"Is Marijuana Kosher?" Chabad Magazine Wednesday, Shevat 3, 5776 · January 13, 2016

"Is Marijuana Kosher?" Chabad Magazine Wednesday, Shevat 3, 5776 · January 13, 2016
Editor's Note:
Dear Friend,
We recently moved to a new apartment, so it was time to have our mezuzahs checked for any possible blemishes. I ended up taking them to a recommended scribe in Los Angeles—and I live in the San Fernando Valley, so if you’re familiar with the L.A. area, you know that schlepping “over the hill” to the city is quite a feat.
The day the mezuzahs were ready, L.A. was hit with an El Niño, causing torrential rain that flooded the streets. (I know, I know, we’re lucky we don’t have to deal with snow and ice, but this was a big deal for us Californians!)
So now not only did I have to go “over the hill,” I had to do so in El Niño weather! But I was determined to get my mezuzahs. Thankfully, all went well and I arrived home safely. As my husband affixed themezuzahs to our doorposts, I felt the enormity of the mitzvah and my small “sacrifice” to make sure that it was done in the proper time.
When have you made the effort to do a mitzvah, even when it wasn’t easy? Let me know in the comments below!
Sasha Friedman,
on behalf of the Chabad.org Editorial Team
Bo

Love Pulls
There is only one way to bring people closer to Torah, whether your friend, your spouse, your child or a complete stranger.
It is not with rebuke, not with arguments, not with intellectual games—but by drawing them with thick ropes of love, by showing your faith in who they are.
And with real deeds.
Parshah

Why There Are Two Jewish New Years
Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe
Nissan is the first month, but it comes six months after the beginning of the year; Rosh Hashanah is the first day of the year, but it falls in the seventh month. Makes sense? It does, if you’re a Jew.

The Midnight Mystery
Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe
Why did the Exodus have to take place precisely at midnight? Indeed, what is “midnight”?
Your Questions

Is Marijuana Kosher?
By Chabad.org Staff
Rabbi, marijuana is a plant. Since when does a plant need to be certified kosher?

Why Do We Smell Aromatic Spices (Besamim) at Havdalah?
By Yehuda Shurpin
These reasons are bound to surprise you.
Essay

Travels with Chabad
By Thomas P. Balázs
In Search of Friends

Are You Cool or Quiet? That Depends!
By Yonason Beitz
In my teenage mind, there were only two categories of people: the “cool” ones and the “quiet” ones.
Video

Sign Up for Our New Course on G-d’s True Nature
The Infinity of One: Are we a contradiction to G-d's omnipresence? Can our world and G-d coesxit? Presenter: Rabbi Yechezkel Kornfeld
Women

How a Famous Actress Led to a Family Revelation
By Lieba Rudolph
If a family tree falls in my email forest, it's because I am meant to hear it. And, more importantly, to recognize where it really came from.

The Moment I Recognized My Life’s Purpose
by Yetta Krinsky
I grew up lost and confused. It took many years, 38 to be precise, before the process (and my entire worldview) was totally rebooted in a way I would never have expected—all in the space of just a few moments.
Story

The Miraculous Downfall of Ivan the Evil
By Miriam Nevel
Ivan Stepanovich stood on the platform, looking forward to the trial. He felt certain he would be rid of the rich Jew once and for all.
The Kosher Interviews

An Interview with the Women Who Spearhead the Central Kosher Campaign
By Menachem Posner
A focus on what Jewish people consume and how it affects their lives.

An Interview with a Kosher Rabbi
By Menachem Posner
A Canadian rabbi deconstructs his work making kitchens and all implements in it kosher

An Interview with a Couple Who Took the Plunge
By Karen Schwartz
Toronto couple says it ‘puts you in a holier mindset and sphere.’
Kosher Cooking

Pulled Beef Sandwiches with Crunchy Coleslaw
By Miriam Szokovski
Chabad.org Magazine - Editor: Yanki TauberThis Week's Features:

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The Infinity of One: Are we a contradiction to G-d's omnipresence? Can our world and G-d coesxit? Presenter: Rabbi Yechezkel Kornfeld

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 The Infinity of One

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About the Course:

The Shema is perhaps the best-known Jewish prayer. The last words of millions of Jews as they were massacred at the hands of the Greeks, burned at the stake in Spain and gassed in German extermination camps. We say it every morning and every night.

But why? What is it about these words that encapsulates the core of Jewish belief?

Does G‑d leave things up to fate, or does He really micromanage every aspect of existence? Why did G‑d create the world? What purpose does it serve Him? What is our purpose?

In this course you will learn answers to these burning questions. Gain a deeper appreciation for G‑d, the world around you, and your place in it all.

What You'll Learn:

How to have a relationship with G‑d

How to maintain motivation in fulfilling our purpose

Why G‑d cares about our world

Why G‑d is constantly involved in the world

The deeper meaning of the Shema

Course Syllabus:

Lesson 1: G‑d, One or Only?

January 18, 2016

In this class you will study the Chassidic elucidation of the grammatical choice of the word echad ("one") in the Shema, in contrast to yachid ("singular"), and the significant implication of this to G‑d's relationship with creation.

Lesson 2: Sinaitic Spirituality vs. Today's Experience

January 25, 2016

You will learn what really happened at Sinai when G‑d came down on a mountaintop. What was the reality of our ancestors at that time? In what way is it different from what we experience today? What does G‑d need us for anyway? See how all this is packed into the single word of echad.

Lesson 3: G‑d vs. Man

February 1, 2016

You will examine the notion of "constant recreation," whereby G‑d creates the universe from nothing every moment. To understand this, you will learn the key difference between human creation and divine creation.

Lesson 4: When and Where G‑d Is Found?

February 8, 2016

Based on what you've learned, you will now answer the question of how anything can exist in the face of an infinite G‑d.

Q & A with Rabbi Kornfeld

February 15, 2016

Rabbi Kornfeld will attempt to explain any concepts which require more attention, as well as your questions, to close out the course.

What Is Kabbalah:

Inside your body breathes a person—a soul. Inside the body of Jewish practice breathes an inner wisdom—the soul of Judaism. We often call it Kabbalah, meaning "receiving." Just as Jewish practice is received through an unbroken, ancient tradition from the revelation at Sinai, so is its soul. Kabbalah, then, is the received wisdom, the native theology and cosmology of Judaism. Read more...

What Is Chassidut:

Chassidus (or Chassidut) is the inner dimension of Torah, explored and taught by the Chassidic masters. . Read more...

Additional Resources:

Oneness and the Infinite

G‑d is One - The Shema Prayer (Audio Class)

What Is G‑dliness?

What Is G‑d?

Course Specifics

Level: Introductory / Intermediate

Length: 5 weeks

Effort: 35 minutes per week

Category: Kabbalah/Chassidut

Insitution: Chabad.org | Jewish.tv

Language: English

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Meet the Instructor:

Rabbi Yechezkel Kornfeld received his rabbinic ordination from the Central Yeshiva Tomchei Tmimim Lubavitch in Brooklyn, N.Y. He was profoundly influenced by the legendary chassidic teacher, Rabbi Shlomo Chaim Kesselman of Kfar Chabad, Israel. He also studied in the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary (RIETS), the theological department of Yeshiva University (YU).

Rabbi Kornfeld currently lives with his wife Devorah in Mercer Island, Wash. An affiliate Shliach of Chabad Lubavitch of the Pacific Northwest since 1975 and a member of the Rabbinic Council of Seattle, he has served as rabbi of Shevet Achim Congregation of Mercer Island, WA since 2003.

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Parshah    Why There Are Two Jewish New Years     Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe

G‑d spoke to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt, saying: This month shall be to you the head of months—the first of the months of your year. Exodus 12:1–2 Rabbi Eliezer says: The world was created in Tishrei. . . . Rabbi Joshua says: The world was created in Nissan. Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 10b–11a The Talmud tells of an exchange between the wise men of Athens and Rabbi Joshua, in which the Greek philosophers challenged the Talmudic sage to identify the exact center of the world. Rabbi Joshua held up his finger and said, “It is right here. You can take ropes and measure it, if you wish.” As every schoolchild knows today, the earth is a sphere, meaning that its every point can be considered its center. If a certain point is regarded as the top or bottom of the globe, or a certain half is designated as its eastern or western hemisphere, these are expressions of a particular historical or conceptual view of our world. In purely geometrical terms, the surface of a sphere has no definitive top, bottom or center, just as a circle is a line with no definitive beginning or end. The time we inhabit is also circular in form. As we travel through time, we come in contact with the various qualities imbued in it by its Creator: freedom on Passover, awe on Rosh Hashanah, joy on Sukkot, and so on. But each year we return, like a traveler circling the globe, to the same point in the annual cycle at which we stood a year earlier. Theoretically, any point in this cycle can be regarded as its beginning. This explains a curiosity of the Jewish calendar. We know that the Jewish year begins on the first of Tishrei—a day we observe as Rosh Hashanah, “the Head of the Year”—and ends twelve (or thirteen) months later, on the 29th of Elul. But if the head of the year is on the first of Tishrei, why does the Torah (in Leviticus 23:24) refer to Tishrei as the seventh month of the year? And why is the month of Nissan, occurring midway through the Tishrei-headed year, designated—in the very first mitzvah commanded to the Jewish people—as “the head of months, the first of the months of your year”? But like a sphere with two poles, the Jewish year has two “heads” or primary points of reference, each of which is equally its beginning. Our annual journey through time is actually two journeys—a Tishrei-to-Elul journey, and a Nissan-to-Adar journey. Every day on the Jewish calendar can be experienced on two different levels, for it simultaneously exists within these two contexts. (For example: in the Tishrei-to-Elul year, Yom Kippur is the climax of the Ten Days of Repentance that begin on Rosh HaShanah; on the Nissan-to-Adar calendar, Yom Kippur is the second “giving of the Torah,” culminating a 120-day process that begins on Shavuot. In the Tishrei-to-Elul year, the seventh day of Passover is the cosmic “birth of the souls,” following their “conception” on Shemini Atzeret, the eighth day of Sukkot; in the Nissan-to-Adar year, Passover is the first festival, commencing a cycle that culminates in Purim, “the last miracle” and the final frontier in our quest for connection with G‑d.) A Miraculous People As already noted, both these beginnings for the Jewish year are referred to in the Torah as “heads.” The first of Tishrei is Rosh Hashanah, “the Head of the Year,” while the month of Nissan is designated as “the head of months.” The head is the highest part of the body, in both the literal and spatial sense, as well as in that it is the seat of its loftiest and most sophisticated faculties. More significantly, it serves as the body’s nerve and command center, providing the consciousness and direction that guide the body’s diverse components toward a unified goal. And the Jewish year has not one but two heads. For Jewish life embraces two different—indeed, contrasting—modes of existence, each with its own nerve center and headquarters. The “Head of the Year” that we’re all familiar with—the one on which we sound the shofar and pray for a healthy and prosperous year—occurs on the first of Tishrei. The first of Tishrei is the anniversary of G‑d’s creation of the universe, particularly His creation of man. On this day we reaffirm our commitment to G‑d as our Creator and King, and ask that He inscribe us in the book of life. But if the first of Tishrei is the first day of human history, the month of Nissan marks the birth of Jewish time. On the first of Nissan, 2448 years after the creation of Adam, G‑d commanded His first mitzvah to the fledgling nation of Israel—to establish a calendar based on the monthly lunar cycle. On the fifteenth of that month, the Jewish people exited the land of Egypt and embarked on the their seven-week journey to Mount Sinai. The Jew is a citizen of G‑d’s world—a status he shares with all other peoples and all other creations. As such, his head of the year is the first of Tishrei, the birthday of man and the Rosh Hashanah of the natural world. But the Jew also inhabits another reality—a reality born of the supra-natural events of the Exodus, the splitting of the Red Sea and the divine revelation at Sinai. This dimension of his life has its own “head”—the miraculous month of Nissan. For the first twenty-five centuries of human history, the basic, natural relationship between Creator and creation held sway. The Torah records miracles and supernatural events prior to the Exodus, but these are exceptions, temporary departures on the part of G‑d from His normal manner of running the world in accordance with the predefined formula we call “the laws of nature.” The Exodus, on the other hand, produced the Jew, a being whose very existence is a perpetual miracle. The Jew makes redemption a constant, living a life in which the miraculous is the norm. G‑d of the Exodus This is why, when G‑d revealed Himself to us at Sinai, He proclaimed: “I am the L‑rd your G‑d, who has taken you out from the land of Egypt, from the house of slavery.” Would it not have been more appropriate, ask the commentaries, for G‑d to introduce Himself as the creator of the heavens and the earth? Is not the fact that we owe our very existence to G‑d more significant than the fact that He took us out of Egypt? But G‑d as the creator of the heavens and the earth, G‑d as the author of nature, is the G‑d that Israel shares with the rest of creation. At Sinai, however, G‑d did not speak to us as the G‑d of creation, but as the G‑d of the Exodus. At Sinai, a new chapter was opened in divine-human relations, as G‑d and the people of Israel committed themselves to a miraculous relationship—a relationship that does not recognize the dictates of convention and normalcy. It is for this reason that our sages question the very inclusion of the first 2448 years of history in the Torah. In his commentary on the very first verse of the Torah, Rashi cites the question posed by Rabbi Yitzchak: Why does the Torah begin, “In the beginning [G‑d created the heavens and the earth]”? It should have begun, “This month shall be to you [the head of months],” which is the first mitzvah commanded to Israel. If the Torah is the document that outlines our mandate as a people unconstricted by the laws of nature and history, of what relevance are the events of the pre-Exodus era? And even if they are of historical and educational value, should the Torah begin with these stories? Cross-References And yet the Torah does not begin with that first mitzvah, commanded on the first of Nissan, but with the creation of the world on the first of Tishrei. Our covenant with G‑d, though a product of the Exodus and of a Nissan/miraculous character, has its roots in the natural soil of Tishrei. Indeed, the Exodus itself also has its beginnings in the month of Tishrei: the Talmud notes that the process of our liberation from Egypt began on the first of Tishrei, when the hard labor imposed upon our forefathers by the Egyptians ceased six months before they actually left Egypt. The reverse is also true: the creation of the natural world on Tishrei has its origins in the month of Nissan. Our sages tell us that while the physical world was created in the six days that culminate in the first of Tishrei, the “thought” or idea of creation was created six months earlier (conceptual months, that is, since physical time is itself part of the physical creation), on the first of Nissan.1 In other words, the natural and the miraculous time-systems are mutually interconnected, each serving as the basis for the other. As Jews, we follow both cycles, straddling both worlds. On the one hand, even the most natural aspects of our lives are predicated upon the miraculous, and are permeated with a norm-transcending vision. On the other hand, our most miraculous achievements are grounded in the natural reality. For our mission in life can be achieved only by inhabiting both worlds—only by being a part of the natural world and, at the same time, rising above it to transcend its strictures and limitations. The Paradox Our mission in life is to transform the very nature of reality; in the words of the Midrash, to build “a dwelling for G‑d in the lower realms.” “This,” writes Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi in his Tanya, “is what man is all about; this is the purpose of his creation and the creation of all the worlds”—that we transform the lower realms (i.e., the natural, material world, which by its nature conceals the face of its Creator) into an environment receptive to the divine truth, into a place in which the goodness and perfection of G‑d is at home and is the dominant reality. But here comes the paradox, a seemingly closed logical circle: are we ourselves part of this “lower realm” we are to transform, or are we a step above it? If we are part and parcel of the material world, how can we truly change it and uplift it? As the Talmudic axiom goes, “A prisoner cannot release himself from prison”—if he himself is bound by its parameters, from where might derive his ability to supersede them? On the other hand, if we are, in essence, transcendent beings, existing beyond the confines of the natural reality, then whatever effect we have upon the world cannot truly be considered “a dwelling for G‑d in the lower realms.” For the world per se has not been transformed—it has only been overwhelmed by a superior force. The true meaning of “a dwelling in the lower realms” is that the lowly realms themselves change, from within. So to achieve His aim in creation for a dwelling in the lower realms, G‑d created the Jew, a hybrid of the Tishrei and Nissan realities. For only in incorporating both these time-cycles in our lives, combining a norm-defying approach with a natural-pragmatic modus operandi, can we achieve the redemption of ourselves and our world. Only by drawing from above to change from within can we make our world a home for G‑d. Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson; adapted by Yanki Tauber. Originally published in Week in Review. Republished with the permission of MeaningfulLife.com. If you wish to republish this article in a periodical, book, or website, please email permissions@meaningfullife.com. FOOTNOTES 1. The Talmud (Rosh Hashanah 10b–11a) cites a debate between two sages: “Rabbi Eliezer says: The world was created in Tishrei. . . . Rabbi Joshua says: The world was created in Nissan.” The Kabbalists explain that Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Joshua are not debating the date of G‑d’s actual creation of the universe, which after all is a matter of historical fact. Rather, both sages agree that the physical world was created in Tishrei, and that the idea of creation was created in the month of Nissan. Where they differ is on the question of priority and emphasis: is the day that the physical universe was completed to be regarded as the primary anniversary of creation, or is the world’s true date of birth the day that it was conceived in the divine mind? © Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.

Parshah    The Midnight Mystery     Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe

At midnight of 15 Nissan 2448 (1313 BCE), G‑d broke the last manacle of Egyptian bondage by killing all Egyptian firstborn, and the nation of Israel was born as a free people. The time is significant: twice1 the Torah emphasizes that the event occurred exactly at midnight, and to this day, midnight is a factor in our annual re-experience of the Exodus at the Seder held each year on the eve of 15 Nissan. (Midnight is the deadline for the eating of the matzah and the bitter herbs, for the eating of the meat of the Passover offering, and for eating the afikoman which today represents the Passover offering at our Seder.) But can an event actually take place at midnight? It would seem not. If midnight is the line that divides the night in two, then it is not a time period of any duration. No matter how minute a time-particle we might envision as occupying the center of the night, this particle can itself be halved—its first half would belong to the first half of the night, and its second half to the post-midnight half of the night. Indeed, a more literal translation of the Hebrew words kachatzot halailah, rendered above as “at midnight,” would read “as the night divides.” How, then, can anything be said to occur at the time that the night divides? The Midrash cites two opinions as to the nature of the night’s division that first Passover eve. According to Rabbi Yishmael, “The night’s Creator halved it”; according to Rabbi Yehudah ben Beteira, “He who knows His times and moments halved it.”2 The sixteenth-century sage Rabbi David ibn Zimra (Radbaz) explains the meaning behind the words of these two sages. Rabbi Yishmael is saying that G‑d, who created night, day and time itself, can obviously manipulate them at will. G‑d literally split the night in two, opening an expanse of timelessness between its halves. In this time-vacuum, G‑d smote the Egyptian firstborn and freed the children of Israel. Rabbi Yehudah, however, is of the opinion that G‑d effected the Exodus within physical time, not in some time-transcendent reality. What G‑d did was to coordinate His action with the exact midpoint of the night, so that the initial state ended with the night’s first half, and the state effected by His action began with the onset of its second half. This He was able to do because He knows His times and moments absolutely. [In other words, every action is the effecting of a change from state A to state B. So in truth, no time duration is required in which to effect a change, only a point in time to mark the end of state A and the beginning of state B. But since no physical instrument, human or artificial, can measure time with absolute accuracy, man in timing his deeds can at best define a stretch of time (perhaps even a very small stretch of time) within which the change will take place. G‑d, however, who has absolute knowledge of His times and moments, can position His deed (in this case, the taking of the lives of the Egyptian firstborn and Israel’s transformation from slavery to freedom) exactly on the durationless line that halves the night, effecting a change at the very point that lies between the night’s former and latter parts.] What is the point of all this? Why did the plague of the firstborn have to transpire precisely at midnight? And what is the significance behind the differing scenarios of Rabbi Yishmael and Rabbi Yehudah? The Tenth Plague The plague of the firstborn was the tenth of a series of plagues visited upon the Egyptians. But there was a basic difference between this plague and the first nine—a difference that touches on the very nature and function of the plagues themselves. The primary objective of the first nine plagues was to prove a point—to instill an awareness among the Egyptians. In Moses’ words to Pharaoh: So said G‑d: “With this you shall know that I am G‑d: behold, I shall strike . . . the waters of the Nile, and they shall turn to blood.” If you do not let My people go, I will send swarms of wild beasts at you . . . in order that you know that I am G‑d. Once again, I am sending all My plagues . . . in order that you know that there is none like Me in the land.3 The tenth plague, however, was more than a demonstration of divine power: it came to punish and destroy, to break Egypt and to free Israel from its midst. This explains a puzzling difference between the first nine plagues and the plague of the firstborn. The first nine plagues threatened only the Egyptians; the children of Israel were immune to them.4 The Midrash tells us that during the plague of blood, if an Egyptian and a Jew drank from the same cup, the Jew drank water while the Egyptian drank blood; that during the plague of darkness a Jew could enter an Egyptian’s home in broad daylight, while to the Egyptian the world was shrouded in darkness. But in the case of the plague of the firstborn, the Jews were as vulnerable to the plague as their Egyptian neighbors, and a series of protective measures had to be taken so that the Jewish firstborn would not also die. The Jews were commanded to make a Passover offering (korban pesach) to G‑d—slaughter a lamb or goat, sprinkle its blood on the two doorposts and the lintel of their homes, and eat its meat that night with matzah and bitter herbs. That night the Jewish people also circumcised themselves. It was only in the merit of these two mitzvot that the Jewish firstborn were spared. (To this day, all Jewish firstborn are obligated to fast on the day before Passover in acknowledgment that they too deserved to die in the plague of the firstborn.) In the words of the prophet, “I passed over you, and I saw you weltering in your blood (i.e., the blood of circumcision and the blood of the korban pesach), and I said to you: ‘By your blood you shall live!’”5 Our sages describe the Jews in Egypt as a people meritorious in faith but deficient in behavior. On the one hand, we are told that their faith in G‑d and His promise of redemption never wavered, even in the darkest moments of their ordeal; on the other hand, they had assumed the pagan practices of their enslavers.6 Thus, the first nine plagues, whose function was “in order that you know that I am G‑d,” had no cause to afflict the Jewish people, whose awareness of the divine truth was beyond reproach. But when the tenth plague came to punish and destroy the Egyptians for their sins, and to take out “a nation from the womb of a nation”—to extract the Jew from the society of which he was part, and forge him into a holy people—here, G‑d’s attribute of justice had cause to argue: “How are these any different from these? These are idol worshipers, and these are idol worshipers!” Thus, on the night of 15 Nissan, it was necessary to differentiate between Egyptian and Jew. G‑d had to pass over the homes of the Jews when the Egyptian firstborn were killed—indeed, it is this divine discrimination that gives Passover (Pesach, in the Hebrew) its name. To this end, G‑d clothed a nation bare and naked of virtues7 with mitzvot, in order to distinguish them from their neighbors. Two Visions of Midnight However, there is still much that requires clarification. If we were no less deserving of punishment, and no more deserving of redemption, than our enslavers—if the divine sense of justice dictated that “these are no different than these”—what moved G‑d to grant us the mitzvot to distinguish us from the Egyptians? And if, on the other hand, G‑d wished to redeem us despite all, why the need for these special mitzvot to protect us from the plague of the firstborn? Indeed, G‑d chose to redeem us not because we were any better than the Egyptians, but because of His intrinsic love for us. In the words of the prophet Malachi: “Is not Esau a brother to Jacob? . . . But I love Jacob.”8 Even when there is no cause to distinguish between Jacob and Esau, G‑d chooses Jacob. At the very onset of Moses’ mission to free the Jewish people, G‑d told him to communicate to Pharaoh that “Israel is My child, My firstborn.”9 I love him with a father’s unconditional love, G‑d is saying, a love that transcends considerations of virtue and deservedness. This, explain the Kabbalistic masters, is the reason why the Exodus took place at midnight. The first half of the night embodies the divine attribute of justice (din or gevurah), and its second half, the divine attribute of benevolence (chessed). Midnight is the juncture that fuses and supersedes them both, since the power to join two opposites can come only from a point that transcends their differences. Midnight is thus an expression of a divine involvement in creation that transcends all standard criteria for punishment or reward. “At midnight,” said G‑d to Moses, “I shall go out into the midst of Egypt.”10 As interpreted by the Sifri, this means, “I—and not an angel; I—and not a messenger.” At midnight I shall disregard all the attributes, norms, and processes I have established to define My governance of the world, and relate to you as I am and as I choose.11 At the same time, G‑d provided us with mitzvot with which to deserve our redemption. For a most basic feature of the covenant that G‑d desired to forge with us is that the deepest aspects of our relationship with Him should be manifested in our daily lives via the mitzvot of the Torah; that the most sublime spiritual truths be actualized by the means of physical deeds. So although G‑d superseded all standards of deservedness and undeservedness to redeem us, He granted us the means by which to deserve our redemption—the mitzvot of korban pesach and circumcision. [Indeed, both these mitzvot embody, on a human scale, the divine response they were designed to elicit. The offering of the korban pesach was an act that defied all conventions of logic and feasibility. The Jews were commanded to take a lamb—one of the deities of Egypt—and keep it bound in their homes for four days, slaughter it, sprinkle its blood on their doorposts and eat its flesh. Reason argued, “Can we slaughter the idol of Egypt before their eyes, and they won’t stone us?”12 But reason was set aside to do the will of G‑d. G‑d responded in kind, setting aside the norms of His justice and benevolence. Circumcision, the bodily sign of our covenant with G‑d, also emphasizes its supra-rational basis. The Jewish child is circumcised at the age of eight days, when he cannot possibly appreciate the significance of the deed or even be aware of it. Why don’t we wait until the age of intellectual maturity (as we do, for example, with the mitzvah of tefillin)? Again, this is a mitzvah given to us by the Almighty to access the reason- and rule-transcending essence of our relationship.] Halving the Night Hence the alternate interpretations offered by Rabbi Yishmael and Rabbi Yehudah as to the nature of the midnight of the Exodus. Rabbi Yishmael sees the Exodus as a supra-natural, supra-rational event. To him, midnight of 15 Nissan is no temporal landmark in time. To take the Jews out of Egypt, G‑d stopped the clocks of creation, splitting night, time and natural order apart to reveal the divine essence and will that underlies and transcends all. Rabbi Yehudah, on the other hand, focuses on the natural dimension to the Exodus. True, to pass over the homes of the Israelites as their Egyptian peers were destroyed, to extract a nation from a nation it all but resembled morally and spiritually, there had to be a divine choice that superseded the rules and standards that G‑d has built into creation. But is it not also true that this choice had to be accessed and actualized from within the terms of these rules and standards themselves? Is not the entire point of the Exodus, and of the revelation at Sinai to which it led, that man make himself a worthy vessel to the divine, and that our finite, physical world be developed as a receptacle to the infinite goodness and perfection of its Creator? To Rabbi Yehudah, midnight of 15 Nissan is a point in time—a point of entry for the all-transcending truth of G‑d, but an integral part of our conventional existence all the same. Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson; adapted by Yanki Tauber. Originally published in Week in Review. Republished with the permission of MeaningfulLife.com. If you wish to republish this article in a periodical, book, or website, please email permissions@meaningfullife.com. Artwork by Sefira Ross, a freelance designer and illustrator whose original creations grace many Chabad.org pages. Residing in Seattle, Washington, her days are spent between multitasking illustrations and being a mom. FOOTNOTES 1. Exodus 11:4 and 12:29. 2. Mechilta, Exodus 12:29. 3. Exodus 7:17, 8:17–18 and 9:14. 4. See Exodus 8:18–19, 9:6, 9:26 and 10:23. 5. Ezekiel 16:6. 6. See Exodus 4:31; Mechilta, Shemot 14:31; Zohar Chadash, beginning of Yitro; Yalkut Reuveni, Shemot 14:27; Zohar 2:170b. 7. Ezekiel 16:7 and Rashi ad loc. 8. Malachi 1:2. 9. Exodus 4:22. 10. Exodus 11:4. 11. Nevertheless, at the Exodus G‑d did insist on one condition in His choice of us—that we desire to be chosen. Those who did not wish to be taken out of Egypt to become G‑d’s people, were not redeemed. It was only at Sinai that G‑d’s truly unconditional choice of Israel took place: there we entered a covenant with Him which supersedes even the desire to be chosen. 12. Exodus 8:22. © Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.

Your Questions    Is Marijuana Kosher?     By Chabad.org Staff

Question: I recently read that a number of U.S. kosher certifying agencies are mulling putting their seal of approval on legal medical marijuana. Rabbi, marijuana is a plant. Since when does a plant need to be certified kosher? Response: Since you only asked whether it is kosher—and not whether marijuana should be legal—I will focus solely on that issue. And the answer really depends on how you define the word “kosher.” Narrow Definition Most narrowly defined, kosher means that it contains no ingredients that were from non-kosher animals, milk and meat, or other substances proscribed by Jewish law. Accordingly, if we would know that the product in question contains just leaves and that there was no unkosher residue on the processing equipment, it would not need certification, like plain unflavored tea. On the other hand, if it would be processed and contain other additives, as appears to be the case, kosher certification would be necessary. Regarding medically necessitated pills, many rule that they do not generally need to be kosher. “Pill medications that one swallows are permitted even if they contain non-kosher ingredients,” according to the cRc(Chicago Rabbinical Council). “Two exceptions to that rule are: (1) vitamins, which generally require certification; and (2) gel caps, hard or soft, which should only be taken by someone who is ill and does not have a kosher alternative.” Thus, even if the marijuana itself would be kosher, there would be concern that the capsules that contain it be kosher as well. Also, if the marijuana is not deemed medically necessary by halachah (Jewish law)—as may often be the case with medical marijuana—then like vitamins, you’d need to be sure that it is kosher before partaking. Now, the above issue applies only if the substance would be ingested. If smoked or injected, most kosher concerns would not apply. (Also note that on Passover, when Jews are forbidden to even own edible substances that are not kosher for Passover, there may be concern even for the smoked variety, if they contain more than pure leaves.) Wider Definition In a broader sense, “kosher” denotes something that is appropriate for the Jewish person. Until recently, marijuana was an illegal substance just about everywhere, and the use was unsupervised by doctors. There are halachic rulings on the subject, such as the following 1973 letter from Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, of righteous memory, regarding yeshivah students in Israel who wished to use hashish. In that brief responsum (Igrot Moshe, Yoreh De’ah 3:35), he ruled that drug use is forbidden for the following reasons: a. A Jew is obligated to maintain his good health—both physical and mental. Many drugs have very serious physiological, emotional and mental effects. b. He drew a parallel between this and the “rebellious son” of Deuteronomy 21:18. From there he infers that the Torah strongly objects to overindulgence and causing oneself to evoke new outlets for indulgence that were not previously present. c. Like the case of the “rebellious son,” taking illegal drugs is often the first step in a very precipitous decline. Drug dependents often turn to stealing and other nefarious means of feeding their habit. d. Many young people who take drugs are going against their parents’ wishes. Honoring and obeying our parents is biblically mandated. e. The Torah (Leviticus 19:2) requires us to sanctify ourselves. Nachmanides (ad loc.) explains this to mean that a person should not indulge excessively in bodily pleasures. Because of all these reasons and others, he ruled that using narcotics is forbidden. Obviously, none of these reasons would apply in a case where a patient takes these substances following the ruling of their doctor in a controlled and legal environment. On the other end of the spectrum, they would most certainly apply to youths using illegal drugs. For those in the middle, it would be advisable that the individual present his or her case to a competent rabbi before proceeding. Broadest Definition Even if we would conclude that narcotics are not forbidden, the question remains whether or not they are compatible with Jewish values and spirituality. In response to a 1977 query, the Lubavitcher Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—wrote that his opposition to marijuana use was “more and more so. The very question is startling.” Why was this? Perhaps the key is found in the following 1965 letter to a student in Cambridge, Mass., regarding LSD: . . . Biochemistry is not my field, and I cannot express an opinion on the drug you mention, especially as it is still new. However, what I can say is that the claim that the said drug can stimulate mystical insight, etc., is not the proper way to attain mystical inspiration, even if it had such a property. The Jewish way is to go from strength to strength, not by means of drugs and other artificial stimulants, which have a place only if they are necessary for the physical health, in accordance with the mitzvah to take care of one’s health. I hope that everyone will agree that before any drugs are taken one should first utilize all one’s natural capacities, and when this is done truly and fully, I do not think there will be a need to look for artificial stimulants . . . © Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.

Your Questions    Why Do We Smell Aromatic Spices (Besamim) at Havdalah?     By Yehuda Shurpin

The sages instituted that we smell fragrant spices (besamim) every motzaei Shabbat, the evening after Shabbat (unless Sunday is a holiday), in order to comfort the soul, which is saddened by the departure of the “extra soul” that it received on Shabbat.1 What exactly is this “extra soul”? On a basic level, this refers to the fact that on Shabbat a person is more disposed toward relaxation, joy, and celebrating the holy day with extra food and drink.2 According to the Zohar, however, this “extra soul” is not simply a state of mind or greater disposition toward relaxation, but in fact every person literally receives an extra soul on Shabbat. With the conclusion of Shabbat this extra soul departs, and the remaining soul mourns the loss of the extra soul.3 The Talmud tells us that the loss of the extra soul is hinted to in the verse “. . . on the seventh day He rested and was refreshed.”4 The word וַיִּנָּפַשׁ, “refreshed,” can be read as two words, וַי-נֶּפֶשׁ, yielding the meaning, “Once one has rested (i.e., at the conclusion of Shabbat), וי אבדה נפש—woe, the [additional] soul is gone!” Smell and the Forbidden Fruit Why, of all things, is fragrance used to ease the soul’s pain? One reason for this is that when Adam and Eve sinned with the Tree of Knowledge, they used all their senses except for smell to sin. The verse states: “the woman saw . . . and she took . . . and he ate . . . they heard . . .”5 Nowhere does it say that the sense of smell was used. Therefore, smell is the most refined of all the five senses, and is the one most enjoyed by the soul.6 Getting Rid of the Stench from Hell Although the loss of the extra soul is the main reason given for smelling the fragrance on motzaei Shabbat, there are other reasons given as well. At the onset of Shabbat, the fires of hell are extinguished, and the souls that are there get a bit of rest. At the conclusion of Shabbat the fires are reignited, and the soul can sometimes feel a weakness or depression come over it as it catches a whiff of the stench emanating from hell. We therefore smell the besamim to give the soul strength. Some explain that this reason really comes together with the loss of the extra soul, for the reason why the soul is more susceptible to depression is because it is already suffering a loss.7 Third Day of Man’s Creation Sunday is the third day after man’s creation (since man was created on Friday). Just as the third day after a circumcision is considered to be the most precarious and dangerous time for the person, so too Sunday is considered a time of weakness for the soul.8 To strengthen it, we smell the fragrant besamim.9 You may have noticed that you feel different after Shabbat leaves. Although we may not know or feel the real reason for this change, our souls do.10 Rabbi Yehuda Shurpin responds to questions for Chabad.org's Ask the Rabbi service. Artwork by Sefira Ross, a freelance designer and illustrator whose original creations grace many Chabad.org pages. Residing in Seattle, Washington, her days are spent between multitasking illustrations and being a mom. FOOTNOTES 1. See Tur and Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 297:1. 2. See Rashi on Talmud, Beitzah 16a and Taanit 27b, s.v. “Neshamah Yeteirah”; Responsa of Rashba 3:290; Abudraham, Seder Motzaei Shabbat. 3. Zohar 2:208b, 3:35b. 4. Exodus 31:17. 5. Genesis 3:6–8. 6. Bnei Yissaschar, Chodesh Adar 1. 7. See Bach, Orach Chaim, beginning of section 297. 8. See commentary of Rabbi Ovadiah of Bartenura on Mishnah, Taanit 4:3. 9. Rabbeinu Bechayei, Genesis 34:25. 10. See Aruch Hashulchan 297:1. © Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.

Essay    Travels with Chabad          By Thomas P. Balázs

Since last July, my wife and I and our 7-year-old son Judah have been traveling around the United States and Canada by RV as part of a sabbatical I’ve been granted from my job teaching creative writing at the University of Tennessee, Chattanooga. Over the past seven months we have visited, among other places, Mammoth Caves, Ky.; Indianapolis, Ind.; Detroit, Mich.; Niagara Falls, Ontario; Montreal, Quebec; Peggy’s Cove, Nova Scotia; Portland, Maine; Washington, D.C.; Williamsburg, Va.; and Cocoa Beach, Fla. We spend anywhere from a few days to several weeks in each place. We are now in the Florida Keys, and are exactly halfway through our 13-month journey. When we started this trip, one of my biggest concerns was what it would be like for Judah to be away from all his friends. I remember watching him play with his pals at our RV-warming/going-away party. I could see the pure joy in his face—and could feel the pure guilt at pulling him away from that for a year, which to a 7-year-old is like, well, a seventh of his life. I know it’s sometimes hard for Judah as an only child. Though he is often shy, he is basically an extrovert in the true sense of the term, meaning not that he is outgoing per se, but that he is most energized when he is around other people. I said to him the other day that sometimes grownups need alone time. “Not kids,” he said. “I don’t ever need alone time. I always want company.” Unfortunately, though, the only company he gets much of the time on this trip are the two middle-aged adults who both need their alone time, sometimes. We do our best to play with Judah, but we are parents, not peers, and I know he misses being around kids his own age. Which is one of the many reasons we are grateful to Chabad. For those of you who don’t know the term, Chabad—also known as Lubavitch—is a chassidic movement known for its extensive outreach to their fellow Jews. They emphasize and, for the most part, practice a nonjudgmental theology. Though they are stricter in some ways than what I might call “middle-of-the-road” Jews, they are more accepting of and welcoming than virtually any other group within Jewry. And, despite the fact that occasionally they may stop men on the street and ask, “Are you Jewish?” and, if they get a positive response, follow up with an offer to lay tefillin, their most effective forms of outreach are simply modeling an attractive brand of Judaism and maintaining an open-tent policy. Any Jew is welcome at a Chabad center at any time, regardless of one’s level of observance, and rather than try to convince other Jews to be Orthodox, they gain adherents and allies by showing how Judaism and all its practices can be a beautiful, meaningful alternative to secular life. And, if you’re not ready to rise to their level, that’s fine. They’ll accept you wherever you are, while at the same time maintaining their own high standards. We are, I suppose, “Chabadniks,” which means not that we are Orthodox, but that we feel more comfortable in a Chabad House than in any other place of worship. In general, I am more at ease in an Orthodox synagogue than a Reform or Conservative one because, among other reasons, “that’s how I was raised” when I began really exploring my Judaism 10 years ago. Since then I have become most comfortable with Chabad in particular because I don’t feel any need to pretend to be frummer (more religious) than I am around them. What does all this have to do with Judah? There is an old joke. How do you know there are no Jews on Mars? Because there’s no Chabad there. There are Chabad centers all over the country, all over the world, really. They are almost everywhere. So almost everywhere we go, we can count on there being a warm, welcoming Chabad center not too far away. And where there is Chabad, there are children. If the rabbi and his wife are under 40, they almost always have kids Judah’s age. If they are over 40, then they have grandchildren his age. Lubavitchers marry young, and they have lots of kids. Judah enjoys a light moment with Chabad Rabbi Zvi Konikov. So we know if we go to a Chabad service on Saturday, there’s a pretty strong chance that Judah will have who to play with, as they say. Is that a good reason to go to a place of worship? So that your boy can play with the rabbi’s kids? There could be worse reasons. Some people go just for the cholent (a bean-and-barley stew traditionally served at the after-service reception). But even that’s not such a bad reason, really. Years ago, when I worked for the office of student affairs at a small liberal-arts college in Illinois, I used free pizza to tempt students to participate in my programs, and no one was the worse off for it. Chabad offers a lot of things. Traditional services, insights into the Torah, homemade challah. But the two things I’ve most valued about Chabad on this trip are continuity and community. We move around a lot. That’s the whole point of the trip. But it would be a little maddening if we didn’t have the touchstone that Chabad offers us. I know, pretty much, what to expect when I walk into a Chabad synagogue on a Saturday morning. I suppose, to use a vulgar comparison, it’s like a religious franchise, so that whether I’m in Kentucky or Nova Scotia or Central Florida, I get a spiritual boost that is as familiar and reliable as the Big Macs I craved as a kid but no longer eat because, you know, milk and meat. But it’s more than that. We get community. No matter the fact that we’ve never darkened their doors before, when we step foot into a Chabad center, we are treated as returning members of the tribe, as cousins in an extended family. For me, who had virtually no extended family growing up, that’s a blessing. And it’s a blessing for Judah, who is separated from friends and family by thousands of miles. Sometimes we visit the local Chabad only once. Sometimes, as when we were staying outside Cocoa Beach on the Space Coast, we were there every week or more, depending on what sort of programs they have going. We joined the Chabad of Space & Treasure Coasts for two public menorah lightings and a 100-vehicle car-menorah parade. Our truck took its place in the car-menorah parade in Florida. It’s still hard for Judah. In our first month or so out, he would spend the entire Saturday playing with a new friend, the local rabbi’s son or daughter, and then when Shabbat was over, he’d say, “Goodbye, I guess I’ll never see you again.” But this last time at the Space Coast Chabad, he got to develop some more ongoing friendships, and one of them is planning to meet us at Disney World in a couple of weeks. It’s still no substitute for his real friends at home, which by the way prominently include the children of our Chattanooga Chabad family, the Perlsteins, but I think this trip would be much more difficult for Judah without Chabad. Sure, sometimes he meets kids at the playground, but much of the time there aren’t kids at our campgrounds because we’re traveling off-season, and even when there are kids there, he doesn’t connect to them as quickly or as easily as he does to the kids at Chabad with whom he already shares so much. The trip would also be more difficult for Merav and me without Chabad. We often struggle about our religious observance. We have an ongoing debate about whether we are confusing Judah with our inconsistencies. But if we’re confused, it’s refreshing to be among people who aren’t. If we were Lubavitchers ourselves, things would be a lot different. But we don’t have that kind of faith. We do what we can. We are Chabadniks, not Chabad. They seem okay with that, and Judah seems okay with that for now, at least. We have now been to more than half a dozen Chabad centers around the country, and expect to visit many more. We like to joke that we are going to start a website, “RateMyChabad.com.” You know, Chabad of —— gets four stars for its kiddush reception, but loses points for not having a playground. Chabad of —— gets a top rating for its catered buffet lunch, but is marked down for overt fundraising. This Chabad’s rabbi is charismatic, that one not so much . . . But Chabad doesn’t judge us, and we try not to judge them. We’re just grateful that when we arrive at a new place—no matter how foreign it may seem—if there’s a Chabad there, it never feels like Mars. Thomas P. Balázs is the author of the short-story collection Omicron Ceti III (Aqueous Books, 2012). He teaches creative writing and literature at the University of Tennessee, Chattanooga. © Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.

Essay    Are You Cool or Quiet? That Depends!     By Yonason Beitz

I am a rabbi with a master of arts degree in special education. People in my community of Beitar Illit, Israel, tell me that I inspire them with my joie de vivre. I am very thankful for that, but it took a lot of hard work and determination. I was born with cerebral palsy. This is my story. I look back at my teenage years as the most awkward and embarrassing of my life. Because I have cerebral palsy, I have a lot of involuntary movement of my hands and neck. I also wear hearing aids because I am 80 percent deaf. I vividly recall standing around awkwardly at parties, looking for someone to talk to. In my teenage mind, there were only two categories of people: the “cool” ones and the “quiet” ones. I tried so hard to be cool that I ended up being quiet. I decided to approach those I also deemed “quiet” and make conversation with them. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. When it didn’t, it was even more embarrassing and awkward. But when it succeeded . . . ahhh . . . those people became lifelong friends. I know what it means to be included, and I know what it means to be excluded. I was always trying to figure out how I could be just like everybody else, when in fact I was not like anyone else. Now, 40 years later, the definitions of “cool” and “quiet” are not the same as they were when I was 15. I no longer see myself as a quiet person, because I know that I can also be loud and jovial. I know that people around me accept me. The term “cool” has also changed for me. It now means being myself—being “me” with complete confidence. This realization didn’t come overnight; it took 40 long years. Forty years of hard knocks, 40 years of ups and downs. In 1976, when I began to study in the Chabad yeshivah in Morristown, N.J., I was already religious and chassidic. But I still had my old “tapes” running in my head. They stopped playing only when I became fully immersed in the chassidic emphasis on learning and character refinement. When I began to think and care about others in a soulful way, my own thinking was transformed. I no longer spent hours feeling self-pity, which led me to become more sensitive and caring. There is a great custom in the yeshivah for the older students to take the younger ones under their wings. Together, they learn classic chassidic works and/or talk about the challenges of the day. Mentoring a younger student gave me the self-confidence and self-respect that I so badly needed, but didn’t know how to obtain. This is called inclusion! The Rebbe taught that every neshamah comes down to this world for a specific divine mission. I finally realized that G‑d Almighty, in His infinite wisdom, created me the way I am for one reason and one reason only: because only I am uniquely qualified for the mission that He has entrusted me with. Whatever that mission is. I am now a teacher of chassidus, a husband, father and grandfather. I learn and teach in the Beitar Illit Kollel, and am fully active in the community. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Rabbi Yonason Beitz lives in Beitar Illit, Israel, and holds a master’s degree in special education. He is a contributing writer for the Ruderman-Chabad Inclusion Initiative (RCII). The Ruderman-Chabad Inclusion Initiative (RCII) is dedicated to building on the philosophy and mission of Chabad-Lubavitch by providing Chabad communities around the globe the education and resources they need to advance inclusion of people with disabilities. RCII engages Chabad’s network of human and educational resources to create a Culture of Inclusion so that all Jews feel welcomed, supported and valued throughout their entire lifecycle. Artwork by Sefira Ross, a freelance designer and illustrator whose original creations grace many Chabad.org pages. Residing in Seattle, Washington, her days are spent between multitasking illustrations and being a mom. © Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.

VIDEO

Our Irrational Response to Anti-Semitism
Slaughtering the lamb in Egypt teaches us that there are no logical solutions to counter the darkest forces. G-d acts above reason when we do. by Chony Milecki and Benny Friedman
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How to Stretch Your Time to the Max
A quick sermon on the sanctity of time by Yacov Barber
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Women    How a Famous Actress Led to a Family Revelation     By Lieba Rudolph

The woman was sitting on the curb outside the car wash, talking on her cell phone. I couldn’t see her clearly, but my daughter Elkie knew exactly who she was. “Maya?” I asked as I approached her. “One second,” she said to the person on the phone. She looked up at me, slightly annoyed by the interruption. “I’m Lieba Rudolph, Billy’s wife,” I announced with a smile. (I call my husband by his Hebrew name, Zev, but many people call him by his English name, Billy.) "I gotta go. I just met someone from my family!” I was relieved to hear the excitement in her voice. “I’m Billy’s wife”The woman sitting on the curb was indeed the actress Maya Rudolph. Maya’s father is my husband’s first cousin. Their fathers were brothers who grew up together in Pittsburgh. With Maya’s identity confirmed, Elkie and her daughter Leah approached, trailed by my daughter Rivky. Of course, none of us could believe the amazing “coincidence” of our meeting. I mean, what’s the likelihood that I would arrive in Los Angeles on that exact day in 2013, then go with my daughter to that specific car wash to get her car cleaned for Pesach at exactly the time when Maya was there!? (To my knowledge, Maya wasn’t cleaning her car for Pesach, which makes it even more unlikely she would be there at that moment.) And what is the likelihood we would all be at the car wash exactly when, back in Pittsburgh, much of the extended Rudolph family was gathered for the funeral of one of the two original Rudolph sisters? But our connection with Maya through hashgacha pratit (Divine providence) didn’t end there. A successful actress and comedienne (and daughter of the late singer Minnie Riperton), Maya was recently selected to be profiled on the PBS series “Finding Your Roots.” I had never heard of the show before Maya’s involvement, but I understand that it traces the family histories of famous people. One thing is for sure: “Finding Your Roots” doesn’t skimp on its research efforts. My husband, Zev, had numerous conversations with their researchers; he couldn’t believe their excitement over learning where and when some unknown great-great-aunt went to high school. Then, one Friday afternoon last summer, Zev received a stream of emails from the show’s researchers. After months of exploring the Rudolph family, they sent us copies of immigration records, wedding announcements, death certificates—everything they found. Topping it all off was an extensive Rudolph family tree. Up until that point, the Rudolph family tree went as far back as my husband’s grandfather, Julius Rudashevsky. He had been “the patriarch” who came to America as a stowaway at age 11. Julius never spoke about the family he left behind in Vilna, to the extent that nobody even knew his parents’ names. That is, until we got those emails. When my husband and I first saw Julius’s father’s name, we were stunned. We knew that parents have ruach hakodesh (Divine inspiration) when naming their children, but it looks like G‑d wanted to show us proof. When our second son was born, we were still giving our children two names—English and Hebrew. We liked the name Julius for his English name, and appreciated that we were also naming him for his great-grandfather. But we couldn’t use Julius’s corresponding Hebrew name, Yehuda Avraham, because our older son was already Mordechai Yehuda, and my father, who was still living at the time, was Avraham. We liked Dovid as a middle name, and it was my husband’s maternal grandfather’s name. We wanted a Hebrew first name to go with it, something close to “Julius.” We consulted our rabbi and agreed that Yisroel would be appropriate. And that’s how our second son was named Yisroel Dovid. We would have continued thinking Yisroel Dovid was an original name if not for Maya’s profile on “Finding Your Roots.” The show’s researchers discovered that the name of Julius Rudolph’s father was Yisroel DovidRudashevsky.Not every encounter is life-changing Unbeknownst to us, Yisroel Dovid was already a Rudolph family name, a name that now continues through our son, Julius Rudolph. As a Jew, I strive for a life where G‑d’s presence is experienced through hashgacha pratit, where I recognize His involvement in everything. Not every encounter or event is meant to be life-changing, but none is accidental either. And some events, like this one, are unusual enough to be seen as a clear sign of His presence, a revelation which, ideally, strengthens my ability to recognize Him even more, even at times when His presence might not be so obvious. I know that there is always much more going on than I know. However, I am grateful when I get a peek “behind the scenes.” If a family tree falls in my email forest, it’s because I am meant to hear it. And, more importantly, to recognize where it really came from. Lieba Rudolph lives in Pittsburgh, PA, and writes a weekly blog about Jewish spirituality. Artwork by Sefira Ross, a freelance designer and illustrator whose original creations grace many Chabad.org pages. Residing in Seattle, Washington, her days are spent between multitasking illustrations and being a mom. © Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.

Women    The Moment I Recognized My Life’s Purpose     by Yetta Krinsky

I grew up lost and confused. Through no fault of my loving parents, life dealt me an early blow, which swiftly headed off any sense of meaning or purpose that might have naturally evolved. It took many years, 38 to be precise, before the process (and my entire worldview) was totally rebooted in a way I would never have expected—all in the space of just a few moments. The Baal Shem Tov, founder of the I grew up lost and confusedchassidic movement, taught that everything we see and hear has a particular message for us about our unique mission and how we should be in the world. In a way, I knew this many years before I had the privilege to explore my Jewish heritage. Let me take you back 20 years or so. I was 38, a psychiatrist working with indigenous people who had suffered major cultural, communal and individual traumas, and with women who had been sexually abused as children (as I myself had been at the age of 3). I saw people healing from things I would have thought it impossible to heal from. I knew that this was coming from something deep within them, not anything I had learned in my training. That if they were safe in their outside lives and in therapy with me, there was a central organizing process happening, an inner drive to heal, make sense of things, find meaning and move on. Just as when we get a cut we do not have to think about every step of the clotting process which stops the bleeding, and about the proliferation of connective tissue that heals the wound, so too I found a healing process taking place in the inner worlds of my patients. I had found Victor Frankl’s book Man’s Search for Meaning in an outdoor bargain bin at a secondhand shop, and began to ask some deep questions, but I had not yet found any answers that spoke to me about the mystery I had happened upon. All of this changed one lunchtime with a fleeting visit to the newly established Baby Memorial at the old West Terrace Cemetery in Adelaide, South Australia. A number of women who had lost babies at birth over the past 50 years had been referred to me for grief counseling. It had recently been exposed in the media that that their babies had been buried in unmarked graves across a grassy area in the old cemetery, and the women had banded together to approach the government for some kind of memorial to allow them to grieve. Since I was encouraging these women to visit the newly designed memorial, I felt I had better go and take a look myself. One lunchtime, on the way from my private rooms to the Indigenous Health Service, sandwich in hand, I stopped in at the cemetery for a 20-minute visit. The memorial itself was very beautiful and comprised a walled-in, womb-like area for women to sit privately and grieve, and then a large flat area shaped like a pond, on which there were more than 500 copper plates shaped like lily pads. Each one was engraved with the name of the stillborn baby; the day, month and year the baby died; and the name of the hospital. The pond was oval-shaped, with no beginning or end. I stopped randomly in the middle to look at one leaf, a baby girl born on July 2, 1956, at Memorial Hospital. A baby girl born the same day I was, at the same hospital! I What happened that day?feel to this day the reverberation of the tremor that passed through me at that moment. What happened that day? I was given a life, that baby wasn’t. I must be here for a reason! This was my first lesson in chassidic thought, long before I had a chance to explore my Jewish heritage and begin to learn Tanya. Later I learned, and now I teach others, that our body and soul come in a perfect match, chosen by our Creator. That no soul in a body that ever was or ever will be has the particular mission of our soul in our body. We each have our own unique, irreplaceable part in the healing of the world. Artwork by Sefira Ross, a freelance designer and illustrator whose original creations grace many Chabad.org pages. Residing in Seattle, Washington, her days are spent between multitasking illustrations and being a mom. © Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.

Story    The Miraculous Downfall of Ivan the Evil     By Miriam Nevel

In the early 1900s, Zeide Eliezer and Bubbe Rochel Leah Paltiel lived with their five children in a village in Belarus called Zhudilovo, which was under the rule of the Russian czar. The nearby forest was the source of their livelihood, as Zeide Eliezer was a logger. He rented land from the Russian owner, and he and his sons felled trees and floated the logs down the Dnieper River in long barges to the big cities, where they would be used by builders. My father, Berel, remembers his oldest brother, Yaakov, sometimes sitting him on the saddle of his horse and giving him rides between the woods and home. Thus, the sound of the saw, the smell of freshly cut wood, and the tall trees of the forest were as natural to little Berel as the sights, sounds, and smells of his own home. Since Eliezer and his older sons were in the business of cutting trees, and wood was plentifully available to them, they decided to build an addition to their small home. At that time, Yaakov was studying at theyeshivah of the Rebbe Rashab, Rabbi Shalom Dov Ber of Lubavitch, so Zeide Eliezer sent a message to Yaakov to ask the Rebbe for a blessing to build the addition. Yaakov relayed the Rebbe’s answer to his father: Building two additional rooms to his home would be a blessed endeavor, and he should proceed with his plan. The head of the Duma (village governing council) in my grandparents’ village was a wicked man named Ivan Stepanovich. Like the evil Haman, he was always on the lookout for some excuse to harm the Jews, particularly to pin some crime on Zeide Eliezer, whom he considered a “rich Jew.”Should he stop building altogether? The truth is, besides the little house in which he and his family lived, Zeide had almost no material possessions, so why did Stepanovich resent him? Perhaps because when Stepanovich passed by their small home on a Friday night, he heard the family singing; whenever he entered Zeide’s home, he saw the family sitting at their festive meal as though they were princes and princesses. In short, the little wooden house was filled with learning and love and joy—the kind of love and joy that no money can buy. Rochel Leah Paltiel, grandmother of the author When Stepanovich noticed that Eliezer and his sons were building an addition to their house, he devised a plan to endanger them, and perhaps even incite a pogrom! As head of the village governing council, Stepanovich decided to create a new law in the village. Going forward, whoever built a new house, or remodeled his existing house in any way, needed to apply for a permit to do the work. Not surprisingly, the permit was to be granted by none other than “His Excellency,” the village Duma head himself. The new rule was voted on and passed by the village elders, so that now altering one’s home without a permit was considered a crime. An official letter was delivered to Eliezer Paltiel from the village of Zhudilovo, ordering him to stop building immediately and to appear in court in the city of Pochep on an appointed day, as he was charged with breaking the new permit law. Zeide Eliezer dispatched an urgent message to the Rebbe asking how he should proceed, because it was clear to him that the permit issue could turn into a very dangerous situation for his family, as well as for other Jews in the surrounding district. Should he stop building altogether? How should he handle the court date? Zeide Eliezer beseeched the Rebbe Rashab for his advice and blessing. The answer they received astounded the family. The Rebbe simply told Zeide Eliezer and his sons to continue building without fear, as G‑d’s blessing was with them. In the meantime, Ivan Stepanovich prepared his case against Zeide Eliezer. Eliezer Paltiel, grandfather of the author Time seems to have a tendency to fly when you want it to go slowly, and, indeed, Zeide Eliezer’s court date approached rather quickly. On the day before the trial, Stepanovich came to Zeide Eliezer’s house, a large sheaf of papers in his hand. “I am in possession of a list of all your crimes, Jew Paltiel,” he said, waving the stack of papers in Zeide’s face. Then he thrust his package under his arm, puffed out his chest, put his hands on his hips, and stood waiting for Zeide’s reaction. Zeide Eliezer stood motionless for a moment, facing Stepanovich and considering what to reply to his accuser. It was clear to Zeide that this enemy of the Jews had a pogrom in mind and would not be satisfied to simply forbid the addition of two rooms to a little wooden house. Then he replied calmly, “I hope His Excellency knows that the work my sons and I are doing in our house was started before the law was enacted. The law shouldn’t apply to renovations that were begun before there was a law. Should men be held responsible for committing crimes that were not crimes when they were done, and only later became illegal?” Dovber (Berel) Paltiel, father of the author While Zeide talked, Ivan Stepanovich’s face turned pink, then red, then deep crimson. His pulled himself up to his full five feet, and with his arms bent, hands grasping his waist, he looked as though he were about to dance a kazatzka. “Your end is near, Jew Paltiel!” His Excellency screeched. “I know your Talmud teaches you how to argue, but no argument will help you this time. You will pay! And not only a fine,” he wagged his finger ominously at Zeide. “You will lose your house and your business, too.” He waved the sheaf of papers tauntingly under Zeide Eliezer’s nose. Bubbe Rochel Leah was standing in the kitchen peeling potatoes for soup, listening to the exchange between her husband and the village head, while tears streamed down her face, half-covered by the kerchief that sat low on her forehead. Her little son Berel, who was then two years old, was holding on to his mother’s skirt, his eyes raised to her tear-stained face. He didn’t understand why she was crying, nor did he understand his father’s conversation with the man wearing brass buttons on his long fancy coat, whose whiskers pointed to both sides of the village. Berel’s sister, 11-year-old Manya, had gone with her friends to the train station to watch the trains come and go. Trains were a new phenomenon then, and therefore an interesting spectacle to all the area’s children. With the roar of its engine, its wheels screeching against iron rails, the Pochep-bound train pulled into the station. Ivan Stepanovich stood on the platform, looking forward to Eliezer Paltiel’s trial the next day. This time, he felt certain he would be rid of the rich Jew once and for all. Afterward, the Jew’s guilt could easily be used to incite a pogrom that would begin first in his village and then spread to the surrounding villages. Rabbi Yaakov Paltiel, uncle of the author Wanting to appear above others, His Excellency did not board the train when the less important passengers did. After the conductor called out, “All aboard, all aboard,” Stepanovich stood chatting with the stationmaster. Only when the train began to move, slowly at first, did he jump on the bottom step, expecting to take the successive steps and land neatly in the moving car. But his long coat with the brass buttons got caught in a spoke of an iron wheel that was rolling faster and faster on its rail. Manya ran home out of breath, not knowing if she should feel sad that a fatal accident had occurred, or be glad that this man—this Haman, who, she knew, wanted to harm her father and all the area’s Jews—had been dragged by a moving wheel to his death under the train. She sprinted into the house screaming as loudly as she could, “Er iz mer nit doh, er iz mer nit doh!” (“He is no more, he is no more!”) At Ivan Stepanovich’s funeral, his wife walked behind her husband’s coffin, wringing her hands and wailing, “I told you not to start up with the Jews. I told you to leave the Jew alone. You know their G‑d is powerful. You fool! You fool! You fool!”"You fool! You fool!" The new village head did not follow Stepanovich’s example. He was an honest man who conducted himself with proper decorum and common sense, and he never bothered Zeide Eliezer. It was obvious to him that his predecessor had created a new law and then brought charges against Zeide Eliezer for no other reason than his eagerness to harm a Jew. So with the Rebbe’s blessing, Zeide Eliezer and his sons added two rooms to their home, and the evil plot of Stepanovich was foiled. This true story was told to me by my father, Reb Berel Paltiel, the youngest son of Reb Eliezer and Rochel Leah Paltiel. Miriam Nevel is a blend. She navigates between now and then. This story first published in At Home With Inyan - Hamodia's Weekly Magazine on October 21, 2015. Reprinted with permission. Artwork by Sefira Ross, a freelance designer and illustrator whose original creations grace many Chabad.org pages. Residing in Seattle, Washington, her days are spent between multitasking illustrations and being a mom. © Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.

The Kosher Interviews    An Interview with the Women Who Spearhead the Central Kosher Campaign          By Menachem Posner

A skilled volunteer purges kitchen implements with applied heat in the process of koshering a kitchen. Second in a series of articles on the 40th anniversary year of the worldwide kosher campaign launched by the Rebbe in 1975. In the summer of 1975, the Lubavitcher Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—called for a new mitzvah campaign: to encourage Jewish people to kosher their kitchens and consume kosher food. At the time, Chassidim immediately mobilized for the effort. The Rebbe quoted the teaching in Tanya that a person is affected by the food he or she eats, on both physical and spiritual levels. The Rebbe went on to explain that consuming nonkosher food can cloud the natural purity and innocence that a person is born with, allowing a person to potentially adopt views that are in opposition to Torah. At the launch of the campaign—officially termed “the campaign for kosher food and drink”—the Rebbe announced that a special fund would be set up by his office to offset up to 50 percent of the expenses incurred by anyone converting their kitchen to a kosher one (capped at a $200 rebate, then enough to cover half of an average kitchen changeover). Chassidim and Jewish activists immediately sprang into action, printing brochures, arranging educational lectures, organizing kosher-meal plans in colleges and koshering kitchens in homes all over the world. Under the auspices of the Lubavitch Women’s Organization (Nshei Chabad), the Lubavitch Women’s Kosher Committee was formed to coordinate the operation in the New York area and beyond. Originally spearheaded by Mrs. Yehudis Groner and Mrs. Chashie Lev, the organization became the responsibility of Mrs. Laya Klein and Mrs. Shterna Zirkind in the early 1980s. The women reflect on the campaign—now well into its 40th year—its impact, and how it has matured over the decades. Q: Can you share a bit about your organization? Where are you located, and what type of infrastructure is there? Mrs. Klein: What infrastructure? What office? Everything has been running out of our kitchens! Mrs. Zirkind: Mrs. Klein stores the literature and supplies in her basement, and everything else happens over the phone. We have always been a volunteer-based organization running almost entirely on donations. Q: What’s the process when a person calls and asks for their kitchen to be koshered? The clothes iron has replaced the red-hot rock as the item of choice to reheat boiling water poured on countertops. Mrs. Zirkind: First of all, we send over a volunteer to meet the them and guide them in the practical aspects of keeping kosher, helping them with the logistics of shopping for kosher food, keeping two sets of dishes and keeping everything kosher in the long run. After they have been practicing for a while, we send over another team of volunteers to actually kosher the kitchen. Originally, they were ladies as well. But at a certain point, we had some very dedicated young men take over that part since it really entails a lot of physical exertion. Despite the schlepping, they went cheerfully and devotedly. Periodically, we held training sessions for the men, teaching them the halachic and logistical aspects of koshering a kitchen. Many of them went on to become Chabad rabbis all over the world, and they came back to thank us for the skills that they still use on a regular basis. In time, Rabbi Nisan Dovid Dubov and Rabbi Levi Garelik put together a guidebook on koshering, and we distribute those to anyone looking to learn how to kosher a kitchen. Of course, we offered everyone a rebate for half of their expenses as per the Rebbe’s directive. Many people took advantage of that, though many were also happy to refuse it, gladly shouldering the expense that this mitzvah entails. All rebates were issued from the Rebbe’s office through Machne Israel [the social-service arm of Chabad-Lubavitch]. Over the years, the operation has changed. These days, when a person calls, we try to connect them to their closest Chabad Center and see if the local rabbi can do the koshering for them. That way, they can develop a long-term connection, which is always the best. Before the advent of self-cleaning ovens, much of the koshering process was done via blow torch. Q: Other than koshering kitchens, what other services do you provide? Mrs. Klein: We have many brochures and educational materials that we distribute to Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries (shluchim) all over the world, as well as directly to people interested in learning about kosher. About 20 years ago, Jerry Levine produced a video called “G‑d’s Diet,” which was cutting-edge at the time. Shluchim would use it to start educational seminars on keeping kosher. One of our early projects still going on is “Kosher Week,” where we set up a stand in supermarkets, stocked with information on kosher. Directed by Mrs. Tzippy Simpson and Mrs. Goldy Gansburg, a big part of it is to show people just how easy it is to shop for kosher food; it’s so readily available. We often schedule them around Jewish holidays, so that the volunteers staffing the booth also spread awareness about them as well. Mrs. Zirkind: Another one of our early activities was regular educational seminars for women who were getting married and setting up their kosher kitchen for the first time. In fact, I was first involved as an organizer for these classes, given by community rabbis. Today, this is also done by many other organizations. Another thing we did was distribute pushkes (charity boxes) that people could affix to their kitchen walls. It was something the Rebbe requested in a talk to women, and we distributed many of them specially designed to be fastened to the kitchen walls, making the very home a place of sanctity and giving. In fact, the Rebbe even said that the pushke’s presence would enhance the kosher status of the food, so it was extra-special for us to get them out there. Volunteers carefully lower each utensil into specially prepared cauldrons of boiling water. Q: What was the Rebbe’s involvement in your activities? Mrs. Klein: Everything we were doing was the result of the Rebbe’s request. Whenever we had a new project or publication, we would inform the Rebbe. He would respond with blessings and sometimes even symbolic monetary participation. Mrs. Zirkind: Whenever we took out ads or published articles, we would show them to the Rebbe. I recall one particular time when we showed the Rebbe an ad we were taking out in a Jewish paper, and the Rebbe pointed out that we had neglected to place the Hebrew letters bais samach dalet [an acronym for Aramaic words recognizing G‑d’s constant assistance] on the top. Since then, I’ve been very careful about it. Working from home, Klein and Zirkind published numerous pamphlets and videos on the spiritual and material aspects to kosher living. Q: What type of effect did you see the experience having on the people for whom you’ve koshered their kitchens? Mrs. Klein: Often, they would forge a connection with the women who guided them along. I remember one time that a woman came to us years after we koshered her kitchen, telling us that her child was getting married and requesting that we kosher her in-laws’ kitchen as well. She’d kept in touch all along. So you never know where the connection may lead. Mrs. Zirkind: Going kosher is often a major stepping stone on people’s path to embracing Jewish observance. First of all, eating kosher helps their souls become more sensitive to Jewish concepts and that makes a big difference; they become open to so much more. On a practical level, it is a major statement and commitment. When you keep kosher, Shabbat and holiday observance is a natural follow-up. The first article in the series, “How One Purple Book Revolutionized Kosher Cooking,” can be read here. As part of their ongoing education campaign, demonstrations were held teaching people the proper procedure for coating and soaking chicken and meat with salt, ensuring that all blood is removed. A blow torch is the tool of trade for koshering kitchens. Livers, which contain significant desposits of blood, are koshered by being cut and roasted over an open flame. With glossy, full-color pages, the material produced by the women proved avant-garde, as well as informative. Over the course of decades, the pamphlets from Klein's basement served to bring kosher awareness to thousands of people all over the world. © Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.

The Kosher Interviews    An Interview with a Kosher Rabbi          By Menachem Posner

Rabbi Uri Gelman has koshered thousands of private and commercial kitchens throughout the Greater Toronto area. Next in a series of articles on the 40th anniversary of the worldwide kosher campaign launched by the Rebbe in 1975. With his flowing gray beard and carefully chosen words, Rabbi Uri Gelman seems like a typical rabbi. But instead of a Talmud or other Torah book, he is most often seen plying a blow torch, oversized pots and hot rocks. As the founder of Kosher Way Canada—a not-for-profit charitable organization dedicated to assisting those new to kosher dietary observance—Rabbi Gelman has koshered thousands of private and commercial kitchens throughout the greater Toronto area. He shares what it’s like to go about his work. Q: Can you explain exactly what you do? A: We respond to calls from people referred to us by Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries and other rabbis who need guidance and practical help in koshering their homes. The first step is to gauge where they are holding in the process of going kosher. For people who have never had a kosher kitchen before, we first help them divide the kitchen into two sections, so they may practice separating milk and meat for a few days or weeks. Then, once the entire family is comfortable with the arrangement, we go in and kosher the home. The basic principle is that the food residue and flavor is expunged in the same way it originally arrived. So for a cooking pot, the unkosher is boiled out. Something that was used with dry heat must be koshered by applied dry heat. Aside being purged from unkosher residue, the utensils also need to be immersed in a mikvah. That is not something I generally do anymore, but I am able to refer people to some very reliable individuals or I tell them how they can do it themselves. Q: What kind of people do you typically find going kosher? A: Many people choose to go kosher before or after a specific life change. On one end of the spectrum, you have a single person who decides to have a Jewish home. He or she is doing it now to be in position to meet and build a home with a likeminded individual. The basic principle is that the food residue and flavor is expunged in the same way it originally arrived. So for a cooking pot, the unkosher is boiled out. Something that was used with dry heat must be koshered by applied dry heat. Then there are married couples who are having children and want their raise their family in a full Jewish life. Another common time to go kosher is when families are preparing to send their kids to a Jewish school. I recently koshered a kitchen for a woman who just returned from a trip to the Ohel in Queens, N.Y. (the resting place of the Lubavitcher Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—and his father-in-law, the Previous Rebbe—Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, of righteous memory). Before she went in, the rabbi leading the group she was with encouraged every person to add in mitzvah observance. This was her mitzvah. Then, of course, we get calls from people who have been keeping kosher for their entire lives and are now moving to a new home or want some help getting ready for Passover. Q: How long does it generally take to kosher a home kitchen? A: A full kitchen can take as many as three hours. If there are many utensils or more complex appliances, it can take longer. I try to keep it to one session to make things as simple as possible for people. Q: What tools do you use? A: For the most part, I use the same things Jews use all over the world. I have a wide pot that sits on two burners and uses maximum heat. I also have a blow torch that I use to kosher certain utensils that cannot be placed in self-cleaning ovens. I use thick rubber gloves, tongs, an iron and other accessors that you can get any store, like Walmart. And, of course, I have rocks that I heat up and use to apply boiling water to countertops. When people see the rocks heating up on their stove burners, they sometimes tell me that the sight is familiar; they remember it from watching their grandparents koshering their kitchens for Passover. These are some of the same tools that anyone has, but I just have it all organized and down to a system. "A full kitchen can take as many as three hours. If there are many utensils or more complex appliances, it can take longer. I try to keep it to one session to make things as simple as possible." Q: How has technology changed the koshering process? A: There are new things that come up all the time. For example, one question that I am still looking to solve is induction cooking, whereby magnetics are used to create heat in the pot. There is no heat on the stove top per se, so I am not sure how the stove top is to be koshered. There are questions that crop up all the time, and in the future, there may be more questions. Q: What happens if you ruin something? A: People are very understanding. Before I begin, I make it clear that things can break, and people respect that. I joke that I charge a dollar for every glass I break. You know, glass breaks from quickly changing temperature. If part of the glass is hot and the other part is cold, it can crack, so we need to be careful. Q: Is china kosherable? A: Earthenware is a problem since the Torah views it as something from which flavor cannot be fully extracted. It’s beyond the scope of this interview, but there are certain solutions available with varying degrees of risk of breakage, which we are very upfront about. Q: How did you get involved in this line of service? I was born in Russia but raised in New York. I became inspired to re-engage in Judaism and completed myrabbinical studies at the Central Lubavitcher Yeshiva in Brooklyn in 1993. I came to Toronto to work with the Russian-Jewish community. Rabbi Mendel Shubov was then koshering kitchens for people and looking for someone to take it over. Over the past six years, we opened a website, streamlined the process and grew into our current organizational structure. Gelman gives classes that makes kashering a kitchen entertaining and interesting, even for kids. Q: How far have you traveled to kosher kitchens? A: We’ve done summer camps that are two hours out of Toronto, but for the most part, there are more than enough kitchens that need koshering right here. Q: Any final thoughts to share? A: The commitment to go kosher is possibly the biggest Jewish commitment a person can make, right up there with keeping Shabbat. It’s awe-inspiring to see people gladly opening up their lives and embracing kosher. It’s an honor to be a part of that process. A hands-on demonstration for future home-makers in Canada. Other articles in the series: First Kosher Kitchen an Entranceway to a More Spiritual Life Keeping Kosher at the Last Stop Before the South Pole Q&A: 40 Years Later, Leaders Savor the Details of Kosher Campaign’s History How One Purple Book Revolutionized Kosher Cooking © Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.

The Kosher Interviews    An Interview with a Couple Who Took the Plunge          By Karen Schwartz

Malkah Esther (Michelle) Glass in the kosher kitchen of her new home in Toronto, which she shares with her husband, Calev (Eric) Taylor. Next in a series of articles on the 40th anniversary of the worldwide kosher campaign launched by the Rebbe in 1975. Calev (Eric) Taylor, 39, and Malkah Esther (Michelle) Glass, 32, remember when Rabbi Uri Gelman showed up at the front door toting a blow torch, giant tongs, a large metal pot and industrial-strength gloves. He boiled their kitchenware, ironed their counters and advised them on how to make sure everything was just as it should be. He was there to make their kitchen kosher. “He was kashering the kitchen, and I didn’t have to worry about it,” says Taylor. “It was very reassuring in a lot of ways to see someone show up with all that gear—it’s like, ‘We’re going to get this done, and we’re going to get this done right.’ ” The couple started keeping kosher when they were living in Downtown Toronto in a 700-square-foot loft. They were driving up to two hours roundtrip to Toronto’s northern suburbs to learn with Rabbi Mendel Kaplan, executive director of Chabad Flamingo in Thornhill, Ontario. They had their first kashered kitchen in that apartment, and later, in a townhouse they moved to in 2010. That one was kashered by Gelman, the founder of Kosher Way Canada, while Taylor was going through a learning process at Chabad Flamingo that ultimately led to his decision to convert. They again had their kitchen done in 2012, just after his conversion. Glass grew up with some knowledge of kashrut. Her family had two sets of dishes and ate kosher meat at home. But it wasn’t until she got involved with Chabad that she started delving deeper into the details. When Taylor decided he wanted to convert, Glass started studying Torah and attending Rabbi Kaplan’s classes with him. Rabbi Uri Gelman, the founder of Kosher Way Canada, has kashered several kitchens for the couple, including the one in their new home. Kaplan—who leads one of 72 active Chabad centers in Canada, continues the Jewish outreach work started by the Lubavitcher Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—in connecting Jews of all background and in all places with their shared heritage. This year marks 40 years since the Rebbe launched the worldwide kosher campaign in an effort to create awareness and promote observance of kosher dietary laws. “When you keep kosher, it changes your life in meaningful ways,” explains Taylor. “It places you within a community and makes you connected to the people in the community. It changes how you view your daily routine, and where you go and where you don’t go. It’s not just about the food—it’s about the location, it’s about the utensils you use, and ultimately, it puts you in a holier mindset and sphere.” Adding International Flavor Meanwhile, the couple—who before having kept kosher tried foods from around the world—now seeks out all different kinds of recipes, international and traditional, to make at home. When people come over to the house they now own, says Glass, she wants them to see that kosher food can be exciting and have a global flair. She especially enjoys making Thai dishes, she says, and has found substitutes that allow her to recreate the tastes in her own kitchen. “I cook Indian, Chinese—all different kinds of foods. You don’t have to feel like you’re missing out on anything.” Taylor also notes that “you become much more meticulous when you’ve got a kosher kitchen,” which is an asset in its own right. “You become careful about making sure you observe the mitzvah properly and don’t make any mistakes.” Calev (Eric) Taylor says that “when you keep kosher, it changes your life in meaningful ways.” Other articles in the series: Q&A: Tools of the Koshering Trade: Pots, Rocks, Blow Torch Keeping Kosher at the Last Stop Before the South Pole Q&A: 40 Years Later, Leaders Savor the Details of Kosher Campaign’s History How One Purple Book Revolutionized Kosher Cooking © Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.

Kosher Cooking    Pulled Beef Sandwiches with Crunchy Coleslaw     By Miriam Szokovski

I’ll let these pulled beef and coleslaw sandwiches speak for themselves . . . The meat is slow cooked and then easily shredded using two forks. I’ve chosen a tart, more acidic coleslaw, which helps cut the heaviness of the fatty meat. Beyond that, you can add lettuce, tomato, cucumber, pickle, avocado, corn, and any other add-ins you choose. You do need to use a fatty cut for pulled beef, so you can get that nice, soft, falling-apart texture. The long cook on a lower temperature helps break down the fat, making the meat absolutely succulent. I used short ribs (bone in, which gives it extra flavor), but you could also use a second cut brisket. Although the meat takes a while to cook, it keeps in the fridge for at least 4 days (stored in an airtight container), so you can make it on Sunday and use it in these sandwiches one night, and use the leftovers another night. It goes well in tacos, or over mashed potatoes, rice or pasta. It also freezes well if you want to use it again, but not the same week. Pulled Beef Ingredients: 2 onions, sliced in half rounds ¼ cup oil 1 tsp. kosher salt 2.5 lb. short ribs (bone in) 1 cup BBQ sauce ¼ cup soy sauce ¼ cup rice vinegar or apple cider vinegar ¼ cup pure maple syrup ½ cup water 1½ tsp. garlic powder 1½ tsp. ginger powder Directions: In medium-sized pot, fry the onions with the oil and salt until golden. Remove the onions and set aside. Return pot to the heat. Cut the ribs between the bones (but do not remove the bones) and brown on each side, in the same pot. Brown the meat in small batches. If the pot is overcrowded, the meat will steam instead of browning. When all the meat has browned, add the onions back into the pot. Pour in all the sauce ingredients over the meat and mix to combine. Cover the pot and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook over a very low flame for 3 hours. Remove the meat from the sauce and shred. (If the meat does not fall apart easily, you need to cook it for longer.) Discard the bones and any lumps of fat. Return the meat to the sauce and keep warm until ready to assemble the sandwiches. Meat keeps well in either the refrigerator or freezer. Coleslaw Ingredients: 1 lb. purple coleslaw mix (you can use pre-bagged mix, or if you’re making your own, the ratio is about 70% shredded purple cabbage, 15% shredded green cabbage, 15% shredded carrot) ¼ cup honey 3 tbsp. apple cider vinegar 3 tbsp. light olive oil 1½ tsp. mustard ½ tsp. kosher salt Dash of garlic powder and black pepper Directions: Pour the honey, apple cider vinegar, oil, mustard, salt, pepper and garlic into a saucepan and cook over low heat until combined. Let the dressing cool, then pour it over the coleslaw mix. Refrigerate for at least a couple of hours, preferably overnight, to allow the flavors to marinate. You will also need: Fresh, crusty bread Other fixings of your choice, such as tomatoes, pickles, cucumbers Lots and lots of napkins! 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 2016, all rights reserved.

Chabad.org Magazine   -   Editor: Yanki Tauber

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