Why Do We Eat a Fish Head on Rosh Hashanah? from Chabad Magazine for Tuesday, Elul 10, 5775 · August 25, 2015

Why Do We Eat a Fish Head on Rosh Hashanah? from Chabad Magazine for Tuesday, Elul 10, 5775 · August 25, 2015
Editor's Note:
Dear Friend,
Rosh Hashanah is coming, followed by Yom Kippur, then Sukkot, and then Simchat Torah.
It’s an exciting time. And it’s expensive.
At this time of year, the Rebbe, of righteous memory, would often point out that we must remember our fellow Jews for whom the holiday preparations present a serious financial burden. There are certainly families in your area who struggle nightly to put food on the table, let alone to put together a sumptuous holiday meal.
So as you plan your meal invites, please include a family or individual in need. Many synagogues and Chabad centers are collecting funds to help the less fortunate among us celebrate with ease. If you can, please call and offer to help. If you are able, volunteer to pack or deliver food baskets. It’s the best way you can prepare for the holidays.
And if you are on the receiving end this time around, please accept our prayers that this year bring you the good fortune and joy you so deserve!
May we all be blessed with a good, sweet, happy, healthy new year.
Mendy Kaminker,
on behalf of the Chabad.org Editorial Team
With whom will you be celebrating this Rosh Hashanah? Please share with us. We’d love to hear from you.
We Are the Child
Your child is not like everyone else; your child is you.
And yet, your child is not you; your child is his own person.
A paradox.
Our souls are that paradox—on a greater scale: the nexus between G‑d and HisUNIVERSE, where His own breath becomes His creation.
That is why we are called His children. And we call Him our Father.
This Week's Features Printable Magazine

"Who Cares?" A Parshah Thought to Remember
By Rochel Holzkenner

Remember what Amalek did to you on the road, on your way out of Egypt. That he encountered you on the way and cut off those lagging to your rear, when you were tired and exhausted; he did not fear G‑d. . . . [Therefore,] you must obliterate the memory of Amalek from under the heavens. Do not forget.
Deuteronomy 25:17–19
Who is this nation of Amalek that deserves such harsh recognition? The fledgling Jewish nation had many enemies, and yet it is only Amalek whom theTorah singles out and tells us to obliterate their memory, enjoining us: “Do not forget.”
Amalek encountered the Jewish people just after they escaped from the clutches of the Egyptians. Doubt is irrational, and yet it can penetrate almost any rational mediumThe Torah tells us in Exodus (ch. 17) that “the people of Israel journeyed . . . and they camped in Rephidim. . . . [Moses] named the place ‘Challenge and Strife,’ because of the strife of the people of Israel and their challenging of G‑d, saying, ‘Is G‑d amongst us or not?’ Then came Amalek and attacked Israel in Rephidim.”
he Torah describes the explicit sequence: the Jewish people expressed their doubts, saying “Is G‑d amongst us?”—and the next thing that happened was Amalek’s attack. Not only did their skepticism make them vulnerable to attack, but it was because Amalek sensed their uncertainty that they took advantage of the young nation.
Doubt is a funny thing. It’s irrational, and yet it can penetrate almost any rational medium. Here was a nation that had experienced the greatest miracles of all time: the ten plagues, the splitting of the Red Sea and the manna. And yet they were not impervious to the plague of doubt.
My mind travels back to high school. One afternoon we were privileged to hear an engaging talk from a world-renowned lecturer. She was intelligent and funny, and wove together an inspirational message. I sat spellbound. After she had finished, I stayed seated to take in her words for another minute. That’s when I overheard a conversation rolling behind me. “Did you like her?” one voice questioned. “Like her? Whatever, they’re all the same. Anyhow, I couldn’t care less, ’cuz we got to miss class.” The first voice responded, “Totally!”
Like a sharp pin pierces a large balloon, I slowly felt my inspiration deflate. They hadn’t refuted the logic or veracity of the lecture, only made a few mocking comments. But I began to doubt.
This is the nature of doubt. It circumvents logic and proceeds to erode away beliefs.
In the Hebrew language, every word has a numerological value. Remember that apathy is an empty rivalThe word Amalek shares the same numerological value as the word safek, doubt. Amalek represents the destructive spiritual force that capitalizes on a doubtful moment and introduces yet another destructive element—irrational indifference.
The Midrash describes Amalek’s attack as follows:
What is the incident [of Amalek] comparable to? To a boiling tub of water which no creature was able to enter. Along came one evildoer and jumped into it. Although he was burned, he cooled it for the others.
So too, when Israel came out of Egypt, and G‑d split the sea before them and drowned the Egyptians within it, the fear of them fell upon all the nations. But when Amalek came and challenged them, although he received his due from them, he cooled the awe of the nations of the world for them.1
This is why G‑d commanded us to remember Amalek for all generations. Intellect will lead a person to pursue truth, idealism and spirituality. But doubt and apathy will look truth in the face and exclaim, “So what?”
G‑d tells us: Remember your inner enemy, Amalek. Remember that apathy is an empty rival.
It does, however, serve one purpose: it challenges the one in doubt to reaffirm and strengthen his faith in G‑d.
FOOTNOTES
1. Tanchuma, Ki Teitzei 9.
BY ROCHEL HOLZKENNER

Rochel is a mother of four children and the co-director of Chabad of Las Olas, Fla., serving the community of young professionals. She is a high-school teacher and a freelance writer—and a frequent contributor to Chabad.org. She lectures extensively on topics of Kabbalah and feminism, and their application to everyday life. Rochel holds an MS in Brain Research from Nova SE University.
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VIDEO

The Meaning of the Shofar
The meaning and symbolism behind the shape of the ram’s horn sounded on Rosh Hashanah.
By Moishe Denburg
Watch (2:02)

More in Video:
• Elul Acronyms (Aaron L. Raskin)

Your Questions   Why All the Symbolic Rosh Hashanah Foods?     By Yehuda Shurpin

Question: I get the idea of eating traditional foods on the holidays. But Rosh Hashanah seems to be over the top. I was at a home where they had half a dozen dishes, each one symbolizing another wish for the coming year. It’s like thinking that G‑d will give you a better year because you ate butter, or a raise in salary because you ate raisins and celery—it seems downright outlandish to me. Why are we rational Jews doing something that seems superstitious? Reply: Since the days of the Talmud, we’ve been eating foods with symbolic import on Rosh Hashanah. In fact, the Talmud’s1 list of things to eat was even codified in the Code of Jewish Law.2 Why is that? Let’s look at some of the answers given: Food for Thought Rabbi Menachem Meiri (1249–1310) explains that these foods serve to focus our attention on the agenda of the day: prayer, repentance and resolution to do good.3 In fact, he says, the custom was initially just to look at or eat these foods and reflect on their meaning.4 With time, people became more engrossed in the eating and less in the introspection; therefore, many adopted the custom to recite a short prayer before eating each food, to ensure that the message remained front and center. By examining the short prayer that some recite on each specific symbolic food, we can understand what one should be reflecting upon when eating. Thus, the head of a lamb or fish, for example, is meant to arouse us to ask that we “be the head, and not the tail."5 Based on this, it would seem that the purpose of this custom is to elicit and better focus our thoughts, since, to borrow a phrase from the Sefer HaChinuch, “a person’s heart and mind always follow after the actions that he does.”6 Others, however, explain that the purpose of this custom is not merely to focus our thoughts; rather, the action of eating these foods itself can, in a way, influence the divine blessings. Concrete Prayers Rabbi Yehuda Loewe, known as the Maharal of Prague (1520–1609), explains that often divine decrees and blessings that G‑d bestows on this world remain only in a potential state in the supernal worlds, until we do a physical act to concretize and give physical form to these decrees. The transition from potential to actual is dependent on a person’s physical actions.7 (This is why the prophets would perform a physical action to symbolize their prophecy. For example, the prophet Elisha had King Joash shoot an arrow toward the land of Aram, the enemy of the Jews at the time, and take an arrow and strike the ground, explaining that the number of blows would determine the force of Israel’s victory over Aram.8) Accordingly, the Maharal explains, we eat foods that have a good sign at the start of the year, so that the divine decrees for a good year will emerge into our physical reality and be fulfilled. In a somewhat similar vein, Rabbi Shlomo Kluger (1783–1869) explains9 that eating these foods is not so much a prayer as it is an expression of our faith that we will be inscribed for a good, sweet year. This in itself, he explains, has the power to transform any negative decree into a positive one.10 May we all be inscribed and sealed for a sweet new year! Rabbi Yehuda Shurpin responds to questions for Chabad.org's Ask the Rabbi service. FOOTNOTES 1. Talmud, Keritot 6a and Horayot 12a. 2. Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 583. 3. Meiri’s commentary on Talmud, Horayot 12a. 4. While the Talmud in Keritot 6a clearly talks about eating the symbolic foods, in some versions of the Talmud in Horayot 12a it states that “a man should make a regular habit of looking at the beginning of the year . . .” Although almost all commentaries are of the opinion that the correct version in Horayot is eat, there are some who argue that look at is the correct version (see Mesoret HaShas on Talmud ibid.). 5. Other symbolic foods include dates, leeks, beets and carrots. The Hebrew word for “date” is tamar, symbolizing our request she-yitamu oyveinu, “that our enemies be consumed.” The Aramaic term for “leeks” is karti, symbolizing our request she-yikartu oyveinu, “that our enemies be cut off.” The Aramaic word for “beets” is silka, symbolizing our request she-yistalku oyveinu, “that our enemies disappear.” The Yiddish word for “carrots” is mehrin (“multiply”), symbolizing our wish that our merits should increase. 6. Sefer HaChinuch, mitzvah 16. 7. Be’er HaGolah, be’er 2. 8. II Kings 13:19. 9. Chochmat Shlomo on Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 583. 10. It should be noted that the Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 583, mentions a number of other customs that are done on Rosh Hashanah, e.g. tashlich and minimizing sleep. Those customs share similar reasons to those outlined here. © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Your Questions   Is G-d Needy? He Expects Us to Pray 3 Times Daily!     By Aron Moss

Question: My family very much enjoyed being at your Shabbat table; thanks again for the invite. I meant to ask you a question that has bothered me for years. It’s about prayer. Does G‑d have such an ego problem that He demands His creations to constantly pray to Him, telling Him how great He is? Not to mention the all the blessings every time we eat something, go to the bathroom, wash for bread, light Shabbat candles . . . Is G‑d so needy that He asks us to continuously bless Him? Answer: We loved having your wonderful family over. You should be very proud of them all. But one thing disturbed me. Your children behaved really well, but I am a little concerned about your wife. Every time your wife gave your son anything, like a piece of chicken, a drink or a toy to play with, she insisted that he say thank you to her. Your son acquiesced, and each time she told him to, he said thank you. This went on throughout the meal, at least a dozen times. This is a worry. Is your wife so insecure that she needs her son to constantly acknowledge her? Is it normal to almost force someone to thank you for even basic needs like food and drink, just to build up one’s own ego? I think you get my point . . . Your wife was being an exemplary mother, teaching her children a valuable lesson on gratitude and humility: when you are given something, big or small, you must acknowledge the giver. Her request to be thanked was not for herself; it was for her children. She got nothing out of her son’s thanks, other than the pride in seeing her child developing his character. But your son was learning a precious lesson. Like a devoted parent who wants the best for His children, G‑d trains us to thank Him. He doesn’t need our thanks so much as we need to thank Him. Because everything we have, including life itself, is a gift. The minute we forget that, the minute we take even the simplest pleasures for granted, we stop living a life of wonder. Parents who do not impart the trait of appreciation to their children are not only making life difficult for themselves, they are robbing their children of a basic tool for life. Only when we see everything as a gift can we be happy with what we have, rather than miserable about what we don’t have. So we should thank G‑d for everything, even for asking us to thank Him. Gratitude is a gift too. Sources: Siddur, Modim DeRabbanan See Talmud, Sotah 40a: “We thank You, G‑d, for the fact that we thank You.” Aron Moss is rabbi of the Nefesh Community in Sydney, Australia, and is a frequent contributor to Chabad.org. © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Rosh Hashanah Toolkit   The Rosh Hashanah 2015 Calendar

Rosh Hashanah’s primary service is the submission to the sovereignty of heaven. Therefore, on these days, even great and prestigious individuals serve G‑d in a manner which appears to be “simple”: constant recitation of Psalms, minimal sleep on both nights (to the extent possible), and particular care not to speak idle chatter . . . —Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn of Lubavitch. Sunday September 13—29 Elul Special selichot services before the morning prayers. The annulment of vows (“hatarat nedarim”) after the morning services. Since the outgoing year is a Shemittah (Sabbatical) year, make a pruzbul after the hatarat nedarim. Alternatively, click here to do your pruzbul online. See More Erev Rosh Hashanah To-Do for more customs associated with the day before Rosh Hashanah. Women and girls light holiday candles tonight to usher in the holiday. See Light Festival Candles for the blessings, and Candle-Lighting Times for Holidays for local candle-lighting times. After the evening services we wish one another, “Leshanah tovah tikateiv v’teichateim—May you be inscribed and sealed for a good year!” After reciting the holiday kiddush benediction over wine (or grape juice), we eat the challah bread dipped in honey. It is then customary to eat a sweet apple dipped in honey; the head of a fish, ram, or other kosher animal; and a pomegranate. In different communities there are other traditional foods eaten at this meal. See Rosh Hashanah Eve Meal for more about this holiday meal. Monday September 14—1 Tishrei First Day of Rosh Hashanah Torah reading: Genesis 21:1–34; Numbers 29:1–6. Haftorah: I Samuel 1:1–2:10. All men, women and children should go to the synagogue to hear the sounding of the shofar. See the High Holiday Services and Events Directory to find a synagogue near you. No way you can make it? Contact your local Chabad-Lubavitch Center. They will do their best to arrange for a shofar-blower to pay you a personal visit. The priests bless the congregation with the priestly blessing during the Musaf prayer. Festive lunch meal; the challah is dipped in honey. In the afternoon, the Tashlich prayer service, in which we ask G‑d to “cast away our sins into the depths of the sea,” is recited at a body of water (sea, river, lake, pond, etc.) containing fish. See What is Tashlich? for more on the Tashlich ceremony. Women and girls light holiday candles using an existing flame tonight after dark to usher in the holiday. Click here for the blessings, and here for local candle-lighting times. A "new fruit" should be present on the table when the candles are lit. When reciting the shehecheyanu blessing, the kindler should have in mind the new fruit which will be eaten after kiddush. The same applies when the shehecheyanu is recited during kiddush. After the holiday kiddush, before washing for bread, the new fruit is eaten. See Rosh Hashanah Eve Meal for more about this holiday meal. The challah is again dipped in honey. Tuesday September 15—2 Tishrei Second day of Rosh HashanahTorah reading: Genesis 22:1–24; Numbers 29:1–6. Haftorah: Jeremiah 31:1–20. All men, women and children should go to the synagogue to hear the sounding of the shofar. See the High Holiday Services and Events Directory to find a synagogue near you. No way you can make it? Contact your local Chabad-Lubavitch Center. They will do their best to arrange for a shofar-blower to pay you a personal visit. The priests bless the congregation with the priestly blessing during the Musaf prayer. Festive lunch meal; the challah is dipped in honey. Afternoon prayers. Evening prayers, followed by havdalah service. Wednesday September 16—3 Tishrei Fast of GedaliahAll men and women over the age of bar or bat mitzvah fast from dawn until nightfall, in commemoration of the assassination of Gedaliah, governor of Judea. See Today in Jewish History for more about Gedaliah. Click here for fast beginning and end times in your location. Pregnant and nursing women do not have to fast on this day. Someone who is ill should consult a rabbi. During the morning prayers we recite selichot (penitential prayers). The Torah is read during the morning and afternoon prayers (Exodus 32:11–14; 34:1–10). After the Minchah (afternoon) Torah reading, a special fast-day haftorah is read (Isaiah 55:6–56:8). During the Amidah of the Minchah prayer, all those who are fasting add a small section, “Aneinu,” to the “Shema Koleinu” blessing. Shabbat Teshuvah (Shuvah) September 19—6 TishreiTorah reading: Parshat Vayelech, Deuteronomy 31:1–31:30. Haftorah: Hosea 14:2–10; Micah 7:18–20. Shabbat kiddush and meal. Challah is dipped in honey. Afternoon and evening prayers are followed by havdalah. © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Rosh Hashanah Toolkit   The Rosh Hashanah Site

Rosh Hashanah   September 13–15, 2015 Quick Links: Holiday Times | Find a Service | Holiday E‑Cards | Tishrei in Ten | Sukkot / Simchat Torah     © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Rosh Hashanah Toolkit   23 Recipes to Enhance Your High Holidays     By Miriam Szokovski

1. Round Challah with Sweet Crumb Topping It’s traditional to use round challahs for Rosh Hashanah, to represent the cycle of life. It’s also customary to eat sweet foods at this time, to symbolize our desire for a sweet year ahead, hence the raisins and sweet crumb topping. 2. Chocolate Pomegranate Tart The tart pomegranate syrup and fresh seeds provide the perfect contrast to the rich chocolate and sweet shortbread crust. I highly recommend it! (Pomegranates are traditional on Rosh Hashanah.) 3. Traditional Chicken Soup What’s a holiday meal without chicken soup? 4. Traditional Rosh Hashanah Tzimmes On Rosh Hashanah, we try to eat sweet foods to symbolize our wish for a good, sweet year ahead. It is also customary to eat foods whose names in the vernacular allude to blessing and prosperity, and the Yiddish word for carrot, meren, also means “to multiply.” 5. Ginger-Infused Roasted Carrot Soup Not a big tzimmes fan? Prefer something less sweet? That doesn’t mean doing away with the carrots altogether. Try this creamy soup with warm ginger undertones. 6. Delectable Melt-In-Your-Mouth Brisket Somehow, brisket has become standard Rosh Hashanah fare across North America, and if you’re trying it, this is the recipe to use. 7. Fruity “Sweet New Year” Roast This roast is soft and sweet, with fruity undertones from the wine and dried fruit . . . 8. Oven-Baked Schnitzel Prefer chicken? Try this schnitzel recipe. 9. Rainbow Pepper Steak Salad Less meat and more veggies? Try this vibrant salad. 10. Apple Noodle Kugel with Cinnamon Crunch Topping Kugel is one of those traditional Ashkenazic dishes which makes some people roll their eyes, but without which others can’t imagine a holiday or Shabbat meal. 11. Sweet Brown Rice Kugel Similar to rice pudding, but a little more solid so you can cut it into pieces. 12. Garlic-Parsley Spaghetti Prefer a less sweet side? Try this pasta dish. 13. Sweet and Sticky Teiglach A sweet Rosh Hashanah classic. 14. Purple Cabbage Salad with Lemon Tahini Dressing With lots of traditional heavy foods, I’m sure lots of us are ready for some lighter eating. This vibrant, delicious salad will leave you feeling healthy and satisfied. 15. Fresh and Healthy Zucchini Ratatouille I love how versatile ratatouille is. It tastes good both cold and warm. You can serve it over rice or quinoa for a filling vegetarian meal, or alongside chicken, meat or fish for a flavorful, light side. 16. Fresh and Vibrant Salad with Creamy Yellow Dressing This salad is fresh and crunchy and the dressing is the hero—it’s thick and creamy without any mayonnaise. 17. Chunky Chicken Soup with Kreplach for Yom Kippur To understand more about kreplach, what they represent and when else we eat them, check out this great explanation. 18. “Lekach”—Honey Cake On the day before Yom Kippur it is customary to ask for and receive lekach (honey cake—signifying a sweet year) from someone—usually one’s mentor or parent. One of the reasons given for this custom is that if it had been decreed, G‑d forbid, that during the year we should need to resort to a handout from others, the decree should be satisfied with this asking for food. 19. Edible (Non-Candy) Sukkahs I’m sure you’ve all seen the typical candy sukkahs. I’m excited to share these healthier versions, using real, simple food you might serve for breakfast, lunch of dinner. 20. Apple and Honey Pavlova with Pomegranate Coulis No need to hold the brisket! You can easily make this a non-dairy dessert. 21. Stuffed Cabbage (Cholopchkes) Just in case you’re not all cooked out yet, here’s yet another traditional holiday dish—a Simchat Torah classic. 22. Chunky Strawberry Apple Pear Compote This compote is a great staple to keep in your fridge if you’re trying to eat healthily. It also freezes well, and tastes great half-defrosted, when it’s all icy and slushy. And with the same recipe you can make this refreshing, naturally sweet drink. 23. Frozen Yogurt Grapes Need a healthy snack while doing all that cooking? Keep these frozen yogurt grapes in the freezer and grab a couple as needed. Wishing you all ketivah vachatimah tovah—may you be written and inscribed for a sweet new year. Miriam Szokovski is the author of the historical novel Exiled Down Under, and a member of the Chabad.org editorial team. She enjoys tinkering with recipes, and teaches cooking classes to young children. Miriam shares her love of cooking, baking and food photography on Chabad.org’s food blog, Cook It Kosher, and in the N’shei Chabad Newsletter. © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Rosh Hashanah Reading   Rosh Hashanah Unwrapped     By Tzvi Freeman

Judaism is mysterious. It comes gift-wrapped from heaven with ribbons, strings and knots, each unraveling to disclose yet another mystery, an ever-widening unknown of yet more knots to untie, more strings to follow along an endless path. And with each unraveling another discovery, and with each discovery a deeper wisdom. Rosh Hashanah is one of those great mysteries. How is it that the beginning of the year appears on the first day of the seventh month? Why are we blowing a ram’s horn, and why do we give it such a central role? What is the cosmic drama of this day, and what is our part in it? Most puzzling is the Torah’s reticence. It speaks cryptically, as though discussing something we are expected to know without it telling us. “It will be a day of sounding for you,”1 we are told. Sounding what? That we are not told. King David wrote in his Psalms, “Sound the shofar at the new moon, at the hiddenness of our festival.”2 And that is the sole biblical reference we have for our tradition that we are to sound not our voices, not a trumpet, nothing else but a ram’s horn. But then another verse tells us, “It will be a day of remembrance of sounding for you.”3 And from this we are to understand not to sound anything—just to remember. Our tradition resolves the matter, that G‑d is requesting, “Recite verses of kingship before Me to make Me your king. Recite verses of remembrance before Me, that the memory of you shall rise before Me. And how? With a shofar.” Oh, what a puzzling tradition. How do we know all this? And how do we know that this is the beginning of the year—something not mentioned anywhere in the Five Books of Moses? The short story is, because we always knew. We knew because when Moses received the Torah, all this was clear to him as well, and he transmitted this information, even if he did not write it down. And even before we heard from Moses, we knew about Rosh Hashanah. Abraham received the ancient teachings from Shem, son of Noah. Noah in return had received from Methuselah, who had received from Enoch. And Enoch certainly knew of Rosh Hashanah, for he received his wisdom directly from Adam, who had been formed on that day. Rosh Hashanah, then, is not just a Jewish holiday. Rosh Hashanah is the birthday of humankind. One mystery closes and another opens. Look through the entire book of High Holiday prayers and you will find no mention of Adam’s birth. What you will find is the repeated statement “Today is the birthday of the world.” You will also find an enigmatic phrase, “This day is the beginning of Your works, a remembrance of the first day.” Suggesting a fascinating thought, indeed one the modern scientist may embrace: perhaps the cosmos was born only when Adam opened his eyes to observe and name each thing? After all, don’t the quantum physicists and cosmologists of today tell us that there can be no events, no universe, without an observer? The universe begins, then, with the creation of the first human consciousness; “He blew into his nostrils the breath of life, and Adam became a living being.” Fascinating, but not quite satisfactory. Because, in fact, the book of Genesis tells that Adam was formed on the sixth day of creation. There was a world before. Granted, a very different world than the one we know of, one in which matter, energy, time and space came into being and took form, in which events occurred at a rapid rate and the simple evolved to the complex within moments of time. But it was a world, nevertheless. Why then, goes the classic question, do we commemorate Rosh Hashanah on the birthday of Adam and not six days earlier on the birthday of the world? And the classic response is: because we are not celebrating an anniversary; “Today is the birthday of the world” means today, now. Today the world is born again. This day is “the beginning of Your works,” reminiscent of the very first time the world was made. Only that the first time the world was born, it was a free gift. Since then, it depends on us, the Adam. And so, it occurs on our birthday, Rosh Hashanah. We are reborn, and within us the entire cosmos. The entire cosmos is on life support. Like the glowing phosphors that form characters on a screen, like a lifelike holographic image—pull the plug and the whole thing vanishes without a trace. Were G‑d to pull the plug on His creation (G‑d forbid), space itself would vanish. Even time would be annulled—the world would never have existed, its history would be erased. Nothing, not even a read-only memory. There is not a particle of the universe that sustains itself. With every moment, the universe and each thing within it pulsates with the vital energy that gives it being. Our planet Earth is a clock to the rhythm by which it throbs—a cycle of moments and days, of months and years. Each moment, the life needed for that moment emerges, is absorbed, and then returns to its source. Each day, the energy for that day; each month for that month. This is the name for month in Hebrew, chodesh, meaning “renewal.” But the most important renewal of life is that which occurs on Rosh Hashanah. Because that is when all life of the previous year returns to its essential source, and a new life, such as was never known before, emerges from the void to sustain existence for an entire year. The quality of this new surge of power will determine everything; as the poet of the Machzor writes, “who will die and who will live.” Some years are years of plenty; others bring blessings more subtle, more concealed. Some are years of joy, others of challenge. In the 48 hours of Rosh Hashanah, all of this makes its entry into the world. That is why every moment of these forty-eight hours counts. That is why we call it Rosh Hashanah—the “head” of the year, and not just “New Year’s Day” or “the beginning of the year”: Just as the head contains within it a neuro-switch for every part of the body, so is the head of the year a concentrated preview of the entire coming year. Because it all enters here. Any moment of Rosh Hashanah could contain the most important day of your year to come. Rosh Hashanah, one could say, is the new year’s birth canal. Curious, isn’t it, that a shofar with its narrow mouthpiece and wider opening resembles a birth canal? In fact, the Bible mentions a great woman with a name of the same etymology: Shifrah. She was the midwife of the ancient Hebrews who left Egypt. Her name means “to make beautiful,” and that is what she did: She ensured that the babies would emerge healthy and viable, then swaddled and massaged them to foster their strength and beauty. The shofar is the midwife of the new year. Into its piercing cry we squeeze all our heartfelt prayers, all our tears, our very souls. All that exists resonates with its call until it reaches the very beginning, the cosmic womb. And there it touches a switch: The Divine Presence shifts modalities from transcendence to immanence, from strict judgment to compassion. In the language of the Zohar, “The shofar below awakens the shofar above, and the Holy One, blessed be He, rises from His throne of judgment and sits in His throne of compassion.” New life enters our world and takes its first breath. It is our own life as well, and it is in our hands. Isn’t this strange, that a created being should take part in its own creation? Imagine cartoon characters participating with the artist in their own design. Imagine them pleading with the broadcasting corporation for airtime in the coming season. Imagine the figments of your own imagination telling you what to imagine. Now imagine us, the created beings, pleading with our Creator, “Grant us life! Good life! Nice things! Be out there, in the open! Get more deeply involved with Your world!” How could it be, in the inner chamber of the Cosmic Mind, where it is determined whether we should be or not be, that there we are, pleading and participating in that decision? There must be something of us that lies beyond creation, something eternal. Something G‑dly. We call it “the G‑dly soul.” That is why we can call G‑d both a king and a father: A king, in the most ultimate sense of kingship, because He determines whether we will be or not be. A father, because there is something of Him within us—and therefore we can take part in that decision. And we are the child. Your child is not like everyone else. Your child is you. And yet, your child is not you. Your child is his own person. So too, each of us has an inner soul that is the breath of G‑d within us. We are the connection point between G‑d and His universe. And so we are called His children. And we can call Him our Father. If so, on Rosh Hashanah, G‑d takes Himself to court. He looks down from above at this world and, as I’m sure you may realize, it doesn’t always look so good. But G‑d is not just beyond the world; He is within it as well. He is found in every atom of this world. But only the soul of Man can argue on His behalf. So we do that. It may sound strange, but this is what is happening: He as He is above takes Himself, as He is present within this world, to trial. We are the lawyers for the defense. We acknowledge that all His complaints are well-founded and just. We plead guilty on all counts. But we demonstrate sincere regret and declare that we now truly accept upon ourselves to clean up our acts and make this coming year a much, much better one than the past. Above all we make sure to speak only good about others and give them our blessings for a good and sweet year. For how we judge others is how we ourselves will be judged. The spark of G‑d within us below connects with the Infinite Light of G‑d above. The circuit is complete, and the universe is rebooted with a flow of energy for an entire year. Rabbi Tzvi Freeman, a senior editor at Chabad.org, also heads our Ask The Rabbi team. He is the author of Bringing Heaven Down to Earth. To subscribe to regular updates of Rabbi Freeman's writing, visit Freeman Filessubscription. FOOTNOTES 1. Numbers 29:1. 2. Psalms 81:4. 3. Leviticus 23:24. © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Rosh Hashanah Reading   From Chaos to Clarity     By Chaya Strasberg

Another long day of cooking has ended. I am busy preparing for the many family members and guests who will be visiting for the High Holidays. I open my freezer and see piles of trays and boxes shoved in, and I fear that one tray that is wedged in particularly precariously might fall out. I begin to empty my freezer onto the counter, organizing the categories of food into piles and thinking of the most effective way to fit it all back in. The month of festivals is arriving. I am preparing for the hectic days aheadI look towards busy days of atonement and celebration. I am cooking and cleaning and preparing myself for the hectic days that are to come, trying to keep my life organized to manage the impending chaos. I crave definition and organization. Many things vie for my attention: my family needs me, work must be dealt with, and my own inner world, vast and detailed, wants to be recognized. I wonder if I can manage to balance all these aspects of myself when the upcoming holidays draw so much of my energy. The festivals seem to come as an avalanche, threatening to sweep me up in their path. As I begin to organize my freezer, putting each thing in its place, I wonder if I will be able to find the space each of these sacred days fills in my life. I know that if I can tap into the energy of the holidays, rather than become subsumed by the logistics, the holidays can propel me on a journey of even greater self-awareness in the new year. The month makes a grand entrance with Rosh Hashanah, the Day of Judgment. On this day, as we stand in the synagogue and hear the piercing sound of the shofar, we solemnly acknowledge that G‑d is the King of the universe. He is the ruler and creator, the one who judges us. On this day He looks at me, His tiny creation, and reflects on every minute deed that I have done for the past year. G‑d, in His infinite and omnipotent glory, will take the time just for me, to judge me and to cherish me. Rather than feel intimidated by all this attention, I feel awed, recognized and oh so valuable. How lucky I am to have a King such as He who values each of his followers so! Close in line comes Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, when we pray to have our sins forgiven. I will stand before G‑d, looking and feeling angelic in my white clothes, asking for a clear slate and a new beginning. I acknowledge the importance I felt on Rosh Hashanah as G‑d accepted the coronation, but now I need the next step of closeness to Him. I will stand for hours in prayer asking for the opportunity to be free from fault. As I will say the final prayer of Ne’ilah, locked in a one-on-one consultation with G‑d, I will know I had my wish fulfilled. How free of constraints I will feel, just like a newborn babe. Following the internal, spiritual process of Yom Kippur, we begin building the sukkah, bringing all that we have experienced down into the physical reality. Sukkot is the time when we immerse ourselves physically in closeness to G‑d by surrounding ourselves with the four walls of the sukkah, representing G‑d’s all-embracing love. We bring together the lulav, etrog, myrtle and willows, symbolically bringing together all types of Jews. Sukkot is the time when I feel most surrounded by G‑d’s love. By going out of my comfort zone, yet continuing to engage with physicality, I feel connected to G‑d through the world. I know that as I sit down to the festival meals with my family in the sukkah, I will feel a warm connectedness with G‑d, my family and the world He created. Simchat We are never satisfied with past accomplishmentsTorah, the final celebration of the month, celebrates the completion of the reading of the Torah—the source of all our inspiration. It is the completion of the festivals, coupled with the completion of an entire year of Torah reading. On this day, I celebrate the success of this month: the coronation of our King on Rosh Hashanah, the forgiveness of Yom Kippur, and the bonding experienced on Sukkot. Immediately, with joyful dancing, we begin to read the Torah once again, for we are never satisfied with past accomplishments but are constantly reaching for new heights. After hours of cleaning, organizing and introspection, I take a moment to survey my work. My freezer has rows of neatly placed roasts, kugels and desserts. My fridge is full of fruits and vegetables. Everything fits perfectly. My mind feels similarly organized, looking towards each of the forthcoming holidays with newfound excitement. I now recognize that every holiday in this auspicious month is so different than the others, each connected to the others but also standing uniquely alone. By engaging with the energy of each holiday, I am able to look towards the individual days for the celebrations that they are. It is an opportunity for me to set aside the stresses of the day-to-day and embark on a journey of discovery of my inner world. I look forward to my family visiting and the hours of prayer, as I know that the hub of activity and introspection will nourish and sustain me through this busy time. As I sit back to admire my efforts one more time, I continue to ponder these concepts. I vow to myself, with a spark of excitement, to make this the beginning of a new journey into a new year, where my bond with G‑d and my relationships with those around me will never weaken and will only grow—even when these powerful and holy days of connection have passed. Chaya Strasberg is a massage therapist and reflexologist. She works in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, giving treatments to women and children. She also lectures on concepts related to health and Chassidism. Contact Chaya for more information. © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Rosh Hashanah Reading   The Moment I Stopped Dreading the High Holidays     By Sara Bressler Rutz

I did not grow up in an observant Jewish household—the only Jewish holiday I ever observed was Chanukah. So when I first went to Chabad and experienced the High Holidays, I have to admit, I initially found them nothing short of terrifying. It all moved so fast. What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to recite? It was very intimidating, especially when it felt like I was the only one who had little to no idea what was going on. Everyone around me was experiencing a range of emotions that I didn’t share. I had never understood everyone’s enthusiasm on January 1st; what did I need another New Year’s for? When my second round of High Holidays was What was I supposed to do?on the horizon, I dreaded them. I dreaded the confusion, the songs I didn’t know, the customs I wasn’t accustomed to. My four-year-old daughter, on the other hand, was thrilled. Kids have a funny way of adapting so much faster than their parents. After only a short time, everything around her had become the norm of her existence. She matched my mounting dread with her mounting anticipation of making shofars in Chabad’s shofar workshop, cutting out apple shapes in Gan Yeladim Preschool, and gluing her photo on a cardboard pomegranate. I tried to mirror my daughter’s enthusiasm, but I just couldn’t. I went through all of the motions, I read up on the meaning of this observance and that observance, but I still couldn’t elicit anything more from myself—that is, until the very end of Yom Kippur. There I was, tired, hungry, wanting to go home. My eyes and my mind were wandering. And then, when I wasn’t expecting it, the shofar sounded loud and long, startling me and literally making me jump. Cesare Pavese once said, “We do not remember days, we remember moments.” That is how I feel about that moment. I don’t remember all of my thoughts during the days leading up to that sound. I don’t remember what I chose to wear that day, the conversations I had or what the weather was like. But I do remember that moment when I heard that one shofar blow, and I think I always will. It was the first time I felt like it was a new year. Yes, maybe the feeling came on the wrong day, but there it was. Looking around at everyone, I felt that I shared their feelings for the first time. It was a new year! Everything would begin again—new opportunities taken and missed, triumphs and losses, elation and sadness, the pain and joy of watching my child grow, and all the ups and downs of the human experience. How fortunate I was that I had all of this to look forward to! I wish I could better explain the feeling I had that moment, or that I could fully understand what elicited it. It is something I will never forgetWhat I can say is that it was something I will never forget. Because of that moment, I now have an attitude closer to my daughter’s: When the High Holidays are approaching, I no longer dread what I don’t know; I look forward to what I’m going to learn. I look forward to hearing my daughter sing, “Dip the apple in the honey, say a brachah loud and clear . . .” And I look forward to a new year, and what a gift it is to have. Shanah tovah to you and yours. Sara lives in Whitehall, Pennsylvania, with her husband, daughter, and too many pets. She is the office manager at Chabad of the Lehigh valley where she helps produce the Wellsprings Magazine which is published 5 times a year. What she enjoys most about working at a Chabad House is having the constant opportunity to learn something new. © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Heralding Hakhel: the Year of Unity   Blast Your Jewish Trumpet     By Levi Greenberg

Typically, the uniqueness of a year can be determined only at its end. The special events, milestones and great accomplishments define how we will remember the past 12 months. Yet there are some years that are significant from the onset. The senior year in high school or the first year of marriage are always special from day one. The new Jewish year of 5776 is unique from the beginning: it is a “Year of Hakhel” (gathering). The Torah teaches that every seventh year, known as the year of Shemittah, the Land of Israel must be allowed to lay fallow. The following year, on the holiday of Sukkot, every Jew—man, woman and child—was obligated to ascend to the Holy Temple for an event called Hakhel. The king would read selected portions of the book of Deuteronomy in the presence of the entire congregation. This served to inspire the nation to remain committed to the Torah and mitzvahs. The Tosefta1 (an early Talmudic text) relates that on the day of Hakhel, the kohanim (priests) would station themselves in all the public areas of Jerusalem and blow golden trumpets to announce the commencement of Hakhel. It was of utmost importance that every kohen participate in this public declaration of Hakhel, to the point that if one failed to do so, his priestly lineage was cast into question. It seems odd to suggest that failure to be part of this campaign would be cause for such backlash. After all, the message of Hakhel would be heard throughout the city even if there was one less kohen blasting his trumpet. However, each individual kohen was a necessary component in spreading the word. The national Hakhel gathering in its glorious format took place only during the Temple era. However, as with each detail in the Torah, it is relevant to our day and age. The Hakhel year is an auspicious time to gather fellow Jews for the purpose of learning Torah and encouraging each other to observe more mitzvahs. Additionally, in the age of modern technology and Internet connectivity, we all have a “trumpet”—a means to spread a message. It may be a social media account, or simply a cell phone that can send out a text message. I suggest we use our “trumpets” throughout the year to broadcast Jewish messages. Update your Facebook status with a Jewish thought, tweet a Jewish quote that inspires you, post a photo on Instagram of yourself doing a mitzvah, and encourage your friends to do the same. We are all needed in the grand marketing campaign of Judaism. #BlastYourJewishTrumpet Rabbi Levi Greenberg is the director of programming at Chabad Lubavitch of El Paso, Texas. FOOTNOTES 1. Sotah 7:8. © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Rosh Hashanah Stories   High Holidays in Tearful Prayer     By Hilel Zaltzman

Grandma's painting of her grandfather praying. The High Holidays in Samarkand were an experience unto themselves. From the beginning of the preceding month of Elul, a change could be discerned in the atmosphere. The people of the community grew introspective, as each individual tried to improve on his or her own religious observance and focus less on material pursuits. One could sense that the Days of Awe were approaching. The two days of Rosh Hashanah were solemn and awe-inspiring. Our minyan took place in a private home, and was made up of some fifteen to twenty men, each person sitting in his place, totally immersed in prayer. We were very careful not to utter anything unrelated to the holiday, and even when we needed to communicate, we preferred to motion with our hands so as not to get caught up in idle talk. Every free moment was devoted to reciting Psalms. At one point, we found out about the Lubavitch custom to arrange, by roster, for the Psalms to be recited continuously throughout all forty-eight hours of the holiday. One could sense that the Days of Awe were approachingAlthough there weren’t enough people between us to arrange a full minyan for each shift, we divided up the hours and each of us took a shift. The shifts would begin ten minutes early and end ten minutes late, so as to ensure a seamless transfer, without any interruptions. In that manner the Psalms were recited constantly, with the exception of the times of the actual prayer services. As I write this, the memories draw me back to those wonderful days. I find myself back in shul for the High Holidays, and it is hard for me to describe the feelings that engulfed us in the small room our minyan was held in. R. Berke Chein stands in one corner, covered with his tallis and saying Pslams in a soft and tearful voice. R. Moshe Nissilevitch stands in another corner, words gently drifting from his mouth. Dovid and Eliyahu Mishulovin sit with their prayer shawls over their heads, reciting Psalms with tremendous concentration, and so on. As the minyan started, everyone began to daven with intense focus, each person as their ability and energy allowed them. Each person looked inside his prayerbook and uttered every word clearly, trying his best to think over the meaning of the Hebrew words. My father had managed to get a hold of a traditional Chabad Tehillas Hashem prayerbook from an individual in Moscow. His desire to acquire it was so great that he paid 700 rubles to buy it from him—the equivalent of an entire month’s salary! After we had obtained the Tehillas Hashem, we were able to more accurately recite the prayers according to our custom. When the leader reached the Shemoneh Esrei, the silent portion of the prayers normally recited together with the minyan, some congregants would still be making their way through the various earlier stages of the prayers. Although we always made sure we had enough people together before beginning Shemoneh Esrei and enough people ready to answer to the Leader’s Repetition, we never tried to hurry anyone. We simply didn’t dare interfere with someone else’s prayer. This We didn’t dare interfere with someone else’s prayersilent prayer always had a unique aura; whispered voices rose and fell, with the sound of quiet sobbing in the background. One cried, another sighed, and yet a third shed tears silently onto the pages of his prayerbook. After the Leader’s Repetition on Rosh Hashanah, we tried to wait for those who were still praying on their own so that they too could be together with the minyan when the time came for the blowing of the shofar; while waiting, the others recited Psalms. With Reb Berke leading the proceedings, the shofar-blowing ceremony, including its prefatory prayers, lasted an hour. His tears would intermingle with drops of sweat, soaking his prayerbook and the table he stood at. After prayers of this intensity, even the way we walked down the street on the way back home was changed. We walked with a focused mindfulness, our heads bowed, looking only within our immediate vicinity. We hurriedly ate the festive meal so as to provide sufficient time for the afternoon prayer and the riverside tashlich ceremony. If I do not err, R. Berke would fast during the two days of Rosh Hashanah, partaking only of the two nighttime meals. I particularly remember Yom Kippur in Samarkand. R. Moshe Nissilevitch would come to the house where the minyan was held, with his prayerbook and Psalms, and remain there until after the fast. From the time he entered the house, he would stand opposite the wall, covered with his tallis, murmuring words of Psalms or praying quietly. R. Moshe always made an effort to stand the entire day. He said it was his father’s custom, and it was one that he kept his entire life. This was his Yom Kippur: completely engrossed in his prayers, oblivious of the goings-on around him; I still cried as I prayedalways praying at his own pace, even if the minyan was ahead of him. His quiet, hoarse voice could barely be heard, and every so often a tear would make its way down his cheek. His Shemoneh Esrei was quite lengthy, as he tried to enunciate each word properly. He would often repeat words of the prayers, apparently to ensure that he had pronounced each one just so. He would be extremely careful not to utter any unnecessary words outside of the prayers. After leaving Russia, it was difficult to become accustomed to the different type of conduct we observed elsewhere. During my first Rosh Hashanah in Israel, I still cried as I prayed; but to be honest, those tears were less from the atmosphere of Rosh Hashanah itself than from my longing for Rosh Hashanah in Samarkand. Excerpted from the upcoming book Samarkand, by Hilel Zaltzman. Hilel is the director of Chamah, an organization which works to share the beauty of Judaism with immigrants from the former USSR. To help bring this book to fruition, please contact the author. © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Rosh Hashanah Stories   The Silent Shofar and the Smith’s Assistant     By Rabbi Shlomo Yosef Zevin

The synagogue in Radomsk, Poland, was packed. It was Rosh Hashanah, and thousands of chassidim had traveled from far and near to spend the holy day in the presence of Reb Shlomo, the Rebbe of Radomsk. It was a special experience not to be missed, as the rebbe would often lead the prayers, interspersing them with with original melodies he himself composed. When it came time for the shofar-blowing, the learned and pious chassid who’d been carefully selected for the task stepped up onto the raised platform in the center of the sanctuary. He’d been preparing for the entire month of Elul, carefully practicing the shofar blasts and learning the deep Kabbalistic meditations that accompany them. With his tallit draped over his head, he recited the blessings with obvious concentration. Then he took the ram’s horn to his lips, ready to blow. Yet, try as he might, not a sound issued from the horn. He tried turning it this way and that, but he could not coax even the faintest peep from the shofar. After many long minutes, to the dismay of the erstwhile shofar-blower, a younger man was called up to take his place. He picked up the shofar, and with almost no effort he produced the prescribed series of sharp blasts. Following the prayer services, Rabbi Shlomo called over the unsuccessful—and crestfallen—shofar-blower and told him the following story: There was once a nation that coronated a new, beloved king. In order to express their great admiration and devotion for their monarch, they decided to commission a new crown for him, the likes of which had never been seen before. An extensive search began for the largest, clearest and most beautiful gems to adorn a crown of pure gold. Finally, a fine assortment of gleaming stones was amassed. Yet no craftsman was willing to set them into the crown. Knowing that each gem was precious and unique, the craftsmen were afraid that they’d damage them or otherwise not do justice to their unparalleled beauty. Finally, one goldsmith accepted the job and asked for a month to work on the crown. For weeks he contemplated the gems and the crown, thinking of the best way to bring them together into a most stunning masterpiece. But he was too scared to actually attach them. Two days before he was due to deliver the crown, he picked it up with a pounding heart. With trembling hands, he prepared himself to set the precious stones as he’d planned, but he was so nervous that he actually dropped the crown. Realizing that he wouldn’t be able to complete the job, he called his assistant, a simple but capable boy, into his workshop. Showing him the crown and the stones, he told the young fellow what needed to be done. While he stood outside—afraid to look—the assistant deftly followed his master’s instructions, and the crown was completed. There are many ways of understanding this tale, and many lessons that can be derived. Since the story was recorded by Rabbi S. Y. Zevin with no conclusions, we pass it on to you, dear reader, as we’ve received it, open to your interpretation and and perspective. Please share your impressions in the comments field. —The Editors From Rabbi S.Y. Zevin's Sippurei Chassidim; translation/adaptation by Menachem Posner © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Parshah   Finding Ourselves Through Others          By Sara Esther Crispe

There is a story of a teenage boy who was suffering from typical teenage angst, and went to the Rebbe for advice. He was having a difficult time, and kept slipping back into situations that he knew were not right for him. He asked the Rebbe: How come G‑d didn’t just create us as angels? If He had, we would be perfect, and we wouldn’t make such mistakes and create such problems. The G‑d wants us to be unique individualsRebbe explained to him that G‑d doesn’t want us to be perfect; He wants us to be unique individuals who grow and learn from our experiences and mistakes. He asked the boy if he understood the difference between a photograph and a portrait. When you want to capture a perfect replica of something you see, you take a picture. The picture can be beautiful, and is exactly what you witnessed with your eye. Yet the typical photograph costs pennies to reproduce. A portrait, on the other hand, is something that is always filled with inaccuracies. It can never be a perfect reproduction of something like a photograph can. If anything, the better the portrait, the more creative license that went into it to bring out the meaning and color and beauty that does not always exist in the surface look. Unlike a photograph, the portrait can sell for millions. People pay for the portrait because it is a reflection not only of the subject, but of the artist as well. That person’s creativity is part and parcel of the portrait. The Rebbe explained that the angels are G‑d’s photographs. We, however, are G‑d’s portraits. The Torah portion that we read on the Shabbat before Rosh Hashanah, Nitzavim, begins: Atem nitzavim hayom kulchem lifnei Hashem Elokeichem—“You are all standing this day before the L‑rd, your G‑d: the leaders of your tribes, your elders and your officers—every person of Israel.” The idea is that before we head into Rosh Hashanah, we gather together as a group, as a community. When we talk about a community, the word used in the written Torah for this iskahal. But the term used in the Oral Torah is tzibbur (spelled tzaddik, beit, vav, reish). Interestingly We head into Rosh Hashanah as a communityenough, the meaning of tzibbur, when used in the Written Torah (vayitzbor Yosef, Genesis 41:49), refers to piling and amassing diverse objects, assembling together very different things. There is a beautiful quote from Elias Canetti, a Jewish writer who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1981, that says: “Jews are different from other people, but in reality, they are most different from each other.” (Crowds and Power) So this idea of a community is the throwing together, the assembling, of a lot of different and diverse parts. The 17th-century Kabbalist Rabbi Nathan Nata Shapiro of Krakow explains in his work Megaleh Amukot that the word for “community” should be understood as an acronym: Tzaddik: Tzaddikim: Righteous Beit: Beinoni: Intermediary Vav: And Reish: Rasha: Not So Righteous What is interesting here is that all of these categories exist together, and they are bound by the letter vav. Vav means “hook,” and hooks together, binds together, what comes before it with what comes after it. So it is not distinguishing between the righteous and the intermediary, and then, down there, the rasha, the wicked one. But rather, it shows that they all must coexist to be considered a tzibbur, a community. It is easy to want to forget those who we don’t feel are worthy of our respect, who we don’t feel deserve to be included. Yet this is our reminder that everyone is part of our community, and no one can be left out or forgotten about. The No one can be left outnumerical equivalent of the word tzibbur is equal to that for the word rachamim = 298. Rachamim is the term for empathy, and this shows us that empathy is required in order to connect to others. What does it mean to have empathy, as opposed to sympathy? Empathy is the ability to truly relate to and understand the other person as if what they are experiencing is also happening to you. It is the ability to connect on an internal level, not just an external one. This is why the root of rachamim is rechem, a womb. Only when we feel that the other is truly a part of ourselves do we have compassion and empathy. And when we feel that the other is a part of ourselves, then we are able to deal with the differences—and the things that need help. If you are told that the baby within your womb has a problem, it is not the baby’s problem, it is your problem, and you love your baby and will do whatever you need to do to solve that problem. So to have a community, there needs to be a feeling of interinclusion; and to truly feel like we are one united group, we need to have empathy and feel that we are all a part of one another. But this is not as simple as deciding that I just need to work on connecting to my neighbor who is really obnoxious. Or that I need to reach out to that woman who is always so rude to me. It is far from that easy. Nor can we look at the levels of the community in the acronym, that of the righteous, the intermediary and the not-so-righteous, and start deciding where we or others belong. Perhaps I think that I am kind of in-between, vacillating between being righteous and not being so great, and you are really pretty perfect and that guy over there is just not so great. So the three of us should get together and go golfing, and we will have formed a nice little rectified community. It goes much deeper. It is not that you are righteous, you are the intermediary and I am the wicked one. But rather, you are all three, he is all three and I am all three. We are all righteous, intermediate and wicked, all in different ways and at different times, and what forms a community is when all of our different ways join together, with empathy for the other, and unify. When We are all righteous, intermediate and wickedwe can recognize this about ourselves and about others, then we can start to understand how we are all here to teach one another, and it is only through learning from others and teaching others that we can start to develop and grow. This is why we read this statement, of how we all stand together before our Creator, right before Rosh Hashanah. And He knows we are not angels, because He didn’t create us to be perfect. But He did create us with the ability to connect with others and become better people. For, after all, a community is comprised of a diverse group of individuals, each with his or her own unique talents and abilities, and each an essential part of the whole. May we be blessed to enter this new year with the ability to reveal our potential and help others reveal theirs. May it be sweet, healthy and productive! Sara Esther Crispe, a writer, inspirational speaker and mother of four, is the co-director of Interinclusion, a nonprofit multi-layered educational initiative celebrating the convergence between contemporary arts and sciences and timeless Jewish wisdom. Prior to that she was the editor of TheJewishWoman.org, and wrote the popular weekly blog Musing for Meaning. To book Sara Esther for a speaking engagement, please click here. © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Parshah   While We’re in Exile, Where’s G-d?     By Naftali Silberberg

In our Parshah, Moses prophesies regarding our nation’s exile as well as our ultimate redemption, regarding which he says, “G‑d will return your exiles and He will have mercy upon you. He will once again gather you from all the nations where the L‑rd your G‑d had dispersed you” (Deuteronomy 30:3). Though galut (exile), by definition, is a time when G‑d’s presence in our lives isn’t manifest and palpable as it was—and will soon again be—during the Holy Temple glory days, it by no means signals a hiatus in our relationship with Him. This idea was expressed by Jacob the first time that our nation was dispatched into exile, when he informed his children that they would spend many years exiled in Egypt, but “G‑d will be with you” (Genesis 48:21). G‑d is omnipresent, He’s with everyone at all times, so Jacob’s special assurance that G‑d would be with the Jews was referring to G‑d’s overtpresence and protection. Indeed, though our exiles have been times of great national difficulty, persecution and worse, it is these very travails that testify to the fact that G‑d is still “with us.” For is there any other explanation for the fact that a small, displaced and defenseless nation outlives all the superpowers that endeavor mightily to annihilate her? But Is G‑d a master conductor who keeps a watchful eye over us while remaining serenely unaffected?lest we think that G‑d is a master conductor who keeps a watchful eye over us while He Himself remains serenely unaffected by our suffering, the verse (Psalms 91:15) quotes G‑d as saying, “I am with him [Israel] in distress.” This was the message that G‑d conveyed by choosing to appear to Moses in a thornbush when the Jews were being oppressed by the Egyptians. When we suffer, it’s as if He is being pricked by thorns. After all, is there a father that is not distressed when his child is in pain? The verse cited above, from this week’s Parshah, takes this idea a step further. The Hebrew wording employed in this verse is rather unusual. Rather than the standard וְהֵשִׁיב, which translates as “He [G‑d] will cause you to return,” the word וְשָׁב, which translates literally as “He will return,” is used. On this our sages comment: “From here we learn that the Divine Presence resides among Israel, as it were, in all the misery of their exile. And when they are redeemed, G‑d writes [here in the Scriptures] redemption for Himself—for He, too, will return with them!” This is not simply a father who is commiserating with his son. This is a father who accompanies his son into exile. A king who voluntarily joins his son in captivity. And when the time of the redemption arrives, He will return together with each and every one of us, as Isaiah prophesies (27:12), “You will be gathered up, one by one, O children of Israel.” Adapted by Naftali Silberberg from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Rabbi Silberberg resides in Brooklyn, New York, with his wife, Chaya Mushka, and their three children. © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Parshah   Parshah Art: The Land of Israel     By Yoram Raanan

“. . . then the L‑rd your G‑d will bring back your exiles, and He will have mercy upon you. He will once again gather you from all the nations where the L‑rd your G‑d had dispersed you. Even if your exiles are at the end of the heavens, the L‑rd your G‑d will gather you from there, and He will take you from there. And the L‑rd your G‑d will bring you to the land which your forefathers possessed, and you [too] will take possession of it, and He will do good to you . . .” (Deuteronomy 30:3–5) On the last day of his life, as the people were about to enter the Land of Israel, Moses gathered them all together to form a covenant with them. He explained that in the future the Jews would break their covenant and G‑d would send them into exile, but ultimately He would bring them back to their own land. Our sages tell us that all Jewish souls, past, present and future, were gathered together at that time to hear this promise. We are witnessing this return with our own eyes and experiencing the miracle of living in this Promised Land. Even in our small rural community, Jews from around the world have come back to the land of their ancestors. It is said that King David wrote psalms in this very place in the Judean hills near Jerusalem. Inspired by the radiance of the land, I have painted the hills surrounding our moshav. Focusing on the light, shadow, color and movement, I tried to capture the spiritual energy of the land. This is actually a photograph printed on canvas and then enhanced with oil pigment and glazes. It is part of a series which was motivated by daily walks, over many months, in the surrounding hills and forests. While the seasons, the colors and the shapes changed, I took hundreds of photographs of the landscape. One favorite mountain, Har Carmilla, I painted over and over again. The play between the photographic reality and the abstract paint allows the landscape to look alive and ever-changing, full of the extraordinary light which shines here. Yoram Raanan takes inspiration from living in Israel, where he can fully explore and express his Jewish consciousness. The light, the air, the spirit of the people and the land energize and inspire him. His paintings include modern Jewish expressionism with a wide range of subjects ranging from abstract to landscape, biblical and Judaic. © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Jewish News   Free High Holiday Services at Thousands of Chabad Synagogues Around the World          By Faygie Levy Holt

The doors to Chabad-Lubavitch centers in North America and throughout the world are open for the High Holidays, offering free services to Jewish people, like at Chabad of Vermont in Burlington. The calendar has turned to September, and the anticipation is palpable. With less than a week before Rosh Hashanah, Jewish men and women the world over—and certainly, the children, too—are preparing for the High Holidays. Meals are in the works, new clothes have been laid out, crafts and projects have been made. And, of course, people are readying themselves for services and synagogue programs of all kinds. The holiday begins this year at sundown on Sunday, Sept. 13, and ends on the night of Tuesday, Sept. 15. But what happens when a family or individual, for one reason or another, has no regular shul to attend? What happens when they find themselves in a new town or in economic straits or, perhaps, decide at the last minute that they want to attend services? Continuing a decades-long tradition that has drawn countless Jews into synagogues for the Jewish high holidays, Chabad-Lubavitch will hold thousands of free High Holiday services around the world as part of a model that has no dues and no membership—a model that other synagogues and organizations around the world are looking to replicate. The message is: “Come one, come all. We will not turn you away.” “I feel that, especially if it is the first time a person comes to a shul, you want them to be comfortable and not think, ‘Oh, I have to pay for it,’ ” says Rabbi Yitzchok Raskin, co-director of Chabad of Vermont in Burlington, Vt., with his wife, Zeesy. “We want people to get involved and get closer to Yiddishkeit.” Since fees can wind up an obstacle, he continues, “we are helping them out on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, when most people want to come to synagogue.” Enter Chabad, Literally Chabad of Vermont will welcome about 100 people for services on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, quite an increase from the 30 or 40 for a typical Shabbat. The Raskins will also host a communal meal on Rosh Hashanah; a donation of $36 is requested, but anyone is welcome to attend. It is Chabad’s firm belief that Jewish traditions and customs are the birthright of every Jew, and that every Jew should have access to them. This year’s services bring added significance as Jewish communities worldwide celebrate the year of Hakhel, a time to promote Jewish unity and learning. Throughout the year, Jewish synagogues and organizations will host communal gatherings for men, women and children dedicated to encouraging the observance and study of Torah. After all, it is Chabad’s firm belief that Jewish traditions and customs are the birthright of every Jew, and that every Jew should have access to them. “The idea that you have someone at the door and don’t let a person in because they don’t have a ticket is simply ridiculous,” says Rabbi Yisroel Fried, program director with his wife, Esther Miriam, at Chabad of the West Side in New York. “Everyone has to be allowed into shul to daven.” Room for Everyone So why charge a fee at all? “We like people to reserve a space by buying a seat because sometimes we are so full we can’t guarantee one,” the rabbi explains. “But if someone can’t afford it or money is tight, we don’t hold people to the requested amount.” Chabad of the West Side can easily fit 250 people around tables in the sanctuary and can add more chairs along the walls, “but it gets really tight space-wise, especially for Kol Nidre and Neilah on Yom Kippur,” says Fried. “Sometimes, we have some people just standing.” He notes that the synagogue has been asking for a seat fee for more than a decade, and that most people understand the need to do so. “We do it in the lightest way possible, and everyone is guaranteed to come in,” he stresses. High Holiday services this fall bring added significance as Jewish communities worldwide celebrate the year of Hakhel, a time to promote Jewish unity and learning. Chabad Houses that cannot accommodate the overflow holiday attendance often rent hotels or other spaces so all can come and pray for the holidays, and bring friends and family members. While a number of Chabad emissaries may have a donor who steps forward to underwrite the costs, most will ask for a nominal fee to help offset the charges. Still, at the end of the day, Chabad emissaries prefer not to charge anything, and rabbis say that should never be the caveat for attending or not attending. Come one, come all—they’ll make the room. Such is the case at the Chabad of Waukesha-Brookfield in Wisconsin, co-directed by Rabbi Levi and Freida Brook. While people are asked to RSVP for High Holiday services, the registration page makes clear that all donations are optional. “Participation in all High Holiday programs is free,” says a note on the webpage. “Consider a donation to help cover the costs of these and other wonderful and vital programs that Chabad of Waukesha-Brookfield brings to our community.” Rabbi Brook believes that affiliation in the Jewish community, especially for the High Holidays, shouldn’t come with any kind of price tag. “We try and have no dues, even though we do have people come every week,” he says. “That’s not to say dues are a bad thing, but I don’t want someone to be in a situation where they get turned away because of what is or what is not in their wallet.” To find out more about High Holiday services and programs at a Chabad center near you, visit the directory here. Rabbi Yitzchok and Zeesy Raskin, co-director of Chabad of Vermont. “We want people to get involved and get closer to Yiddishkeit.” © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Jewish News   In Central Jerusalem, a Special Place for Special People at Friendship Circle          By Mindy Rubenstein

Teen volunteers with Friendship Circle Central Jerusalem, led by Rabbi Eliyahu and Chana (Chanie) Canterman, co-directors of the Chabad Center of Talbiyeh/Mamilla, with help from one employee and a volunteer consultant. The program is looking to bring on more employees as it continues to grow. “This Friendship Circle lives on miracles,” says Chanie Canterman, who has directed the program in central Jerusalem since 2008. In the beginning, she met a few Anglo families who had children with special needs and matched them up with teenage volunteers as part of the “Friends at Home” program, something akin to the International Friendship Circle. The goal at the time was simply to provide respite for those parents who didn’t have any help or support. But word of mouth spread. The program, which is a branch of the International Friendship Circle, now includes 75 families and 120 volunteers. In addition to its other benefits, it helps families navigate the Israeli bureaucracy related to families with special needs, connecting them with relevant services. At present, Canterman has help from a single employee and a volunteer consultant, though she aims to have at least four more employees to be able to run a program of this size (and growing). She recruits from a cross-section of Israeli society, encouraging people to work together as part of a common mission. As a result, volunteer girls from different backgrounds receive training together, and as soon as the staffing situation allows, a boys’ branch will open as well. The volunteers,” stresses Canterman, “are my miracle workers.” The girls at a training session earlier this year with special-needs professionals and parents. “The volunteers,” stresses Chanie Canterman, “are my miracle workers.” Volunteer Yemima Silberg notes that the reason she doesn’t get paid is “not because my work is without value, quite the opposite. It’s because it’s priceless.” Parents are the first to attest to this factor—to all the benefits Friendship Circle offers. Even though he is a volunteer, “Ariel is on the receiving end,” says his mother, Lisa Levi. “It makes him feel good to know that he is a contributing member of society, helping others.” Esti Deutsch—the mother of 7-year-old Shloimie, who has Down’s syndrome—has her own moments of maternal pride and joy: “At Friendship Circle programs, for a few precious hours, I forget that my child is different.” And while financial constraints can limit the scope of operational plans, Canterman relates that help comes in unexpected ways. For example, though they held a “Model Matzah Bakery” workshop this spring, they had no idea how they would meet all the related costs. At the event, a man by the name of Abe came forth and offered to cover the entire program, and since then has continued to support their work. Noga Berlin, a child with special needs, shares her story at an event honoring teen volunteers. “G-d is pulling it from above,” she believes. ‘The Power of Giving’ Chanie and her husband, Rabbi Eliyahu Canterman, also co-direct the Chabad Center of Talbiyeh/Mamilla in Jerusalem. The parents of five children, they focus on reaching out to singles, in particular, hosting dozens for Shabbat meals. In addition to his Torah learning and teaching as part of the Chabad center, Rabbi Canterman is completing a comprehensive dayanut program. As for her Friendship Circle work, Chanie Canterman explains that her 17-year-old sister has Down’s syndrome, “so catering to those with special needs strikes a special chord in my heart.” In Israel, the Ministry of Education requires high school students to perform some hours of community service, and that has been of tremendous assistance to Friendship Circle, attests Canterman. Many teenagers feel that it’s an obligation they don’t need or want, “but if you create an attractive program,” she says, “kids will find it and also find something in it for them.” More than that, they grow to appreciate the connections they make and the skills they have to offer. Canterman and teen volunteers, from left, Yael Pollack, Hullager Yalow and Avigail Vecht Listing the benefits, she speaks of the camaraderie—the moments of warmth and progress—and the empowered teens who discover something beyond measure about humanity and the value of giving. “Volunteers feel that joining Friendship Circle is a privilege,” recounts Canterman. “They experience the power of giving and feel appreciated. They learn the joy of receiving unconditional love.” Being a teenager is fraught with social and emotional challenges, she acknowledges, but as a volunteer working with a special child, they are removed from that for a while. These children, she says, “accept them unconditionally. Here, teens aren’t being judged; they aren’t being asked to change. It’s like a mirror of love. The magic of friendship: This, to me, is the Friendship Circle.” Some of the girls gathered at the recent event honoring teen volunteers from the 2014-15 school year. ‘Just Like Any Other Boy’ It’s also about focusing on one child—and his or her specific needs—at a time. As an example, Friendship Circle Central Jerusalem recently hosted a bar mitzvah for a child with autism. The boy is a member of Friendship Circle in Marseille, France, directed by Chabad Rabbi Michoel Rosenthal, who contacted them for assistance in creating a memorable occasion for the 13-year-old, despite his challenges, during a family trip to Israel. Even for them, this one was different. “We were determined that this Jewish boy should have a celebration just like any other boy, right down to the cake,” she says. Ari cannot speak, so his father had the aliyah while his son sat close to him. “When he reached the words, ‘Asher bachar banu,’ he began to sob, all the way until the end of the blessing,” says Canterman. “At that moment, I felt I was hearing the most beseeching shofar sounds ever.” Since tzedakah, charity, is a mitzvah Ari can participate in, the family and guests filled a box with baby-related items to donate to a local cause. The event concluded with a visit to the Kotel, the Western Wall, where a group of musicians accompanied Ari and his family in joy and prayer. Rabbi Eliyahu and Chanie Canterman The Larger Community The community at large, adds Canterman, has started to embrace what they do. For example, the local municipality offers them use of Mamilla Park for at no cost (which she says was no small feat). These days, Friendship Circle children and teens can be seen drumming down Mamilla Avenue on Lag BaOmer and enjoying a barbecue in the park. People have responded, she says, and look forward to their festive events and joining in them. Friendship Circle parents—Israeli or otherwise—have created a close-knit network among themselves. New olim have joined from countries such as Argentina, Australia, England, France and Russia. Having children with special needs has its own challenges when they arrive; integrating into a new society is an additional hurdle. Canterman sometimes describes what families of special-needs children experience as a “wall of isolation between them and society.” Friendship Circle, she adds, works to lower that wall—to serve as a bridge, and not a divider. For more information, see: www.fcjerusalem.org. Ari, 13, who has autism and cannot speak, recently celebrated his bar mitzvah with Friendship Circle Jerusalem while visiting Israel with his family. Ari's parents. His father read the aliyah as his son sat near him. The event concluded with the family being accompanied by musicians to the Kotel, the Western Wall. Kipahs were designed in honor of Ari's bar mitzvah, with an emphasis on tzedakah. Volunteers share time with some of their special friends at a Friendship Circle Chanukah program at the Mamilla Mall in Jerusalem. (Photo: Max Richardson) © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Jewish News   Hundreds in Estonia to Join in Public Rosh Hashanah Tradition          By Menachem Posner

Getting ready for the High Holidays in Estonia, where the younger generation—raised in the post-Soviet Republic of Estonia—has become much more comfortable with their Jewish identity. In years past, the Jewish community of Tallinn, Estonia, kept a low profile, the long-term result of half-a-century of Soviet oppression and Nazi persecution. Yet come Rosh Hashanah, hundreds of Jewish people will parade through the center of this nation’s capital city again this year, singing Jewish songs, many wearing kipahs on their heads. Like Jews of all ages around the world, they will be participating in an ancient ritual known as Tashlich, which involves going outdoors to a natural pool of water on the first day of Rosh Hashanah following the afternoon prayer service and saying Psalms and other prayers there. “It’s one of the high points of our year,” says 28-year-old Eliyahu Shmorgun. “I go with my family and with my friends from the community, who have become a second family for me, and we so enjoy being with each other and openly displaying our Jewish identity.” Rabbi Shmuel Kot, the country’s chief rabbi and Chabad-Lubavitch representative, says when he first came to Estonia in 2001, “very few people were willing to come with me for Tashlich. They were afraid to be seen in the open with a rabbi with a beard and black hat. Some who did come would lag a few paces behind or otherwise try to remain inconspicuous.” Undeterred, the rabbi, his wife Chanie and their growing family made their annual trip to Talinn’s port with anyone brave enough to come along. After a few years, the group grew to a dozen. By now, the annual tradition attracts some 200 people, an estimated 10 percent of the local Jewish population. The procession is preceded by a festive Rosh Hashanah meal at the community’s modern glass-and-steel synagogue and community center. Rabbi Shmuel Kot, the country’s chief rabbi and Chabad-Lubavitch representative, leads a program prior to the start of Shabbat. “Not everyone in our community is yet at the stage where they take off work on Rosh Hashanah morning, so an afternoon meal allows more people to participate,” notes Kot. Shmorgun adds that “the rabbi just came 15 years ago, so our community is relatively young. Like most others here, I just began learning about Judaism as a young adult. We are a small community, but we are very close-knit and support each other as we grow in our Judaism.” After everyone has eaten their fill of round challah, honey, sweet chicken and other holiday delicacies, they set out for the city’s harbor—one of the busiest passenger ports of the Baltic Sea. Normally a 10-minute walk, the participants stop frequently as the rabbi blows shofar for the families and individuals who continuously join the boisterous crowd. As they stride forward, they sing and clap to familiar Hebrew songs, as well as to “Napoleon’s March,” a Chabad melody sung at the conclusion of Yom Kippur and during communal marches on festivals. (In fact, in 1941, just months after the Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—had escaped Nazi-occupied France, he arranged that the Chassidim sing a joyous song and march two-by-two down Eastern Parkway in Brooklyn, N.Y., to perform Tashlich at a pond in a nearby park.) The Estonian Jewish Center in Talinn; the modern glass-and-steel building was completed in 2007. ‘Judaism More Accepted’ Upon arrival, against the backdrop of the shimmering Baltic, the rabbi shares a few words with the jubilant crowd, blows the shofar yet again for those who missed the previous blowings and leads the assembled in the short Tashlich prayer. Often, they then break out into spontaneous dancing at the pier, something that would have been unimaginable just decades beforehand. The rabbi notes that the younger generation—raised in the post-Soviet Republic of Estonia—seems comfortable in their identity as Jewish people in a country with an ethnically Estonian majority and a very significant Russian minority. Mostly Russian speakers, the Jews of Estonia are a minority within a minority. “I feel that in Estonia today, most people have never encountered a Jew, and are vaguely curious when they see a Jewish person wearing akipah and tzitzit,” says Shmorgun. “But our rabbi has appeared regularly at the president’s Independence Day celebration looking like a Chabad rabbi should, and there is a growing core of Jewish people who identify publically as Jews all the time. “Judaism is becoming more and more accepted as a part of our society. It’s moments like this that keep us going.” Wrapping tefillin in synagogue. The Jewish community in Estonia is getting ready for what has become a growing tradition there—participating in Tashlich, where in this case, Jews will symbolically cast their sins into the Baltic Sea. © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Jewish News   Moscow Scribal Center Offers Russian Jews a Holier Type of Luxury          By Dovid Margolin

At the newly opened Lishkas Stam, near Chabad’s central Moscow Jewish Community Center. A trained scribe unfurls the tiny parchment and peers at its intricate black letters. He dabs his quill into ink to make a small correction. This scribe—or sofer in Hebrew—is not sitting in Jerusalem or Brooklyn; he’s at the offices of the newly opened Lishkas Stam in Moscow. The sofer and the center’s presence are a testament to just how much Russia’s Jewish community has grown—not just in breadth, but in depth. The center, which sits not far from the Chabad’s central Moscow Jewish Community Center in the city’s Marina Roscha neighborhood, was inaugurated this week by Russia’s Chief Rabbi Berel Lazar, who affixed a mezuzah to the center’s front entrance. The art of writing and checking Torah scrolls, tefillin and mezuzahs is a painstaking and unforgiving one, requiring years of practice and knowledge. It is a highly specialized field, one that can sometimes even run through a family, passed down from father to son. Like a ritual slaughterer, a scribe must be known to be a G‑d-fearing individual as well. After all, they are entrusted with creating Judaism’s holiest objects—items that serve not as mere decorations, but are used and relied upon for daily ritual. In Moscow, Lishkas Stam will be selling high-quality tefillin and mezuzahs, as well as checking and fixing them, serving the general Jewish community and the Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries who lead Jewish communities around the vast country. Officially opened this week, the office began working slowly four months ago; in that time, they have checked more than 100 pairs of tefillin and 300 mezuzahs. Rabbi Yitzchak Zilber, a sofer (Torah scribe) at the new center Operating under the supervision of the chief rabbinate of Russia, Lishkas Stam is directed by Rabbi Schneur Zalman Deren and its team of scribes: Rabbi Yitzchak Zilber and Rabbi Eliyahu Dickstein, led by Rabbi Leib Artovsky. A New Era Rabbi Yitzchak Zilber, 31, didn’t always dream of becoming a sofer. The Russian native was born and bred in the frozen northern city of Syktyvkar, Komi Republic—1,300 kilometers north-east of Moscow. Growing up, his family was somewhat traditional, and at age 21 he made an online search looking for the proper way to make Kiddush on Shabbat. “I ended up on the site of a summer yeshivah in Petersburg,” says Zilber. “I attended that summer and came back home to Syktyvkar for a few weeks before going back to yeshivahfor good.” He studied at the yeshivah in Moscow before going to Israel, where he began studying safrut—the art of being a scribe. Now married and living in Moscow, Zilber says they’ve seen much interest in the wider Jewish community for their services. “I would say that about 60 percent of the people we’re seeing are only loosely involved with the community,” he says. Whereas for years religious items such as these, which can cost a great deal, were often distributed within the community for free or at least at a great discount, today many want them of their own volition. And they want to choose items for themselves. Says the rabbi: “There are people coming in who want to purchase a mezuzah for their home because they themselves feel it’s important.” Russia’s Chief Rabbi Berel Lazar directly observes the work—the art of writing and checking Torah scrolls, tefillin and mezuzahs. Getting a closer look at the writing. Lazar affixes a mezuzah to the doorpost of the center, which serves as a testament to just how much Russia’s Jewish community has grown. The many accoutrements of a scribe Organized materials at the ready © Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.

Chabad.org Magazine   -   Editor: Yanki Tauber

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