Chabad Magazine: Tuesday, Cheshvan 25, 5775 · November 18, 2014
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Editor's Note:
| Dear Friends, There are no words. Frightening images that conjure up memories of a dark past. The image of Jewish men, crowned in tallit and tefillin, lying dead in cold blood. Prayerbooks stained with Jewish blood… To our beloved brothers and sisters, the Goldberg, Kupinsky, Levine and Twersky families: Our entire nation weeps along with you. The terrorists did not kill your loved ones because they knew them. They did it because they wanted to kill Jews. When they stabbed your beloved family members, they stabbed each and every one of us. And we all mourn with you. May their souls be gathered up in the bundle of life, and may they intercede on High for you, and for all of Israel. Let us continue to pray for those who are still fighting for their lives; may G‑d send them a speedy and complete recovery! And to those in the seat of power, I share the question we all ask: How much longer can this go on? Is it not high time to finally ensure true safety and security throughout the Holy Land? With wishes of only good news, Mendy Kaminker on behalf of the Chabad.org Editorial Team P.S. This Sunday we will be streaming live from the International Conference of Chabad Lubavitch Emissaries. Join us for this annual event by tuning in to Jewish.tv at 5:30 p.m. EST on Sunday. P.P.S. We’re proud to announce our upcoming series, “The Significance of Tefillah,” with Rabbi Shmuel Kaplan. If you want to really understand what prayer is all about, be sure to join us as we air the first segment at 7:00 p.m. EST on Tuesday. |
The Engaged Child
Watch the child involved in an activity.
Whatever the child is doing, there is the child,
all the child.
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PARSHAH
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All Jews are well-diggers, even today. Whatever you do for your physical livelihood and your spiritual livelihood, all depends on digging lasting wells...
By Chana Kroll
"And a river flowed forth from Eden to water the garden, and it divided into four streams…and the name of the fourth is Pras." (Genesis 2:10)
The Talmud identifies this fourth river as the original flow of water which came forth from Eden, and gave birth to the other three streams. Ultimately, it is said to be the source of all the world's rivers, as well as the underground water table which is tapped into and revealed whenever a well is dug.
Jews are well-diggers. It's an occupation we inherited from our forefathers. Long before Columbia and Harvard, even before Cordoba and Pumbaditha, we knew how to tap the earth for living, and life-giving, waters.
All Jews are well diggers It's not actually as easy as it sounds. To dig a well you must first have faith that there's water to be found. Then you have to invest yourself in the arduous task of removing layers of stone and earth to reveal the potential trapped within.
And if you want your wells to have a chance at benefiting the world - you have to know how to make them last
Abraham dug wells, but they didn't last. The Philistines stopped them up, covered over the gushing waters with dirt, until Isaac matured and was able to re-open his father's wells. He even dug three of his own, and this time the wells lasted.
So, too, did the lesson they convey - a lesson in how to tap into our own hidden potential. All Jews are well-diggers, even today. Whatever you do for your physical livelihood and your spiritual livelihood, all depends on digging lasting wells.
The spiritual livelihood of Abraham was in publicizing the knowledge of G-d. His life revolved around having guests - feeding them, sheltering them, and telling them that all gratitude should go not to him, their host, but to the One who created everything. Abraham's life and words were a source of direct light beaming down into a world of darkness and illuminating it. As long as he was physically here in this world, all of physical creation responded to that light. But when he passed away, his students no longer followed his teachings precisely. And so, the Philistines were able to stop up his wells.
But Abraham was blessed with a son who would continue and build upon his work. This son had a different, but complementary, Divine service. While Abraham, too, dug wells, it wasn't his primary task. For Isaac, well-digging was his primary physical and spiritual livelihood. His task was not to shine a lot from above to below as was his father’s, but rather to remove all barriers and reveal vitality and light that would flow from below to above.
It isn't something that happens overnight - rather, it’s a process that goes through gradual stages of maturity and depth. These are alluded to in the names given to Isaac's three wells - Eisek, Sitna, and Rechovot.
The name of the first well, Eisek, derives from a root meaning “physical strife.” Isaac named this well Eisek because there his servants argued with the Philistines over ownership of the well. The name of the second well, Sitna, comes from a root meaning “hatred,” because there they also quarreled. The third well, however, he named Rechovot, saying, "Now G-d has made for us wide spaces, and we will be fruitful in the Land."
Only when you engage your intellectual faculties can you reach your deepest spiritual potentials The first two wells are allusions to engaging in life from our lower soul levels only. The first well, Eisek, alludes to one who has activated only his lowest level - the level of action. The second well alludes to one who has also engaged his emotions and psyche. Hence the names of the first two wells refer to physical strife and emotional strife.
When we seek to make a significant change in our lives, or to improve our relationships with others, or with G-d, and we are doing so only on the level of behavior, then we are acting on the level of action. We're stuck at the first well - a place of open conflict. When we also engage our emotions, we're one step closer to real change, but still vulnerable to opposition and negative emotions - from within and without.
So how do we get to a place of wide spaces, of real progress?
To reach the third level requires using the intellect. Only when you engage your faculties of wisdom, knowledge, and understanding can you reach your deepest spiritual potentials, revealing a lasting flow of vitality and Divine light symbolized by a well that was permanent and undisputed.
That's the secret of well-digging bequeathed to us by Isaac. It's a secret that was well-understood by Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, the founder of Chabad Chassidut, when he formulated a path in Divine service based on the intellectual understanding of G-d. To make real changes in your way of living requires changing your way of being, and to do that you need to fill, and fulfill, your intellect through constant learning and contemplation.
And as your intellect changes, you can dig deeper into your heart and make real changes in your emotions and thus actions, making your own life into a source of illumination that transforms the world from within.
That's the well which is called Rechovot - a place of ever-expanding space where our world and our lives are never constricted because we can sense the Infinite hidden within. And that's the point at which you can tap into the fourth river, a source of life-giving water that flows from the primordial Garden of Eden straight into your own soul.
All of which is meant to lead to "we will be fruitful in the Land."
Each one of us has the power, and thus the obligation, to make our own unique imprint on this world, for though the commandment to be fruitful refers to having physical children, it also refers to the creative and intellectual impact that Jews have always had on the world. When it comes from the deepest point within, it's not only how we express ourselves - it's part of serving G-d.
Freely adapted from a lecture of Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh that can be read here.
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| • The Secret to Eliminating the Generation Gap (By Lazer Gurkow) |  A Beautiful Sight | My son’s bar mitzvah a few years ago was an opportunity for a family reunion. On Shabbat afternoon after lunch, my brother-in-law pulled me aside and pointed out a beautiful scene. A large group of teenage girls was sitting and chatting with “Bubbie,” my mother-in-law, Mrs. Layah Block. The easy chatter and happy laughter continued for nearly half an hour. Despite the age difference, there was no generation gap at all. | Recently, my mother-in-law passed away, and our family gathered once again to remember our beloved mother and grandmother. One after another, the grandchildren talked about their easy and comfortable rapport with Bubbie. The fact that Bubbie related easily to their high school woes and teenage delights had always been taken for granted, but in retrospect, it was remarkable. | This got me thinking. What causes the generation gap and what does it take to bridge it? I am fairly certain that my mother-in-law didn’t make a conscious effort to relate to her teenage grandchildren. It came naturally to her. What is the secret to making the generation gap disappear? | Generation Gap | I’d suggest that a major reason for the so-called generation gap is grandparents and grandchildren dismissing each other. | All too often, grandchildren view their old and frail grandparents as irrelevant. They love Granny and visit often, they love Grandpa and can’t get enough of the doting old man, but when it comes down to it, their grandparents are old folks who sit at home and do boring things. | You can tell them that several decades earlier, their grandparents were vital, strapping teenagers just like them. You can tell them that their grandparents still feel young and wonder where the years went. But it will often fall on deaf ears. They will hear it in their heads, but will be hard-pressed to relate. The generation gap is too large. | Then one day they may see a picture of their grandparents in their youth and are startled by their uncanny resemblance to them. Suddenly, the old dotty grandpa is energetic and strong, athletic and adventurous. Suddenly, they see their grandparents in themselves. This is Granny? But it can’t be. She looks exactly like me! Indeed, she does. They come to realize that Granny was once as strong as them, and they will one day be as frail as her. Suddenly it clicks. They get it. What you couldn’t explain with a thousand words can become crystal clear with one picture. The wrinkled, old-fashioned appearance is just a shell. What is on the inside matters most. | Grandparents are often just as guilty. They see their grandchildren running around doing things they cannot do, with interests unheard of in their own youth. They conclude that this is a new generation and assume they cannot relate. “These kids cannot possibly relate to us, their-old fashioned grandparents,” they figure. “We are good for hugs, kisses and lollipops, but beyond that, kids need to be left alone.” | Nothing can be further from the truth. Children have so much to gain from their grandparents, and vice versa. I look at my children, nieces and nephews and see how their relationship with their Bubbie and Zaidy has enriched them. I know they cherish each memory, and I wonder what life might have been like if this were lacking. | Our external pursuits may be different. But underneath, we are all the same. Children seek fun, meaningful encounters, and so do adults. We pursue our objectives differently, but our goals are the same. High-school woes and geriatric woes are both woes. Just because these are not our woes at this time doesn’t make them unimportant or unrelatable. | A second cause of the generation gap is our fixation with the superficial. When my son told his grandmother about his childish scrapes and teenage struggles, she didn’t baby or dismiss him. She looked deeper and saw his pain and determination. She related to his joys and triumphs because underneath they were the same as her own. Just because grandchildren and grandparents go about their goals in different ways does not make them different people. Facebook and iPads don’t define the youth, just like knitting and crocheting don’t define the old. Underneath, we are one. | Abraham and Isaac | In this week’s Torah portion, we are introduced to “Isaac, the son of Abraham.” The Torah then explicitly states that “Abraham begot Isaac.” The commentaries wonder about the redundancy and explain: Isaac was the son of Abraham, and in case anyone suspected differently (since Isaac was born when Abraham was 100), G‑d made it so that Isaac perfectly resembled his father, so everyone would know that Abraham begot Isaac. The father’s genetic material was imprinted on the son.1 | “Isaac the son of Abraham, Abraham begot Isaac.” There was no generation gap between them because its two primary causes were lacking. They did not view one another as strangers who cannot relate to each other, because despite the hundred-year gap between them, Isaac was a perfect likeness of Abraham. They couldn’t dismiss each other as old folk or young kid, because when they looked at each other they saw carbon copies of themselves. | The second cause of the generation gap is the divergent styles of surface pursuits. Here the Torah tells us that Isaac always remained the son of Abraham. No matter that Abraham hosted guests and Isaac dug wells, no matter the difference in their styles, interests and personalities, they were always a unit. Abraham saw Isaac as his son and Isaac saw Abraham as his father. There was no generation gap.2 | FOOTNOTES | 1.Genesis 25: 19. See Rashi ad loc. | 2.See Kli Yakar, Or Hachayim and Ramban ibid. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| • Toldot in a Nutshell Genesis 25:19–28:9 |  Isaac and Rebecca endure twenty childless years, until their prayers are answered and Rebecca conceives. She experiences a difficult pregnancy as the “children struggle inside her”; G‑d tells her that “there are two nations in your womb,” and that the younger will prevail over the elder. | Esau emerges first; Jacob is born clutching Esau’s heel. Esau grows up to be “a cunning hunter, a man of the field”; Jacob is “a wholesome man,” a dweller in the tents of learning. Isaac favors Esau; Rebecca loves Jacob. Returning exhausted and hungry from the hunt one day, Esau sells his birthright (his rights as the firstborn) to Jacob for a pot of red lentil stew. | In Gerar, in the land of the Philistines, Isaac presents Rebecca as his sister, out of fear that he will be killed by someone coveting her beauty. He farms the land, reopens the wells dug by his father Abraham, and digs a series of his own wells: over the first two there is strife with the Philistines, but the waters of the third well are enjoyed in tranquility. | Esau marries two Hittite women. Isaac grows old and blind, and expresses his desire to bless Esau before he dies. While Esau goes off to hunt for his father’s favorite food, Rebecca dresses Jacob in Esau’s clothes, covers his arms and neck with goatskins to simulate the feel of his hairier brother, prepares a similar dish, and sends Jacob to his father. Jacob receives his father’s blessings for “the dew of the heaven and the fat of the land” and mastery over his brother. When Esau returns and the deception is revealed, all Isaac can do for his weeping son is to predict that he will live by his sword, and that when Jacob falters, the younger brother will forfeit his supremacy over the elder. | Jacob leaves home for Charan to flee Esau’s wrath and to find a wife in the family of his mother’s brother, Laban. Esau marries a third wife—Machalath, the daughter of Ishmael. | © Copyright, all rights reserved. If you enjoyed this article, we encourage you to distribute it further, provided that you comply with Chabad.org's copyright policy. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
JEWISH NEWS
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Photos from the scene show bloodied worshippers lying on the floor of the synagogue clad in talis and tefillin.
Chabad.org Staff
JERUSALEM—Five people were killed and at least six others wounded after two Palestinian terrorists armed with guns and axes burst into a synagogue in the Har Nof section of Jerusalem. The terrorists were killed in a gunfight with Israeli police.
There was panic during morning prayers in the Kehilat Bnei Torah synagogue, part of a yeshivah complex on Agassi Street, as the terrorists entered at around 7 a.m., and began shooting and slashing. Photos from the scene show bloodied worshippers lying on the floor of the synagogue clad in tallises and tefillin.
Among the victims was Rabbi Moshe Twersky, 59, Rosh Kolel (head of Yeshivah) at the nearby Yeshivas Toras Moshe. Twersky was the elder son of Rabbi Yitzhak (Isadore) Twersky of Boston—renowned author; the NathanLittauer Professor of Hebrew Literature and Philosophy at Harvard University, who founded the Center for Jewish Studies at Harvard; and a grandson of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Rosh Yeshiva of Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary (RIETS) at Yeshiva University in New York City.
The other victims who were in the synagogue were identified as Rabbi Kalman Levine, 55; Rabbi Avraham Shmuel Goldberg, 68; and Rabbi Aryeh Kupinsky, 43, all of Jerusalem. Their funeral processions departed from Har Nof at 3 p.m.The levaya (funeral procession) for Rabbi Twersky began at 2 p.m. at Yeshivas BeisHaTalmud, proceeding to Har Menuchot.
Rabbi Moshe Twersky, Rabbi Kalman Levine and Rabbi Aryeh Kupinsky had dual U.S. and Israeli citizenship, while Rabbi Avraham Shmuel Goldberg was an Israeli and British citizen, according to police. All four lived on the same street in Har Nof.
Israeli police officer Zidan Sayif, 27, of the Druze village of Yanuch-Jat in the Galilee, was one of the first to arrive at the scene, and was said to have engaged and distracted the attackers from the worshippers. He later died of his wounds at Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem.
Massacre With Knives and Axes
“There were roughly 30 people in the synagogue, and the terrorists attacked then with axes, knives and pistols,” said police spokesman Mickey Rosenfeld.
Those who were inside the synagogue and first responders reported a scene of unimaginable brutality.
“I tried to escape. The man with the knife approached me. There was a chair and table between us ... my prayer shawl got caught. I left it there and escaped,” Yossi, who was praying at the synagogue at the time of the attack told Israel’s Channel 2.
Yosef Posternak, who was inside the synagogue, told Israel Radio: “I saw people lying on the floor, blood everywhere. People were trying to fight with [the attackers], but they didn’t have much of a chance.”
Yehuda Meshi-Zahav, head of the emergency response team Zaka, told Army Radio that “I’ve seen attacks with much higher death tolls, but the scenes this time were worse than any I have seen.”
Meshi-Zahav stated that he objected to the posting of gruesome images of the attack on the Internet, saying that they exacerbated the grief of the victims’ families.
Heightened Security Measures
“Police responded quickly and killed the terrorists in a gun fight that left both officers injured, one critically. We have a forensics team in the synagogue now,” said Rosenberg.
In the hours following the massacre, clashes broke out in the eastern Jerusalem neighborhood of Jabel Mukaber after security forces closed in on the homes of Uday and Ghassan Abu Jamal, the two cousins who carried out the terror attack.
Public Security Minister Yitzhak Aharonovitch instructed synagogues to place security guards at their entrances, and said that requirements for gun licenses were being eased.
Rosenfeld added that heightened security has been implemented throughout the capital.
In addition, four Border Police reserve units have been called up, according to Army Radio.
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• In Brazil’s Largest City, Younger Jewish Set Lends a Charitable Hand - Ten Yad Young Professionals, an initiative blending social and volunteer activities, has attracted quite a following (By Chaya Schley)
Two years ago, Rabbi Berel Weitman—vice director of “Ten Yad,” the influential charity headquartered in São Paulo, Brazil—launched an initiative to get more young adults involved in the organization. Thus was born “Ten Yad Young Professionals,” which sponsors volunteer opportunities and social events for Jewish Paulistanos between the ages of 25 and 40.
Judging by the turnout at a party for Ten Yad Young Professionals earlier this fall—more than 1,000 strong—the response has been overwhelmingly enthusiastic.
“We never expected we could grow so big, so fast,” acknowledges Weitman.
In São Paulo alone—the largest city in Brazil and in the Americas, and the world’s 12th largest city by population—approximately 10 percent of the city’s 80,000 Jews live in poverty.Ten Yad (Hebrew for “lend a hand”) was founded 1992 by Weitman’s father, RabbiDovid Weitman, also founder of ChabadMorumbi and Chief Rabbi of SephardiCongregation Beit Jaacob Safra, along with his wife, Sonia. Its mission is to combat hunger and social inequality in Brazil, a country in which some 20 percent of the population lives below the poverty line, according to the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) World Factbook.
As such, Ten Yad works to distribute 700 tons of food yearly across the country. The organization cares for the needs of the elderly and disabled as well, sending more than 80,000 hot “Meals on Wheels” each year directly to their homes.
An Often Untapped Demographic
A cornerstone of Ten Yad’s activities is the Refeitório Eshel Menachem soup kitchen, where volunteers serve three hot meals daily to more than 2,800 São Paulo residents.
Victor Metta, a Ten Yad Young Professionals committee member, spoke at the event.
Last December, Ten Yad dedicated a new 35,000-square-foot center—donated by the late philanthropist Joseph Safra and named the Esther Safra Center in memory of his mother—that houses the soup kitchen, in addition to a library, day-care center, offices, ophthalmic clinic and other social services. A catering kitchen and elegant event space are welcome additions for hosting weddings, bar mitzvahs and other Jewish life-cycle events, with Ten Yad having a fund to assist withsimchas there for families who otherwise couldn’t afford them.
About 300 volunteers help run Ten Yad’s programming, which takes place 365 days a year. Rabbi Berel Weitman says he was motivated specifically to try to get more young adults involved because he realized it’s a demographic that’s often untapped by Jewish philanthropic groups.
“There are many programs for students in university or for young married couples, but not as much for young people who are neither here nor there,” he says.
Many young adults, in the midst of building careers and leading busy social lives, don’t have extensive time to commit to volunteer work. But, notes Weitman, they often have a strong desire to give back and be a part of charitable organization.
A core group of about 50 young adults volunteer regularly for Ten Yad, but Weitman says Ten Yad Young Professionals also focuses on creating opportunities for socializing and building awareness for Jewish causes. Every other month, they host parties and casual events where participants can meet other young Jews in a similar stage of life.
Weitman hands Isabbela Beker, also a Ten Yad Young Professionals member, a bag of promotional and educational materials.
The young professionals also organize group volunteer efforts, such as packing baskets of food and other necessities to distribute to needy Jewish families before Passover and Rosh Hashanah.
The events average between 150 and 200 participants, and, as a bonus, have proven to be fertile ground for matchmaking. According to Weitman, “we’ve had many couples come out of our events.”
‘Do Something Good’
Ralph Hazzan, a 30-year-old banker, became involved with Ten Yad Young Professionals two years ago. His mother is a longtime Ten Yad volunteer, which motivated him to join the younger contingent.
“I feel it’s very important to be involved in a charitable cause and to have the opportunity to give back to the community,” he says. “I know many young professionals feel similarly. It’s important for them to set aside time from their busy lives to do something good for society.”
Jessica Reitzfeld, a 28-year-old working in advertising, participated in a volunteer event last spring. She helped prepare baskets to distribute to Jewish families before the Passover holiday.
“We made 700 baskets in one hour,” she says of the event. Reitzfeld explains that appreciates that Ten Yad Young Professionals not only provides opportunities to give back, but also to meet new people. “It gives us a chance to be socially active with other young Jews with like-minded interests.”
Volunteers pack bags of Passover food for Brazilian Jews in need.
In September, 1,000-plus people flocked to a celebratory bash for Ten Yad Young Professionals, held at their headquarters in São Paulo. The event featured a cocktail party, and keynote speeches from Rabbi Dovid Weitman and a guest author. The party’s goal was to introduce more young Jewish adults to ways they can become involved with Ten Yad.
The next big event will be a Chanukah party in December, where guests will enjoy food and drinks, and pack holiday baskets for families in need.
“It’s the right moment. People who are starting this new stage in life, starting a new career, also want to help people who are less fortunate,” says Rabbi Berel Weitman.
And he sums up why he thinks the charitable initiative has become a hit among the younger set of Paulistanos: “It’s a beautiful, different way to experience being Jewish.”
Rabbi Dovid Weitman, left, and Rabbi Berel Weitman, vice director of Ten Yad
Ten Yad Young professionals meet to discuss new projects. Says Rabbi Berel Weitman: “People who are starting this new stage in life, starting a new career, also want to help people who are less fortunate.”
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| • With Russian Tanks in Ukraine and Winter Approaching, Jews Try to Subsist (By Dovid Margolin) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
• Upbeat Uptown: Chabad Presence Gets a Boost in Harlem(By Menachem Posner)
When thinking of Jewish neighborhoods in New York, Harlem may not be the first to come to mind. Yet the area is celebrating the opening of its secondChabad center—Chabad of Hamilton Heights—founded this past spring by Rabbi Yehuda and Chani Shmotkin.
Chani Shmotkin, second from left with women at the Upper West Side challahbake.
“The neighborhood is evolving so fast,” says local resident Leslie Dweck. “Great food and new coffee shops popping up are wonderful, but none of it is as special or important as building a nice community uptown where people can connect to each other, to their roots, and deepen their connection to Judaism,” she said describing the Shmotkins’ fledgling Chabad center.
Chabad first took root in Harlem in 2005, when Rabbi Shaya Gansbourg realized that it had a burgeoning Jewish population with almost no Jewish infrastructure. Working together with Rabbi Shlomo Kugel of Chabad of the West Side, Gansbourg and his wife, Goldie, founded what professor Jeffrey S. Gurock, the Libby M. Klaperman Professor of Jewish History atYeshiva University, called “the revival of Judaism in Upper Manhattan.”
Shmotkin, who was raised in Milwaukee, Wis., says he and his wife, who is from Montreal, will be focusing on serving students at the nearby City College of New York, in addition to local residents.After the rabbi passed away in 2013 at the age of 57, his work was taken on by his children, Rabbi Yossel and Mushka Gansbourg. 
Shmotkin at a "lunch-and-learn" with kosher pizza for all at CCNY.
Immediately after the new center was made official just before Passover, the rabbi says he “grabbed some boxes of matzah and began walking the streets of the neighborhood looking for people who needed some for the holiday. Someone asked me, ‘Rabbi, what are you doing here?’ I told him about our efforts in the neighborhood, and he offered to host some events in his home. Thank G‑d, we’ve had some very successful programs there.”
Besides holiday programs—a “Chanukah on Ice” show is in the works—the Shmotkins have been distributing challahs to neighbors and hold a weekly lunch-and-learn that attracts as many as 40 CCNY students.
And as soon as they can find a suitable apartment, the Shmotkins plan to continue to unfold what Dweck describes as “a beautiful mission.”
On campus last month during the holiday of Sukkot.
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• Blind State Supreme Court Justice Provides Hope and Help for the Disabled (By Mordechai Lightstone)
Justice may be blind, but now a justice on the Michigan Supreme Court is as well.
Richard H. Bernstein, 40, knows the meaning of “pay it forward.” Blind from birth, Michigan’s newly elected State Supreme Court justice has built a successful life despite his own disability, while encouraging and assisting others to do the same.
Bernstein was elected to the Supreme Court of Michigan last week for an eight-year term, making the Detroit-based disability-rights attorney—who has a long track record of successful pro-bono litigation—the first legally blind state Supreme Court justice in the nation.
“I was just floored by who he was and what he did,” says Alevsky. “Here was a man—blind from birth—who dedicated his life to advocate for people with special needs. He became a successful lawyer who never charged a dime for his services and never lost a case. He never sued for money, only for positive change. He became a professor of law, a radio-show host and a brilliant public speaker.”Among those who celebrated the victory was Rabbi Chayim Boruch Alevsky, co-director of Family & Youth Programs at Chabad of the West Side in Manhattan. Alevsky first met Bernstein about three years ago while attending one of the lawyer’s talks.
Following that talk, Alevsky invited Bernstein to join him for a Shabbat meal. A few weeks later, the lawyer came—and the two have been friends ever since.
“His warmth and joy are infectious,” insists Alevsky. “He would call me every Monday in the morning, and we’d learn together. He would ask me in different words each time if I was excited about life. ‘Are you maximizing your day, your time, your life?’ ”
A New Obstacle to Overcome
Bernstein is also an endurance athlete, Alevsky learned, having completed 18 marathons, in addition to an Ironman Triathlon in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, in the summer of 2008.
And that, too, presented new challenges to be overcome.
In August 2012, Bernstein was hit by a bicyclist in Central Park, shattering his hip and pelvis. Over the course of a long recovery—he spent 66 days convalescing in a New York hospital—Alevsky visited daily to don tefillin with Bernstein, who used the MySiddur app developed by the rabbi to recite the daily prayers.
Rabbi Chayim Boruch Alevsky blowsshofar for Bernstein while he was recovering in a New York hospital after being hit by a bicyclist in 2012.
In a number of pubic addresses, Bernstein has credited Chabad’s positive attitude to life and Judaism that were demonstrated by Alevsky, as well as the teachings of theRebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—as important factors in his recovery from his bike accident and in his life.
“Chabad is what gave me the strength to get through this,” he told a reporter in 2012.
Just one year after the accident, Bernstein trained for the New York City marathon and pushed legislation to make the park safer for those with disabilities. He also embarked on a “pay it forward” campaign, speaking to communities across the country and abroad about his message of positivity and perseverance.
Now that Bernstein, a Democrat, will be sitting on the Supreme Court, Alevsky has similar high hopes for him.
“Richard dedicates so much to helping people because he truly believes in it. He’s a real mentsch.”
Alevsky, co-director of Family & Youth Programs at Chabad of the West Side in Manhattan, visited Bernstein daily to wrap tefillin, and during Sukkot, to shake the lulav and the etrog.
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YOUR QUESTIONS
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From the outside, you see nausea, cranky moods and a swelling belly. From the inside, you see an entire being miraculously forming—and you still have no idea how that baby’s going to make it out of there. Today, the raw facts show us a world preparing itself for something amazing.
By Tzvi Freeman
Hello Rabbi,
My Chabad rabbi insists that the world is moving rapidly towards an era of peace and wisdom. Of course, he doesn’t watch television and he’s definitely out of the news blogosphere as well. Instead, he quotes theRebbe, who was speaking many years ago. Maybe things were looking up then for a bit. Right now, the future—like the present—doesn’t look so happy.
So what makes you think that the arrival of Moshiach is more likely now than at any other time in history?
—Pessy Mystic
Hello Pessy,
There’s two misconceptions here that are confusing you. Let’s deal with one at a time.
First off, no one ever imagined the world gradually rolling itself into a messianic stage like you roll your car into the garage. But neither does it have to crash into an apocalyptic brick wall. Don’t expect us human beings to resolve all the world’s problems—for every problem we solve, we create a whole slew of new ones. But don’t rely on space aliens or some celestial beings to do it for us either.
Rather, instead of talking about the world evolving into a new era, talk about itpreparing itself for the time when that will happen.
Think of the birth process: From the outside, you see nausea, cranky moods and a swelling belly. From the inside, you see an entire being miraculously forming—and you still have no idea how on earth that baby’s going to make it out of there. That’s a whole other miracle of its own.
Think of the birth process, an orchestra tuning up or a movie set.
Think of an orchestra tuning up in a crescendo of noise and cacophony—until the conductor lifts his baton and the symphony begins.
Or a movie set, with the stage crew running about madly setting everything in place, tearing down and propping up; the camera and lighting crew laying wires everywhere and shining lights in all the wrong places; the actors rehearsing lines out of order, acting out who they are going to be in the most ridiculous ways. But when the director shouts, “Action!” suddenly everything fits together and makes sense in the most magnificent way.
Or, perhaps you’ve been in a Jewish home on a Friday. Dead, naked birds lie on the kitchen counter. Flour has spilled onto the kitchen floor, and the little ones are down there mixing it with orange juice. From upstairs you hear the blood-curdling scream of a teenager, “I have nothing to wear!” And her little brother is screaming even louder because she made his bath too hot. As for the husband, he is running in and out on last-minute errands, relieved that he has an excuse to escape the madness indoors.
Then the doorbell rings. It’s you, the guest, who has politely brought a bottle of wine beforehand, since you can’t carry it there on Shabbos. The lady of the house opens the door, but only a crack—firstly, so that you won’t see the disaster zone inside, and secondly, to prevent the little guy who has escaped the bathtub from running out stark naked into the street.
But the aroma from the kitchen does manage to waft out the door, and you exclaim, “Ah! Shabbos!”
Shabbos?! Shabbos is a day of rest! This place looks like a tornado hit it! And you smell Shabbos?
But you, and the lady of the house, and everyone else involved as well, know the story. Within a few hours, the dead birds will be a tasty chicken soup, the flour a delicious challah, the teenager will find something to wear, the little boy will stand up and tell everybody about the weekly parshah, and the father and mother will sit proudly together over their brood, with you, their guest, imbued with the delight of Shabbos Kodesh.
Those are all parables for the messy, noisy, totally maddening state of our world, especially in its most recent stages of development.
The world, like the human body and like Friday afternoon, is on a clock. From the time it first came into being, it has been steadily moving towards its destiny. The motion is not steady—it rises and falls like the crests of waves. Like the formation of the fetus, there are stages at which new developments occur—developments that would be impossible to predict if you had never watched this before. Especially that last and final step—how on earth that baby is going to get out of the very tight spot it’s gotten itself into. But it will happen—very soon.
If you know what to look for, and you have a wide enough lens, you’ll see those shifts rapidly occurring in recent times—in human attitudes, in technology, in science, and in trends in world events. The world is preparing itself for a shift into a new modality, so that when the music begins, the instruments will be in tune, and we will be attuned to appreciate the concert.
 Where Are We Going?
Let’s get come clarity as to our destiny and how this world is really meant to be.
We talk about the messianic times as a world of peace and a world filled with wisdom. But most important, it is a world unlocked.
A world of peace, a world filled with wisdom—but most important, a world unlocked.
Like the movie set, or the orchestra, this world starts off with its true meaning locked inside. The greatest of the kabbalists, Rabbi Yitzchak Luria, “TheAri,” described our mission as human beings: to release the hidden meaning of each thing. As the bits and pieces of the universe that we touch start to sing their true song out loud, more pieces demand tuning up, and then yet more, until the noise drowns out the symphony.
Theoretically, this could go on forever. The belief in Moshiach is that at a certain point, a conductor will arrive, the noise will be dispelled, and the concert will begin. The world will have arrived.
That’s what the prophet is envisioning when he hears G‑d saying, “I will pour my spirit upon everybody, and your sons and daughters will prophesy.” Hearing the symphony will be the natural state of living organisms.
That’s never happened before—other than a brief few hours at Mount Sinai. Even at the time when the Israel was filled with many thousands of prophets, prophecy remained a special experience. You had to remove yourself from thoughts of this world, meditate daily for many hours, go with little food and speak only that which was necessary, and, eventually, you may have been privileged to tap into the supernal consciousness of the Creator.
Prophecy, basically, was out of this world. Because you got it from out of this world. You saw the world differently as a prophet, because you were no longer its citizen. You were above and beyond it, seeing a light that shone from above into this world.
But that’s not how the world is meant to be. “All that G‑d created,” the sages taught, “He only created for His glory.” It’s a piece of art—but it’s still in the making. It’s a very messy process, this making. But once done, the Master Artist lifts the veil, and voila!—there’s the masterpiece for all to behold. Even little boys and girls, and wolves and lambs, and every other creature of this world.
The messianic era is not about some great revelation from beyond. It’s about the world singing its own song—and being able to hear itself.
 How Are We Getting There?
Now let’s look at how we’re getting there. Or better—as I said—how the world is preparing itself for that time.
Civilizations have risen and fallen in many parts of the world, many times before. But ours, somewhere in the mid-18th century, hit a point that has no precedent in anyone’s history. We call it the Industrial Revolution.
Real GDP from 1-2000CE by world regions. Note that change is hardly noticeable until around 1820.
Before this time, all but the fortunate few lived at bare subsistence levels, most children didn’t make it to six years of age, the average life span was around 30 years, only a minority knew how to read and write, and almost nobody ever moved out of their class in society. Then, the human world changed more drastically in a hundred years than it had changed in all the years preceding. A caveman would have been more at home in an 18th century European village than the villager would have been in a city of industry and technology a century later.
A caveman would have been more at home in an 18th century European village than the villager would have been in a city of industry and technology a century later.
Undoubtedly, your rabbi has told you this, but it’s an amazing fact: The Zoharpredicted the whole thing. On the verse, “In the six-hundredth year of the life ofNoah . . . all wellsprings of the great deep burst open, and the windows of heaven were opened,” the Zohar predicts:
The sixth millennium began in the secular calendar in 1240 CE. The sixth century of the sixth millennium then calculates to the period of 1740–1840. Yes, that’s the century we were just speaking about, when all these changes took off.
But that’s not my point here. My point is the words of the Zohar, that all this was “preparing the world to be elevated in the sixth millennium.” This is when Friday starts preparing for Shabbos. This is when all the props needed for the show are finally being set in place.
What are those props? Well, try to imagine a world of peace and wisdom emerging out of the ignorance and hunger of the masses before industrialization and communications technology. It could only have been by some apocalypse and supernatural magic. Today, we have all the tools to provide for every human being on the planet a life of comfort, along with access to the entire corpus of human knowledge in hi-res video and graphics.
More than that, technology has provided us the tools to discover the underlying oneness of G‑d’s creation. Beforehand, we could only see the world from the outside, and so we beheld only more and yet more fragments. With the aid of modern optics and measurement devices, luminaries such as Maxwell and Einstein were able to decipher the unity of all these forces, even of matter and energy themselves, so that today we speak of the universe acting as a single whole that transcends locality and time. That’s not a revelation from out of this world—that’s the world itself singing the song of its One Creator.
Technology makes that all very real. Our own vast planet has become one global shtetl. Not long ago, a massacre of some village somewhere meant nothing to anyone outside of a fifty mile radius—if they ever heard about it. Today, it shakes the entire planet.
How Are Things Right Now? Welcome to the most peaceful era of history.
And that’s where the second misconception I mentioned comes in: The world is not becoming a more violent, nasty place. Quite the contrary: Welcome to the most peaceful era of history. There are less violent deaths per capita, worldwide, than ever before. It’s we who have become more aware and less tolerant of that violence and nastiness.
For one thing, because it’s in our faces. In the First World War, there were photographs. In the Second World War, there was film—with the real grim news arriving far too late. In Vietnam, there were embedded reporters getting out the video-record the next day. Today, we are all not just recipients of news, but reporters ourselves.
So the horror is much more real—which is another way that the world is preparing itself for an era of peace. For thousands of years, the world glorified war. Writing from the warfront in 1914, one of the “Poets of the Great War,” Captain Julian Grenfell captured the spirit of the times when he wrote:
By the time WWI was over, it was hard to find anyone who felt that way. Grenfell fell in battle, and his fellow poet, Wilfred Owen composed the words engraved on his tombstone: “My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.”
When people glorified war, an era of peace had no window through which to enter. Today’s world, revolted by the ugliness of war, is a world preparing itself to embrace peace.
And when we look at the actual statistics, the casualties of military conflict have decreased in the last seventy years more than in all the years of history preceding. Here are some interactive graphics from Our World In Data, where you can find more information:
Number of annual war battle deaths by world region, 1946-2007 – Max Roser
Or look at it this way: During World War II, death by war was running at 5.5 million a year. During the Cold War (1950–1989) that shrunk to 180,000 a year. In the 1990s, they were down to 100,000 a year. In the current century, we’re down to 55,000 a year—one one-hundredth of WWII. Just from the Cold War until now, that’s a shrinkage of over a third. And that’s without taking into account the quadrupling of world population in the last century. Take into account the growing population since the Korean War until now, and you have this:
Yes, there’s these wildcard barbarians plaguing the Middle East with a penchant for beheadings, and a brutal, prolonged civil war in Syria. History, as I wrote, has it’s ups and downs—but it’s something like walking uphill while playing with a yo-yo. Four years in Syria has produced less than a quarter of the casualties of the four years of the Korean War, when three major world powers were embroiled in conflict. And neither compares to the cataclysms of the First and Second World Wars or the Stalinist and Maoist purges of innocent civilians.
Alongside all this, the World Health Organization reports that over a 20-year period, extreme poverty worldwide decreased by a whopping 50%. Health care worldwide is also increasing: As late as 1970, only around 5 percent of infants were vaccinated against measles, tetanus, whooping cough, diphtheria, and polio. By 2000, it was 85 percent, saving about 3 million lives annually—more, each year, than world peace would have saved in the 20th century.
Try to imagine an age of wisdom arriving in 1500, when, in the most advanced countries, a mere 5% of the adult population could read and write. Today, 80% of the entire world adult population is literate.
Here’s just one instance that, for me at least, brings it all alive: When I was young, India was a write-off—mass starvation, multiple natural disasters, disease and the state of its ecology brought predictions of imminent total collapse. A lot of those problems have yet to give way, but now a third of that country’s 1.2 billion people are holding smartphones in their hands. That’s no small deal. A smartphone means a family that has moved into the middle class, with the whole wide world suddenly opened to them wherever they go.
There’s no doubt that, with all its concomitant problems, technology and global commerce has made the world a far more peaceful, prosperous and healthy place than any educated person could have imagined even 100 years ago. Even 30 years ago.
The Answer In Short
Like I said, for every problem we solve, we create plenty of new ones. And only the most naive idealist could visualize all this neatly bringing us into an era of universal peace and wisdom. But then, history has never been predictable. The Berlin wall fell in a week and the Bolshevik party disappeared overnight. The world rode a maverick bronco through the revolutions of technology, commerce, communications and science of the past 200 years—and especially of the last 30 years.
The fetus is already fully formed in the womb. The props are all in place, the instruments all in tune. Your rabbi just wants you to be one of those fortunate enough to have prepared for the grand show to come, with front row seats and dressed for the occasion. All that’s left is for us to switch our mindsets and start living now in the world as it soon will be. At this point, if we can imagine it, we will be there.
Sources
For more on the progression of history towards the messianic era, read The Last Day of History.
For more neat graphics and surprising facts on the many ways the world is getting better, see
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| • Is it normal to have pre-wedding doubts? (By Chaya Sarah Silberberg) |  Question: | In less than a month I'm going to get married to the most wonderful man G‑d could bless me with. For the past week I have been getting attacked with doubts. Is this normal? | Answer: | First of all, mazel tov! May your wedding take place at an auspicious time, and may you build "a faithful home in Israel, an eternal edifice built on the foundation of Torah and mitzvot." | Pre-wedding jitters are absolutely and totally normal. After all, you're committing yourself, body and soul, to another person. You are becoming vulnerable. And with this person you will establish a home and create a new generation to continue in our traditions and beliefs—awesome and scary thoughts! | So I wouldn't be worried about general jitters. | However, I would be worried if these jitters are based on specific problems or issues. For instance, if you've started noticing that your fiancé has a bad temper. Or he is trying to control every single aspect of the wedding, or your home. Or if nothing ever seems to be good enough for him. Or that he is very bad at handling stress. These are serious matters, and if your jitters are based on issues such as these, then you should speak to your rabbi, parents, or someone close to you who can view them objectively and advise you. | But if you're just succumbing to random nervousness—don't worry (ha ha) you're totally normal! | For more on this topic, see The Wedding Jitters and Will I be the next runaway bride? | I hope that you're studying the laws of Family Purity. A commitment to observe these laws faithfully is one of the best guarantors for a happy and successful marriage… | And don't forget to check out our Wedding and Marriage section, you will find there a wealth of useful information and tips. | Again, Mazel tov and best wishes. | Chaya Sarah Silberberg, | Chabad.org | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
INTERVIEW
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A conversation with Yaakov Rosenthal, Chassidic Jew and leader in teen graphology
By Menachem Posner
They call him Mr. Handwriting Guy. Every week, Yaakov Rosenthal makes his rounds to a number of New York High schools, where he sits with students and analyzes their writing—not the content of their words, but the meaning hidden beneath the way they form their letters, their margins and even the space between words.
Through unlocking the emotions and thoughts behind their handwriting, Yaakov helps the teens get in touch with themselves, their feelings and their environment. Of the 250 teens Yaakov sees every year, some come for a one-time analysis and some stay with him for years, as he helps them chart their course to adulthood.
After hearing about his work from a friend and reading his new book, Unlock: The Secret World of Teenagers, I decided to give him a call.
"I offer teens a safe environment where they can be understood and not judged."
MP: Before we talk about graphology, please tell me a bit about yourself. Today, you’re a chassidic Jew living in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, but you weren’t always this way. Can you share a bit about your life’s journey, and how you got to where you are today?
Yaakov: I was born in 1950 in Albany, NY. My great-grandparents had come to the US in the 1870s and 1880s. By the time I was born, we had very little Judaism in our lives. I knew nothing about it, and whatever I did pick up made no sense to me.
I went to college at Hofstra University in Long Island and got a degree in psychology. Judaism meant so little to me that I even became a Quaker for a time. By the time I graduated in 1971, I had saved quite a bit of money from working between semesters and decided that I was ready to retire.
I started hitchhiking all across North America with nothing more than a backpack. I learned a lot about life in my travels and had some amazing experiences. Whenever I needed some more cash, I would work a bit and then continue on my way.
At one point, I got a ride from just outside Salt Lake City, Utah, to Wendover, Nevada. For the entire 80 miles of the trip, the driver spoke to me about Jesus. I was a good hitchhiker and knew to keep my mouth shut. Finally, just before he was going to drop me off, he asked what my religion was. I replied that I was Jewish. I was afraid that he would ask me more information about Judaism, because I really didn’t know much myself. All I knew were the blessings over bread and wine and nothing else. Fortunately, he didn’t say another word.
I got out of his car in a daze and got another ride with some people heading to Yosemite. I didn’t know it at that time, but it was actually Yom Kippur.
Yaakov's new book shares many practical tips and insights for anyone wishing to improve their relationship with teens.
At Yosemite, I met a backpacker like me. We spent eight days in the woods. I would later connect the dots and discover that it had been the holiday of Sukkot.
Anyway, my new friend invited me to come to his house in Marin County, CA. While there, I read a book on Judaism that opened my eyes. For the first time in my life, I viewed Judaism as something worth exploring. This was October of 1971.
By 1974, I was studying in Penn State in State College, PA and occasionally attending Hillel. One winter Shabbat, a group of six young people from Crown Heights came to celebrate Shabbat with us. On Friday night, one of them spoke about how we spend six days a week creating, and then the seventh day is for us to remember that we ourselves are creations. That resonated with me.
They came again the next winter as well. Within a few weeks, my friends and I started celebrating Shabbat together each week. We would all pitch in to make the food and then celebrate together.
That spring, we went to spend Shavuot in Crown Heights. It was a mind-blowing experience. I met friends there who are still friends today.
From Brooklyn, I went to meet a friend and backpack in the Adirondacks. There, I saw some people taking advantage of the woods, chopping down green wood and dirtying the streams. Here I was carrying raw ingredients and making sure to leave nothing behind, and they were just destroying the forest. It was disenchanting. Suddenly, the timeless ideals of Judaism seemed much more appealing.
I hitchhiked over to Camp Shaloh, a yeshivah program in the Catskills, and asked to stay for a week. I was probably pretty disheveled-looking at that point, but they let me stay. When the summer ended, I went to Crown Heights and began studying in earnest at Hadar HaTorah, a yeshivah for men who were discovering Judaism as adults.
In 1978, I met my wife, Tzivia Chaya, and we started a family. That summer, I got my first job as a computer programming analyst, something I continued to do for a long time. Thank G‑d, our family grew, and we now have five children and nine grandchildren, and that’s pretty much my story in a nutshell.
Yaakov and Tzivia Chaya Rosenthal are proud of their five children and nine grandchildren.
MP: Considering your training in psychology and experience as a programmer, how did you end up in the field of graphology and become a leading teen graphologist?
Yaakov: I first learned about the field of graphology from a fellow programmer who was dabbling in it. I took a forty-week course with the great Felix Klein, known as “the dean of American graphology,” who subsequently certified me as a graphologist in 1988. I toured many Chabad houses and community centers and gave presentations about what I did, and I would read people’s writing.
When my son was learning at the Chabad yeshivah in Monsey, I gave a talk for the boys about graphology. The administration was impressed with what I did, and I was asked to do the same in other schools. One thing led to another, and I was soon coming for weekly sessions with the students in a number of schools in Brooklyn.
Over the course of time, I’ve learned many things from the teens I work with, and this became the basis of my book.
"I toured many Chabad houses and community centers and gave presentations about what I did, and I would read people’s writing."
MP: When you look at a teen’s writing, you can tell a lot about him or her. What advantage does that give you over a teacher or principal who also knows a lot, if not more, about the same student?
Yaakov: There are a number of factors here. True, there are the obvious observations, but there are also issues that a person may not be conscious of.
Trust is developed through compassion and competence. Within 5 to 10 minutes, I’ve usually accomplished that. So when I see something showing up in their handwriting, I am able to help them discover themselves and give them tools to deal with their issue.
Also, I believe that teens often need someone to understand them, not to fix them. I offer them a safe environment where they can be understood and not judged.
Most importantly, people—especially teens—are afraid to open up. When I look at their handwriting and tell them what I see, they are already opened up since I just told them their secrets. Obviously, I do this very carefully with a great deal of compassion. But once they trust me and they see that I already know about the issue at hand, they feel they may as well spill the beans. This helps them talk about issues at home, bullying, addiction or whatever else shows up.
"One thing led to another, and I was soon coming for weekly sessions with the students in a number of schools."
MP: What are some of the most common signs you look for in teen handwriting?
Yaakov: There are generally twenty separate indicators we look for—as well as hundreds of other little clues—when analyzing handwriting. In my book, Unlock: The Secret World of Teenagers, I discuss six basic indicators that are relevant to reading teens’ writing. Now, I need to point out that no factor can be viewed in isolation. Rather, when I see a number of clues pointing in one direction, I am pretty confident that I’m onto something. Also, learning these six factors will not make you a graphologist. It will just give you some powerful tools to use when trying to understand a teen.
The first thing I bring up in my book is the margins. Margins are the blank areas above and on both sides of your writing. Where you start writing on the page tells me something. Where you end your writing tells me something else. Together, it reveals a lot about you.
The next factor is how you form your lines when writing on unlined paper. Teens’ writing often resembles a roller coaster. They are looking for who they are, and it shows up in their writing.
The book also shows you how to look at how close the words are, how the writer chooses to cross out rejected words and phrases, and how the writer forms the lower part of letters that dip below the line.
The sixth factor I discuss is how the writer forms the word “I.” English is unique in that the personal pronoun is one letter. There are three basic ways of writing the capital “I”: there is the “box I” with a top and a bottom, there is the “independent I” with just a line, and then there is the “palmer I.” The independent I can indicate that the child went to school out of town at a young age and developed a healthy sense of independence. Or it could be that he has a problem with his parents and is very angry at them.
Other indicators in the handwriting also help reveal the person’s personality.
There are three basic ways of writing the capital “I.”
MP: Can you tell me about some of the things you’ve discovered?
Yaakov: Obviously, I need to modify some details to protect privacy, but here are some recent examples:
There was a 22-year-old woman who came to me, and I was able to tell that she had experienced a trauma at age 11 or 12. The problem was that she honestly could not think of anything that had happened to her during that period of time. Nine years later, in therapy, she realized that something had happened to her family. The event had nothing to do with her, but it stayed with her from when she was 13. The trauma of the incident had affected her more deeply than she had thought. Through removing herself from the incident and viewing it without emotion, she was able to let go of the trauma, and I was able to see that gradual change in her handwriting as she healed.
And then there are the less dramatic examples that are also important. I once met a young man who was very bright, and I could tell from his writing that he looked down on people who were not as intelligent. Obviously, if I would just tell him that, he’d shut off. I started out by telling him how I could see that he was really smart, how much he loved learning and how motivated he was. Once we established that I was not out to criticize him and that I saw him accurately, I was able to tell him that he had a huge blind spot for people not quite like him, and he accepted it.
Giving insight into handwriting on TV.
MP: Are there limits to what you do in your field?
Yaakov: I can be an insightful friend and a guide, but I am not a mental health professional and not a parent. There’s a boy who I’ve been seeing for six years. He comes from an abusive home. More than anything, he just wants to be loved, and he looks for that love in all the wrong places. I can talk to him and help him understand why it’s a bad idea to strike up relationships with girls over the Internet, but at the end of the day, I cannot fill the gap that his family tore into his soul.
MP: As the world goes digital, have you seen a major change in graphology? Do you think the field will survive?
Yaakov: In the 1950s they predicted that the typewriter would mean the demise of graphology. But it didn’t happen. We still write quite a bit—especially children and teens, who are still in school.
That said, there are individuals who write so rarely that their handwriting is not an accurate portrayal of themselves. I knew a guy who had worked for the New York Times for many years. He had been typing for decades and doing very little writing, and his handwriting atrophied; it just didn’t represent him. As of now, most people are still writing, but time will tell what’ll happen in the long run.
MP: Yaakov, this has been very educational. Thanks so much for sharing. Do you have any final thoughts for our readers?
Yaakov: One of the tools I give the teens is the ability to view the events in their lives as being part of G‑d’s plan, hashgachah pratit. The Baal Shem Tov taught that everything we experience can teach us a lesson. Through looking at challenges as learning opportunities, they are able to shake themselves loose from whatever trauma may be gripping them and grow into stronger, healthier and wiser young adults.
Learn more and order books by visiting Yaakov’s website or emailing him.
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VIDEO
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A secret for Jewish continuity contained within the wording of the Shema prayer.
By Dov Greenberg
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WOMEN
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It was the perfect activity for one of those dreary Sundayafternoons in the summer: a visit to my father's grave.
By Lieba Rudolph
It was the perfect activity for one of those dreary Sunday afternoons in the summer: a visit to my father's grave. I'm not much of a cemetery-goer. It's one of my "shoulds." The fact that he's buried in a cemetery 40 minutes away makes it even harder. Getting there involves many winding roads, which means that I always arrive feeling nauseous.
My father had passed away about a year and a half prior, and I had some new faces to show him. My daughter Leah, who was visiting from Dallas, was bringing her baby daughter Aida. But it was my daughter Mushkie who would be bringing the guest of honor: her son Avraham Gershon (“Avremi”) was the first great-grandchild to be named after my father.
I'm not much of a cemetery-goer
I called my mother to see if she was up for the trip. She has always been a cemetery-goer for as long as I can remember—Mother's Day, Father's Day, birthdays. But she doesn't see well nowadays, and it's hard for her to get in and out of the car. Still, she said she wanted to go.
It's not simple to coordinate a group of people between the ages of four months and nearly ninety, but with Leah's daughters between naps and Avremi just waking up, we were on our way.
Almost.
As I came down the stairs to announce that everyone should get in the car, it hit me: Avremi is a kohen, which means that he can't go to a cemetery. (Of course, he can't really go anywhere, because he's only four months old.)
And so, his father Nisson, who made him a kohen (because it's one of those things you inherit from your father), did some quick calling around to his brothers to see what was permissible. He found out that, for the purposes of this cemetery visit, Avremi could stay in the car, either with the doors closed or at least six feet away from any of the graves.
Easy enough.
Getting there was a trip down memory lane for my mother. Despite her poor eyesight, she knew exactly when we were passing the different elementary schools where she had worked as a speech therapist when she was fresh out of college, over 60 years ago.
We made a wrong turn as soon as we entered Beth Shalom cemetery. The upside of this was the extra time it gave us for black-humored jokes as we tried to find my father's plot. ("Do you see anybody living who can help us?" my mother chuckled.)
We weren't in a rush—this was the main activity of the day—but all that time looking sideways was making me queasier. There was a lot of stimulation, too. With so many names I recognized, it was a trip down memory lane for me as well. For starters, my grandparents were buried right across the road from my husband Zev's grandparents, years before we had even been on our first date.
Finally, just as my queasiness was overtaking me, we spotted my father’s grave.
Leah stopped her minivan, assuring everyone that we were six feet away from any graves. Avremi was fine where he was.
"Why can't you take him out?" my mother asked, as Mushkie and I wiggled out from our seats in the back.
"Because he's a kohen," I told her. "A boy is a kohen if his father is a kohen, and Nisson is a kohen."
"What's a kohen?" she asked.
Once upon a time, Jewish people didn't roll their eyes at suprarational ideas
"It means a priest, a male who descends from Aaron, the first High Priest. The priests used to serve in the Temple in Jerusalem, and they’re not allowed to become impure by coming too close to dead bodies. Purity and impurity are spiritual concepts," I answered as I jumped out, eager for fresh air.
"That's a new one," my mother said, but she wasn’t being critical.
It sounded good to me. Once upon a time, Jewish people didn't roll their eyes at suprarational ideas. Our spiritual sensitivity will return when the Third Temple is rebuilt.
As I stood at my father's grave with Mushkie, Leah and Leah's daughter Mushka, we said the chapter of Psalms corresponding to the age my father would be now. I never take for granted that my children and I have reclaimed the ability to communicate with G‑d in His favorite language. I know that my father appreciates that now too.
I'm sure he also appreciates Avremi, even if he didn't get out of the car.
Some things we don't completely understand. At least, not yet.
And for now, that's what "shoulds" are all about.
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| • G-d is My Pilot (By Shaina Blau) |  She was having a bad Monday morning. I saw it all over her face as I made my way through the crush of people exiting the train station. | “Today is just not my day,” I heard her say to no one in particular, and she went on to complain about the several mishaps that had already managed to ruin her day before 8 a.m. It sounded like quite a maddening morning, and I felt sorry for her. | She was having a bad Monday morning | “Give your day a chance, there’s still quite a lot of it ahead!” I heard myself say. I’m not sure if I was that annoying stranger who offers unsolicited advice, or perhaps I was the bearer of a message she needed to hear. I laughed at myself for my uncharacteristic gall, and she smiled as we parted ways. | I don’t usually join into strangers’ conversations on my way to work. But something tugged at me, the memory of a significant experience just a few weeks before . . . | It was the busiest time of the week at Camp Gan Israel of Edmonton, the last few minutes of camp on a Friday. True to the nature of my job as an assistant director, I was being pulled in five directions all at once. As I rushed by the supply room, a staff member called out to me, “Your phone rang a couple times, Shaina. Someone is trying to reach you.” It couldn’t have been my Canadian phone; I had that phone hanging from my neck, the signature assistant director look. | An alarm went off in my head. I immediately went to check who might have been calling my American phone. Two missed calls from my brother and sister, and a voicemail message waiting for me . . . a message I didn’t want to listen to. I stood there frozen in time. A time when I knew that my grandfather was still alive, living his last few moments in this world. If I'd listen to the message, the world would forever change. | But I couldn't stand there forever. I closed my eyes as I listened to the gentle voice of my brother, bearing the sensitive news of my grandfather’s passing. My dear grandfather, whose kind voice I could still hear in my mind. | The shock hit me all at once. There was going to be a funeral and a shivah. My family would all gather together to support my grandmother . . . my grandmother! Again, a rush of emotions as I thought about my grandparents and the many years they'd shared together. | I dialed my brother’s number to hear the news straight from him. He told me the funeral would be early Sunday morning and that my mother was hoping we'd all make it into town. With the help of a kind travel agent and some other G‑d-sent messengers, an hour later I had a ticket for flight AC 1174 on motzoei Shabbat (the evening after Shabbat). | I had a tight connection to catch in Toronto that worried me; I certainly couldn't afford to miss it and have to catch the next outgoing flight to New York—I was just making it in time to the funeral as it was. As soon as I got on the plane, I told a stewardess that I was on my way to a funeral, and she assured me that I would be able to move up to business class for the last 20 minutes of the flight, which would ensure that I would be among the first passengers to disembark. | I whispered Tefilat Haderech, the prayer for travelers, as the plane took off, and said my Shema prayers as I prepared to go to sleep. My ability to sleep practically anywhere served me well; I slept soundly for almost the entire flight and awakened to hear the stewardess inviting me to business class for landing. Gratefully, I settled into my front-row seat right next to hers. I could hear the stewardess' jolly conversations behind the curtain as I dozed off into a light slumber. | Through the fog of sleep, I thought I heard the pilot announcing that we would be preparing for an emergency landing. I opened my eyes to see my kind stewardess nervously holding the mic, announcing that we were to put every belonging in the overhead compartment, practice the bracing position, and remove any sharp objects, so as not to harm the slides in case we would indeed be making an emergency exit. "Passengers are instructed to leave their belongings behind them . . ." | Leave my belongings behind? I needed my passport with me to catch my connecting flight! I called over my kind stewardess and asked her when we'd be able to get our belongings back. | "If we make an emergency landing, my dear, your life is more important than your belongings," she said as calmly as she could, but even I could detect that, behind her pasted smile, she was very nervous. This was clearly an emergency. It was no longer about making my connecting flight; it was about making it off the plane safely. | I whispered the few Psalms I knew by heart over and over again. I had a lot of questions, and I wasn't too shy to use my seat up front to my advantage. The patient stewardess explained to me, "I think we will be just fine. Our pilot is well trained for such situations. We will be okay. I trust him." She was saying all the lines she was supposed to, only I wasn't sure who she was trying to convince more—me or herself. | I listened closely to the announcements: "We've got a fairly significant flight control problem right now.” “We've lost most of our flaps, and we've lost our autopilot." | I closed my eyes and thought about our Pilot | I closed my eyes and thought about our Pilot, the One who steers the direction of every moment of life, the One who chooses who will live and who will die. G‑d never loses controls over His “aircraft” and is the master behind every occurrence of every day. Surely, I can trust Him. I whispered some more Psalms. | I looked around me to see the stewardess answering the calls and transmitting the messages to the rest of the crew. Things appeared to be calming down, but until we would touch the ground, no one knew if we'd need to make an emergency exit. Then the airplane hit the ground abruptly, and the passengers broke out into a loud applause. We had made a safe landing! | Despite the delay, I still had time to make it to my next flight. I thanked my kind stewardess with fewer words then I would have liked as I rushed out into the airport. I knew I really had to thank my Pilot, the One who sends me safe landings every day, the One who sent me a strong message today on how to appreciate every moment of life. | Every miracle, every day. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
ESSAY
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Must we move to heaven to experience infinite ethereality? I think not.
By Sara Hecht
I remember when I first realized how little a person can really control. I remember sensing the world crumbling like my childhood sandcastle in coastal winds, while I quickly added more sand and water as if I could somehow salvage what could have been.
Of course, my human patchwork efforts couldn't hold up a universe, and all too soon I watched it get torn down in a fury, threatening to tear me down along with it. With one hand on the earth, because it was all I could grasp, and the other hand clutching a book on faith close to my chest—as if I could grasp faith with my fingers—I watched You take over.
I quickly added more sand and water
It wasn't pretty, but tug-of-war never is. I wasn't ready to let go easily, nor was I willing to go quietly. You were kind; You let me make some noise—enough noise to make me think I had a say, but not enough to deafen what I needed to learn.
Sometimes I find myself still holding on, like a fool—as if I can run life from this tiny space that my five-foot-two-inch frame takes up on the globe. When I do, I remind myself to let go—if not all at once, then at least bit by bit. Reluctantly, I uncurl my fingers that are gripping tightly to the edge of the planet, I release my jaw that thinks it plays some role in my diaphragmatic breathing, and I let You in. Not because I've lost a battle, but because this was never a battle to begin with.
Some sixty-two miles above sea level, the air becomes so thin that no vehicle with wings can fly beyond it. This altitude in the thermosphere—named “the Kármán line” after Jewish aerospace engineer Theodore von Kármán—is where aeronautics ends and astronautics begins, demanding orbital velocity to maintain stable flight.
To me, this theoretical edge of space, where air is virtually nonexistent and thus wings rendered useless, represents those moments in life when we can no longer depend on our atmosphere to keep us airborne. Those turning points in our quest for elevation when we must relinquish everything we know about navigating life, and surrender to a force much greater than our own if we seek to be propelled beyond the boundary of an earthly existence.
It takes the mind-boggling speed of seventeen thousand miles per hour to safely orbit the earth just beyond the Kármán line. It takes yielding to the power of that rocket, trusting that what happens after launch has less to do with us and more to do with a process outside of our control.
Personally, I’d rather orbit our earth with my feet on solid ground. But there’s one thing that happens in spaceflight that you just can’t experience if you prefer to stay safely grounded: constant weightlessness.
Of course, weightlessness isn’t about being in a gravity-free environment; after all, the pull of gravity at the Kármán line is only three percent less than at the surface of our planet. Rather, the astronaut’s experience of feeling weightless is due to his synchronized acceleration with his orbiting ship. Thus, buoyed by a perfect balance of inertia and gravity, he begins to live the wonder of freefall.
The Midrash tells us, “Ashrei adam she’HaMakom hodeh l’dvarav—Fortunate is the person with whose word the Holy One concurs.”1
If I am to be fortunate enough for G‑d and me to concur—to travel this life at the same speed—I really ought to determine His pace. Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov taught that G‑d is recreating our universe every nanosecond—constant, ever-present activity. Perhaps moving in tandem with G‑d means that I am neither to rush forward nor slow down, but rather to simply be acutely present in every breathing moment. Perhaps, G‑d moves at no pace—perhaps, instead, G‑d is the place.
The above Midrash calls G‑d HaMakom, literally, "The Place"—why? Said Rabbi Jose ben Chalafta: “We do not know whether G‑d is the place of His world or whether His world is His place. But when the verse states, ‘Behold, there is a place with Me,’2 it follows that G‑d is the place of His world, but His world is not His place.”3
What a shame to live thinking that G‑d is in this place when He is the very place itself! TheMust we move to heaven to experience infinite ethereality? difference is grave, you see, for if the world is His place, we’re bound to feel weighted. Although gravity is at play on every layer of the earth’s atmosphere, living on the surface is where the stationary ground stops us from moving further, where the air resistance reminds us how heavily we’re at the mercy of atmospheric drag. Indeed, it is the earthiness of life that prevents us from freefalling with G‑d.
So what is life like if G‑d Himself is The Place? Must we move to heaven to experience infinite ethereality? I think not. Perhaps we simply need to learn how to live beyond the Kármán line—at that breathtaking edge, where worldliness meets Divinity.
At the Kármán line, where oxygen is gone and our wings fail, we are challenged to give up everything we know in order to remain in meaningful flight. At that untouchable boundary dividing earth’s atmosphere from outer space, we enter HaMakom, The Place—a relationship with a G‑d who is connected to the mundane, aware of our struggles, understanding of our dichotomous lives, yet who asks us not to succumb to the grind of this world, not to plummet to the earth, but to keep up with an orbital speed so magnificent that we can continue flying where even air is nonexistent. It’s where we interact with the earthly but never conflict with it, because we are traveling in precise calibration with our Creator.
Perhaps the author of our Midrash is offering humankind a perspective which thrusts as far and deep as earth’s thermosphere, drawing on the etymology of the Hebrew words as follows: “Ashrei adam,” Man is happy; “she’HaMakom,” because when he connects to G‑d as The Place, when he recognizes how to journey with the Divine in the now; “hodeh l’dvarav,” he has the capacity to be grateful for all that he has.
If we’re willing to unabashedly align ourselves with G‑d, if we’re brave enough to be utterly vulnerable to The Place, then, like the surrendered ship in spaceflight beyond the Kármán line, we will find that we are in fact not colliding with our earth but rather perfectly matching its curve, covering more horizontal distance than ever as we joyfully freefall, and traveling an orbit whose bends are gentler than any turn on a man-made roadway.
What a relief to not be in control, what a joy, this sense of surrender! What a comfort to know that we don't have to travel out of our galaxy to feel G‑d, that we don't have to look up or down, that if we let go, we won't go. How refreshing to travel weightlessly, where the debris of terrestrial life is forever pulled into a current that takes it precisely where it needs to go.
Some things will always remain just beyond our reach
And those moments when we fall out of orbit—because we will—are there to remind us that we aren't gods. That no matter how tightly we close our fists, we'll still never take over the reins of our lives. That even if we’re finally standing in The Place, we will not have arrived. Because The Place is dynamic, constantly renewing faster than light speed, forever demanding that we refashion our faith yet again, reminding us, at the edge of every turn, that there is nowhere to arrive—nowhere to arrive, but everywhere to be. That some things will always remain just beyond our reach—perhaps even just a hairsbreadth beyond, only so that we never stop moving in search of it.
I used to think that life throws you back, and when it does, hanging tight to your wings is all you can do to get through the ride. Now I know that life throws you up. Up, up, far beyond the Kármán line. For a moment, in the thrust, you lose your breath. But it’s a kind of breathlessness your lungs have been craving for years. And just as soon as you exhale into the freefall, you discover that you aren't falling at all, but rather that you're in a perfect orbit, propelled by the wondrous balance of HaMakom, The Place. So relinquish the weight of your wings, because up here, the less you have, the further you travel.
FOOTNOTES
1.Sifrei, Pinchas 18.
2.Exodus 33:21.
3.Midrash Rabbah.
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| • Judaism and Capitalism (By Menachem Feldman) |  At its core, Judaism is about unity: the unity of the one G‑d, the universe and the unity of all people created in the image of G‑d. And yet, Judaism also gives the ordinary man an irrevocable right to his own property—as we see in the Torah’s division of the Land of Israel to tribes and families, as well as in the command to celebrate the Jubilee year (where all property is returned to its original owners every 50 years). The idea of land ownership by definition creates separation and division within society, contradicting the ideal of unity. How is it possible for us to live with these opposing ideals in our philosophy and practice? | On the last day of his life, Moses is well aware of this seeming contradiction between the individual’s right to personal property and the notion of unity. His people are about to transition from life in the desert, where there is no ownership of land, to an agrarian life in Israel, where for the first time, they are to become landowners. Moses knows he has one final opportunity to teach his people how to balance these opposing ideals. That is why, on the last day of life, he commands his beloved nation: | At the end of [every] seven years, at an appointed time, in the Festival of Sukkot . . . when all Israel comes to appear before the Lord, your God, in the place He will choose, you shall read this Torah before all Israel, in their ears. | Assemble the people: the men, the women, and the children, and your stranger in your cities, in order that they hear, and in order that they learn and fear the Lord, your God, and they will observe to do all the words of this Torah. | And their children, who did not know, will hear and learn to fear the Lord, your God, all the days that you live on the land, to which you are crossing the Jordan, to possess.1 | In these verses Moses is describing a way to instill the fundamental message of unity into the hearts and minds of a people who will spend most of their time, energy and effort working their land. This is done through two commandments: Shemittah, the sabbatical year during which we are forbidden to work the land for an entire year, and Hakhel, the gathering in the Temple after the sabbatical year, when the people are headed back to work for the next six years. | During the Shemittah year, the seventh year, every land owner takes a year-long break from working the land, devoting his time to spiritual pursuits. During that year, all produce that grows in the field is legally ownerless, and anyone is free to enter any orchard or field to enjoy its produce. This mitzvah serves as a powerful reminder to the people that there is more to life than amassing wealth, that their true essence is the soul not the body, and they have to devote time to feeding the soul, just as they devote time to feeding the body. | And then, at the end of the long sabbatical, just as everyone is anxious to get back to working the land, comes the mitzvah for all the nation to gather in the Temple to hear the words of the Torah. Moses is telling the people that if they want to be able to juggle the blessings of private property and the unified existence that is the core truth of Judaism, then before they get back to the field, they have to reenact the giving of the Torah at Sinai. They have to gather together—men, women and children—as at Sinai, when all the children of Israel stood around the mountain "as one person with one heart," united around the words and teachings of the Torah. Moses understood that the children, the future generations, also need to experience this powerful feeling of unity which comes through the unifying teachings of the Torah, rather than through material blessings, which can sometimes cause division. | Through these commandments, the people learned that although they may each possess property and material wealth, they are not defined, and should therefore not define themselves, by their material possessions and achievements. Moses was telling each individual: “Although your house may be nicer than your neighbor's, you are still one. You are one, because your soul, the core of who you are, is one with your neighbor’s soul. The material possessions that divide you are nothing more than an external garment. They are not who you are, and therefore cannot separate you from your friend.” | And then there is us. | We, whose bodies did not stand at Sinai, who did not stand shoulder to shoulder with the entire nation of Israel at the reading of the Torah in the Temple, we too must meditate on this message each year, when the story of Moshe's last day on this earth is read in the Torah. We must close our eyes and imagine standing with all our brothers and sisters at the foot of Sinai, listening to the words of G‑d and taking the message of Sinai to heart. | If, with all our differences, we can define ourselves as souls sent to this world for a spiritual purpose; if the society we create values the individual for his or her spiritual essence, then we can have a unified society. Our homes, fields, cars and retirement accounts may look different, but we know that we are one, "like one person with one heart." | FOOTNOTES | 1.Deuteronomy 31:10-13. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
STORY
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The young prodigy overheard the exchange between the rabbi and the wagon driver. He could scarcely believe his ears. A pound of candles to atone for violating the holy Shabbat?
By Rabbi Shlomo Yosef Zevin
In his youth, the famed Maggid of Zlotchov, Rabbi Yechiel Michel, lived in a certain town, where he would sit all day in the local Beit Midrash (study hall and synagogue) and pursue his studies.
In that town there lived a simple Jew who earned his livelihood by transporting travelers and merchandise in his wagon. One day, the wagon driver came to the local rabbi in a state of great distress. "Help me, Rebbe!" he wept. "I have committed a terrible sin. I have desecrated the holy Shabbat. How can I atone for my transgression?"
"How did this come to pass?" asked the Rabbi.
"Last Friday," the man explained, "I was returning from the marketplace with a wagonload of merchandise when I lost my way in the forest. By the time I found my way to the outskirts of the city, the sun had already set. So preoccupied was I with my worry over the merchandise, that I failed to realize that the Shabbat had arrived until it was too late..."
Seeing how broken-hearted the man was, the rabbi comforted him and said: "My son, the gates of repentance are never closed. Donate a pound of candles to the synagogue and your transgression will be forgiven."
The young prodigy, Rabbi Michel, overheard this exchange, and was displeased by the rabbi's approach. "A pound of candles to atone for violating the Shabbat?" he thought to himself. "The Shabbat is one of the most important mitzvot of the Torah. Why is the rabbi treating the matter so lightly?"
That Friday afternoon, the wagon driver brought the candles to the synagogue. As Rabbi Michel watched disapprovingly from his table against the back wall, he placed them on the lectern for the synagogue beadle to light in honor of the Shabbat. But this was not to be. Before the beadle arrived, a stray dog carried off the candles and ate them.
The distraught penitent ran to report the incident to the rabbi. "Woe is me!" he wept. "My repentance has been rejected in Heaven! What shall I do?!"
"You're making too much of the matter," the rabbi reassured him. "These things happen -- there's no reason to deduce that G-d is rejecting your repentance. Bring another pound of candles to the synagogue next week, and everything will be alright.".
But when the beadle lit the candles on the following Friday afternoon, they inexplicably melted down, so that by the time Shabbat commenced, nothing was left of them. And upon his third attempt on the week after that, a strong wind suddenly blow out the candles just when Shabbat began and it was not possible to relight them.
The rabbi, too, realized, that something was amiss, and advised the wagon driver to seek the counsel of the great Chassidic master, Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov.
"Hmm..." said the Baal Shem Tov, upon hearing the man's story. "It seems that a certain young scholar in your town finds fault with the path to repentance that the rabbi has prescribed for you. Never mind. Next week, donate another pound of candles to the synagogue. This time, I promise you that everything will be alright. And tell Rabbi Michel that I would be honored if he could trouble himself to come visit me."
Rabbi Michel wasted no time in abiding by the Baal Shem Tov's request. But no sooner had he and his coachman set out that all sorts of troubles beset their journey. First, the wagon tumbled into a ditch. Then, an axle broke many miles from the nearest town. After which they lost their way altogether. When they finally found the road to Mezhibuzh it was late Friday afternoon and the sun was about to set. They were forced to abandon the wagon and continue on foot.
Rabbi Michel arrived at the Baal Shem Tov's door an hour into Shabbat, weary and traumatized by his near-violation of the holy day. "Good Shabbat, Reb Michel," Rabbi Israel greeted him, "come in and warm yourself by the fire. You, Reb Michel, have never tasted sin, so you did not comprehend the remorse a Jew feels at having transgressed the will of his Father in Heaven. I trust that you now understand something of the agony that our friend experienced. Believe me, his remorse alone more than atoned for his unwitting transgression..."
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LIFESTYLE
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Sufganiyot—jelly doughnuts—are synonymous with Chanukah. Try filling them with this easy, homemade cranberry jam for a seasonal twist.
By Miriam Szokovski
Sufganiyot—jelly doughnuts—are synonymous with Chanukah. Try filling them with this easy, homemade cranberry jam for a seasonal twist.
Don’t let the jelly doughnut intimidate you! I’ve broken down the process step-by-step to help you along.
To start with, we’ll make the dough. Place the yeast, warm water and 1 teaspoon of sugar in a bowl. Let it sit for 10–15 minutes until the mixture bubbles up like this:
Now, take the yeast mixture and combine it with the sugar, margarine, eggs, salt, sugar and soy/almond milk, with 2 cups of flour. Mix on a low speed.
Slowly add in the rest of the flour until dough is no longer sticky. It should feel somewhat like a bread dough. It should look similar to this:
Knead the dough for 5 minutes. This is the time to let out any anger or aggression you’ve been holding in! Pound that dough. (Or, if you’re the always-calm-my-life-is-perfect-what-is-anger type, let the dough hook on your mixer do the mixing for you. )
Cover the bowl with a damp cloth and let rise approximately 1 hour, until dough has doubled in size. As you can see, mine rose right to the brim of the bowl!
Tip the dough out of the bowl and let it rest for a couple of minutes. Roll it out approximately ½ inch thick, and cut circles with a round cookie cutter or with the mouth of a glass.
Let the circles rise for about 30 minutes.
Heat oil in a deep fryer, a pot or a deep frying pan. Aim for low-medium heat. If the oil is too hot, the outside of your doughnuts will start to burn before the centers are properly cooked through.
Drop in a few doughnuts at a time. Flip each doughnut so both sides can brown. With a slotted spatula, remove each doughnut and place them on a paper towel to absorb the excess oil.
Let the doughnuts cool before you fill them with the cranberry jelly.
To make the cranberry jelly, you'll need fresh or frozen cranberries, sugar and water.
Combine all ingredients in a saucepan. Bring to a boil and simmer 20–30 minutes until slightly thickened. Blend slightly, but make sure to still leave some pieces for texture. Pour into a glass jar to cool.
To assemble the doughnuts, you’ll need a sharp knife or pointed spatula, a Ziploc bag and a fine-mesh strainer.
Use the sharp knife or pointed spatula to poke a small hole in the side of each doughnut. Fill the bag with ½ cup of the jam, and cut a small hole at the corner. Stick the Ziploc corner into the hole and give a quick squirt. Using a fine-mesh strainer, sprinkle confectioners’ sugar over the top of each doughnut.
Eat and enjoy!
Dough ingredients:
Cranberry jam ingredients:
Directions:
To assemble the doughnuts, use a sharp knife or pointed spatula to poke a small hole in the side of each doughnut. Fill a Ziploc bag with ½ cup of the jam, and cut a small hole at the corner. Stick the Ziploc corner into the hole and squirt out approximately 1 tsp. jam into each doughnut. Using a fine-mesh strainer, sprinkle confectioners’ sugar over the top of each doughnut. Eat and enjoy!
This recipe yields about 30 doughnuts.
See? That wasn’t at hard as you thought it would be! (Or maybe it was . . .) Leave a comment and let me know.
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| • Fear of G-d (By Yossef Zukin) |  | Acrylic on Canvas | Artist’s Statement: And now, O Israel, what does the L-rd, your G-d, demand of you? Only to fear the L-rd, your G-d, to walk in all His ways and to love Him, and to worship the L-rd, your G-d, with all your heart and with all your soul…(Deuteronomy 10:12) | What is wanted from us? Fear of G-d. "What" can be studied as "hundred" in Hebrew. This verse has 100 letters = 10 x 10 in a perfect complete square. Many allusions to 100 blessings, Moshiach, and fear in this verse. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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