"Kaddish for a Father Who Abandoned Me" Chabad Magazine for Tuesday, Adar I 14, 5776 · February 23, 2016

"Kaddish for a Father Who Abandoned Me" Chabad Magazine for Tuesday, Adar I 14, 5776 · February 23, 2016
Editor's Note:
Dear Friend,
My youngest son and I recently had the pleasure of spending a few days with my grandmother. As I balanced the needs of a toddler and a nonagenarian, the parallels between the two flashed through my mind.
My son is at that stage where he understands but does not yet talk. He uses sounds and motions, and sometimes resorts to tugging until we realize what he wants.
My grandmother is always great to talk to, yet she is at that stage where she sometimes forgets a word, a thought, or worse, a name, resulting in frustration on her part.
My son speeds up and down the stairs. I try to encourage his budding independence while at the same time ensuring that he does not get hurt.
My grandmother wishes to continue living as she always has, but her body is frail. So as I watch her cautiously climbing the stairs, I try to respect her dignity while protecting her from being hurt.
Our babies and our seniors deserve to be heard, esteemed and treated with dignity, whether they can speak or not, whether they remember who we are or not.
The Torah enjoins us to honor and respect our elders. Over these few days, I learned that dignity truly starts in infancy.
I’d like to hear your thoughts on dignity (or on my musings).
Chana Benjaminson
on behalf of the Chabad.org Editorial Team
The Highest High
There's no greater high than finding truth on your own.
All worlds were made, all barriers put in place, every veil over truth was hung, and the soul plummeted from its pristine height into the confusion of this harsh world—
—all for this one thing alone: That you should uncover truth on your own.
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Your Questions
Why Are Some Stores Considered "Glatt"? by Yehuda Shurpin

Lots of supermarkets and caterers advertise themselves as being “glatt kosher.” What exactly is “glatt”? Is it Yiddish for “super-kosher”? And how does one receive such a designation?
Reply
The word “glatt” actually means “smooth” in Yiddish and refers to the lack of adhesions on the lungs of an animal.
To understand this, we need to define another word that has taken on a whole new meaning, treif.
In the vernacular, the word refers to anything unkosher. In truth, treif refers specifically to an animal that has died a violent death, as the verse states, “Do not eat meat from an animal torn (treifah) in the field."1
More broadly defined, this also includes animals that have physical defects that halachah determines will limit their lives. Even if such animals would be properly slaughtered and salted, their meat would not be kosher.
One of the more common invalidating defects is a punctured lung. Every animal2 needs to be inspected by an expert bodek to determine that its lungs don’t contain any holes or defects.
This is where the term “glatt”comes in.
Glatt Kosher
Besides for the obvious holes, there are often sirchot, scar-tissue-like adhesions, that sometimes develop on the lungs. These are problematic, since they indicate that there either was a hole that did not heal properly,3 or that a hole is developing in the loose tissue.4
Most adhesions on the lungs render the animal a treifah—not kosher.5 Some, however, describe techniques by which one can squeeze, palpate and test some adhesions to ascertain whether they are bona fidesirchot or merely rir (spittle-like discharge), which would render the animals kosher.6
Rabbi Yosef Caro (the Beit Yosef), author of the Code of Jewish Law, strongly disapproves of this test and holds that all adhesions are considered treifah.7
On the other hand, Rabbi Moshe Isserlis, in his gloss to the Code, while opining that one should be strict and not rely on these tests, notes that it was the practice among Ashkenazic Jewry to at times be lenient and rely on this test if done by an extremely G‑d-fearing and qualified tester.8
Sephardim, who generally follow the ruling of Rabbi Yosef Caro, don’t rely on these tests at all. For Ashkenazim, who generally follow the rulings of Rabbi Moshe Isserlis, there are two standards of meat: a) kosher, which relies on this test; and b) glatt kosher, meat from animals whose lungs were found to be smooth (glatt) without any adhesions.
Glatt/Chalak Beit Yosef
While on the topic of glatt kosher, it should be noted that if you go to a kosher butcher, you may find another category of meat called glatt or chalak Beit Yosef.
Glatt in the classical sense means that there were no adhesions whatsoever,but since it is very uncommon to find totally smooth lungs, the majority of meat sold nowadays as glatt relies on the process of peeling and testing mentioned by Rabbi Isserlis, but only for very light and soft adhesions which come off easily.9 As mentioned, Sephardim don’t rely on this test at all.
This, however, is only the case for beef. When it comes to other animals such as deer, calves (veal) and lamb, all agree that no type of sirchah may be removed. All such animals sold today as kosher would essentially be glatt kosher.10
At the same time, when it comes to finding sirchot, not all areas of the lung are equal. While all hold that there are certain areas of the lung where a sirchah will not render the animal non-kosher, there is a disagreement as to what exactly these areas are. In this aspect, the Sephardic view (following the Beit Yosef) is more lenient with more areas where a sirchah can exist without affecting the kosher status of the animal. Those same sirchot would make the entire animal treif for Ashkenazim (following the rulings Rabbi Isserlis). In other words, while Rabbi Yosef Caro is more strict on the type of sirchah, he is more lenient when it comes to where it can be found.
In practice, many Sephardim follow both the stringency of Rabbi Isserlis as well as Rabbi Yosef Caro and a) don’t rely on any of the tests of sirchot;and b) also don’t rely on the leniencies of Rabbi Yosef Caro about the sirchot found in certain areas.
Based on this, one can find three different types of kosher meat on the market: 1) plain kosher meat; 2) glatt kosher; and 3) glatt or chalak Beit Yosef, which follows the ruling of the Sephardim.
The Colloquial Term “Glatt Kosher”
If your local bakery advertises itself as “glatt,” it’s seemingly making the absurd claim that its cupcakes and donuts have healthy lungs. However, in colloquial speech, the term “glatt kosher” has come to be used—albeit inaccurately—to refer to something that is unquestionably kosher without having to rely on various leniencies.
At the same time, the opposite is also true. Nowadays, when the term “kosher non-glatt” is used for meat, it many times relies on various other questionable leniencies that have nothing to do with the issue of sirchotdiscussed above. This is just one of the reasons why it is crucial, especially when it comes to meat, for the kosher consumer to only buy products that have a reliable kashrut certification.
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.Exodus 22:30.
2.Excluding fowl.
3.Rashi on Talmud, Chulin 46b.
4.Tosfot on Talmud, Chulin 46b.
5.See Talmud, Chulin 46b.
6.See Rosh on Talmud, Chulin 46b, Mar Yaakov Gaon.
7.Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Deiah 39:10.
8.Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Deiah 39:13.
9.See Beit Dovid 39:6.
10.Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Deiah 39:13.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
Your Questions
Kaddish for a Father Who Abandoned Me by Tzvi Freeman

Dear Ask-the-Rabbi Rabbi,
My father ran away when I was two years old. Disappeared. No child support, nothing. Now I’m twenty-four. Last year I tracked him down. Don’t ask me why. I felt I had to, without knowing what I would say or do when we met. Just to discover he had died two years ago.
Now I’m torn. On the one hand, I figure I have to say kaddish on his yahrtzeit—in two months. On the other hand, what connection do I have to him? I mean, he abandoned me and Mom for all those years. And he never tried to make a connection with me or support me in any way, so why should I say kaddish for him?
Maybe this is not the real sort of situation that kaddish is meant for. Doesn’t saying kaddish imply at least some kind of emotional attachment or respect?[Yitz Gadal (pseudonym)]
Response:
Hi Yitz!
Yes, it’s the pits. It’s the kind of pain that’s so deep, you don’t want to acknowledge how much it hurts. Because you don’t want to have to visit that place inside. There’s something about us that wants—really badly wants—to put our parents on a pedestal. There’s something about us that really badly wants to put our parents on a pedestal.But then you find Dad and realize that he doesn’t belong on a pedestal, because he never had a pedestal to begin with.
Do you have to say kaddish for him? Let’s say Dad was sexually abusive or a relentless child-beater. For such a parent, you probably would have no obligation to sit in mourning for him. Mourning is a way of honoring a parent, and someone so blatantly wicked has foregone that honor.1 Saying kaddish may be another matter, as we will see.
But I don’t think that’s the case here. It sounds more like someone who was just irresponsible. You’ve still got a valid grudge—he never cared to contact you, or make up for all those years of abandonment.
And that’s important to face up to. When we don’t acknowledge the faults of our parents, we end up shifting the blame from them onto ourselves. It’s when that pedestal falls that you free yourself from the burden of guilt so you can get on with life.
So I suggest you first try to acknowledge that grudge, visit the place of that hurt, and then, when you’re ready, get on with healing it. And a kaddish on his yahrtzeit could well be the right place to start with that healing.2
The Prototypical Orphan’s Kaddish
I’ll explain why. This may seem strange, but although it may seem like you are one in a million, you’re not. In fact, the classic Talmudic story of kaddish said by a child is a case of one who never knew a father—and whose father was not worth knowing. There are many versions, but it basically goes like this:3
Rabbi Akiva sees a man running through a cemetery. The guy is naked, black with soot, and burdened with a load of wood.
Rabbi Akiva yells, “Stop! What on earth are you doing?” And, being Rabbi Akiva, he continues, “And what can I do to help?”
Turns out, the guy was dead. In his past life, he had been a tax collector with an important government position who squeezed the life out of the poor to give to the rich. He also committed adultery—on Yom Kippur, no less.
As a punishment, he now must collect wood each day to build a pyre upon which he is barbecued each evening, only to have to run through the exercise again the next morning. (Today, this is called being an employee.)
Rabbi Akiva asks whether this dead man has any clues how he could be granted a pardon.
“Yes,” the man answers. “I heard my supervisors saying that if I had a son, and that son would stand among the congregation and say kaddish and the congregation would answer, ‘Amen! Yehei shmeih rabba mevorach!’4—then I would be off the hook for his sake.”
“No problem!” exclaims Rabbi Akiva. “Let me take care of it.”
“Big problem,” the man replies. "I didn’t leave a son behind.”
“Yes, that’s a problem,” I heard them say that if I had a son who would say kaddish more me, I would be off the hook.Rabbi Akiva says.
“On the other hand,” the man continues, “I think my wife was pregnant when I died. But I don’t know whether she gave birth, and whether it was a boy or a girl. And if she did, the boy certainly wouldn’t have learned any Torah, because the people weren’t exactly my friends.”
“You’ve got me as a friend,” answers Rabbi Akiva. “Just give me your info. Your name, your wife’s name and the name of your town.”
“Name is Arnuniya. Wife’s name, Shishchaya. Town, Ludkiya.”
Rabbi Akiva is immediately on his way to Ludkiya. Once there, he’s asking the townspeople about Arnuniya. The response is worse than he imagined.
“May his bones grind in hell.” they mutter, spitting on the ground and grinding the spit deep in.
“How about his wife, Shishchaya?” he asks.
Not a good question. “May her name and her memory be eradicated!” they answer, spitting again.
So he asks about her child. Good news and bad news. Shoshiva had a boy. But she had never even bothered to circumcised him.
Rabbi Akiva gets hold of this child, circumcises him and sits him down to learn. The kid just sits there blinking. His skull is so thick, nothing can enter.
Rabbi Akiva is a man of love and compassion for every one of G‑d’s creatures—even tax collectors and their children. What does he do? He fasts for forty days. After forty days, he hears a voice from heaven: “Akiva, you’re fasting for who?”
“Master of the Universe!” Rabbi Akiva shouts out. “Just trust me on this one. Open up the kid’s heart so I can work with him.”
As this is Rabbi Akiva talking, G‑d complies. Next thing you know, the kid is reading Torah like a pro, saying the Shema Yisrael, the Silent Prayer and even Grace After Meals.
As soon as he’s ready, Rabbi Akiva stands him before the congregation. The boy says “Barchu” and they answer him.
Finally, he says kaddish and they answer him, “Amen! Yehei shmeih rabba mevorach!”
The end of the story: The father is released from the barbecue business with a ticket to heaven. We know that because he returned to Rabbi Akiva in a dream to thank him.
The Soul’s Interface
Now, I’m not judging the father who abandoned you. I don’t know the whole story. What I do know is that there are two souls here that need fixing as a result of his parenting, or lack of it: Yours and his. When you fix your parent’s past, you fix your own future.And kaddish is a powerful tool—along with others we’ll get to later—to do just that. It’s a two-way street that runs through the avenues of the heart and mind, right into the soul: When you fix your parent’s past, you fix your own future.
That requires some explanation. Which Rabbi Yitzchak Luria (Tzfat, 16th century), known as the Arizal, provides:5
The first thing you have to know is that we are not like automobiles coming off a factory line. Whatever happens at the Honda plant in Indiana today doesn’t affect my Accord that came off its lines two years ago. But with the people we came from, we are forever connected.
A father can walk out on his kids, but he can’t divorce them. He can’t even truly and completely separate himself from them. And neither can the kids divorce their father. A father is forever a father and a child forever a child, for better and for worse. At the end of the day, the memory of a child is indelibly engraved in the mind of the parent, and the imprint of the parent pervades every cell of the child. Geographically they may be light-years apart, but like entangled subatomic particles, what happens in one immediately affects the other.An essential part of you emerges out of your parents and remains forever connected to them.
The reason for that, the Arizal explains, is because it’s not just chromosomes that you receive from your parents. An essential part of you has not only emerged from out of your parents, but remains forever connected to them. It’s not your soul and it’s not your body. It’s something in a certain way even more important than either of those.
Who are you? In essence, the Arizal taught, you are a Divine soul, sent here on a mission. The principle target of your mission is a body of sinews and blood driven by the instincts of self-preservation and gratification. Your soul must enter that body so that it can bring it to realize that it too is divine—and to get it to behave that way.
But how can a Divine soul, the ultimate spiritual being, relate to an earthly physical body? The answer is that it’s provided a kind of interface, in the form of a thinking human personality.
Think of the interface between you and the device that’s in your hands or on your desktop as you are reading this. You and that hardware reside in two very different worlds. That’s why companies such as Apple, Google and Microsoft spend billions of dollars designing an elegant interface—a visual and audible means of presenting what’s going on inside that plastic, metal and silicon box—that is meaningful, intuitive and speaks to you, while efficiently driving its hardware within.
As a human being, you have a similar interface, and it’s not just your physical brain. Your Divine soul operates through the medium of a human mind and heart that is capable of seeing beyond instinct and immediate gratification, a being that can hear what the Divine soul is trying to say and be inspired by it. Yet, at the same time, it’s a human mind and heart, very much a part of this world. It acts as the go-between, reining in the beast while teaching it to conform to the vision of the Divine soul.
Fixing Upstream
Here’s the hitch: While the body is a product of Mom and Dad’s DNA, and the soul is a forever Divine piece of business handpicked by the Creator to fulfill its particular mission on the planet, this intelligent interface that is at the guts of your personality, this is something, the Arizal teaches, that emerges from the inner mental and spiritual state of your father and mother at the time of conception.
Whoa, you’re saying, that might not be a good deal, because my parents’ mental and spiritual state at the time they were making me might not have been so healthy. No matter how great the divine soul that breathes within you, it's still needs that interface.Or worse. Yes, that is the problem. No matter how great the Divine soul that breathes within you, if it doesn’t have a clear pathway to the human animal in which it is invested, it’s going to be riding a bucking bronco without saddle or reins.
That was the problem of the little child of the tax collector in Rabbi Akiva’s story. His body was healthy. His Divine soul was perfect, as every Divine soul must be, and all its programming was there in place. It’s just that because of who his parents were, how they behaved and where their heads were at, the interface between that soul and the body was a disaster. Torah could not enter, and prayer could not come out.
But there’s a fix. Because the personalities of child and parents remain networked. Which means you can go back to your initial compiler—that’s Mom and Dad—and raise them up a notch. Or, to use a low-tech analogy, it’s sort of like fixing a river’s ecology upstream so that the water runs downstream crystal clear.
Kaddish is one way of accomplishing that. When you say kaddish for a parent, you are leading the community in declaring the greatness of their Creator on your parent’s behalf. That elevates your dad’s soul, and when his soul is elevated above, so is yours down here. Learning Torah on your father’s behalf lifts his soul even higher. And giving charity in his name rockets his soul upward at light speed. Any mitzvah you do in his memory will have a powerful effect.
From all of this, as we said, your own dividends are extreme. Because your soul and his are inextricably connected, you will find yourself riding a more refined, well-tuned beast—because the interfaces of your mind and heart are so much more intuitive and receptive. Your spiritual state is then reflected in your material state, as the channels of blessing for finances, marriage and good grades—or whatever good things you want in life—open wide.
Do It Now
Everything in this world, the Arizal taught, is a two-way street. Everything in this world is a two-way street. And that's something to celebrate.Fortunately, you don’t have to wait until a parent is gone to know what you’ve got—and to do something about it.
Yitz, your father may be gone, but your mother is still with you. When you provide her with the most valuable things a child can give to a parent—respect, honor, love and dignity—your own persona rises higher along with hers.
There are those who feel their parents don’t deserve that respect—and, in some cases, they may be right. Some people have abusive parents. Some need to stay far away from home. Some even have to avoid all communication.6
Yet despite all that, we’re never passive victims of this universe. The same One who deals the cards is the same One who gives us the opportunities to win. We may not be able to change the people around us directly, but we can do our best to fix ourselves, our attitude and how we treat others. When we do that, all those connected to us move up a notch, in this world and in the next. And it all bounces back to the place from which it came.
There’s a lot to celebrate. The whole universe is in your hands.
Rabbi Tzvi Freeman, a senior editor at Chabad.org, also heads our Ask The Rabbi team. He is the author of Bringing Heaven Down to Earth. To subscribe to regular updates of Rabbi Freeman's writing, visitFreeman Files subscription.
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 glosses of Rema (Rabbi Moshe Isserles) to Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Deah 340:5; Siftei Kohen 340:8; Chochmat Adam 156:3, concerning mourning for a wicked person. Furthermore, the Torah does not demand that a person place unbearable strain on his or her psychological wellbeing for the sake of honoring a parent. For a full discussion of such cases see Rabbi Mark Dratch’s article inHakirah 12 (2011): 105–119.
2.Since the news was heard over a year later, there is no seven-day mourning period, or thirty days, or year of mourning. One simply sits on the ground for a short time.Keriah (ripping of upper garments) is also performed, but this should be done with the assistance of a rabbi or someone experienced in the specifics of this obligation.
Nevertheless, it is certainly worthwhile to make up for the lost year of mourning by such things as leading the congregation in prayer, reading the haftarah, and certainly by giving charity and taking on more mitzvahs on behalf of the deceased.
3.Ohr Zarua II, end of chapter 50; Responsa of Rivash 115; Menorat Hamaor (Abuhav), Ner Aleph 2:1, quoting Kallah Rabbati 11 and Tanchuma Noach; Eliyahu Zuta end of chapter 17; Zohar Chadash.
4.Translation: “May His great name be blessed forever and ever!” That’s the standard response to kaddish. The main point of kaddish is that you lead the congregation in saying that.
5.Likkutei Torah (Arizal), Parshat Va’eira.
6.When asked, “What is the proper response when in-law interference causes marital problems?” the halachic authority Rabbi Moshe Shapiro responded with the following:
“When such interventions erode peace and harmony in the home, couples should deny their parents entry. If that doesn’t work, they should send the parents away in a manner that makes it clear that their parents’ intervention has generated this alienation. This is the husband’s responsibility. It is obvious that the rule of honoring one’s father and mother does not apply here; one is not obligated to put his life aside for his parents’ honor. But it is advisable to first consult with an impartial Torah scholar.” [Sefer Binat Hamidot: Pirkei Hadrachah (Jerusalem: Binat Halev, 5767), p. 86, free translation.]
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
Celebrating Purim Katan
Always Happy
Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe
“The beginning is embedded in the end,” say the Kabbalists, “and the end in the beginning.”1
Everything has a beginning and an end. The beginning precedes all other stages and particulars, and the end follows them all. But the beginning, if it is a true beginning, contains the seeds of all that is to follow; and the end, if it is a true end, is the culmination and fulfillment of everything that preceded it.
So the beginning and the end each embody the entire process, each in its own way. Each is the mirror image of the other: a true understanding of the beginning reveals the end, while a true understanding of the end uncovers the essence of the beginning.
Orach Chaim (“The Way of Life”) is the first of the four sections of the Shulchan Aruch, the codification of Torah law that has been universally accepted as the most basic guide to Jewish life. As its name indicates, Orach Chaim is the section that deals with the day-to-day life of the Jew: the daily prayers, the laws of tzitzit and tefillin, the observance of Shabbat and the festivals, and so on.2 Like every book, Orach Chaim has a beginning and an end. And here, too, “the beginning is embedded in the end, and the end in the beginning.”
The Could’ve-Been Purim
In the opening lines of Orach Chaim, the Shulchan Aruch quotes Psalms 16:8: “I set G‑d before me always.” “This is a great principle in Torah,” it goes on to say. “When a person sets in his heart that the Great King, the Holy One, blessed be He, whose presence fills the entire world, stands over him and sees his deeds . . . he will immediately achieve a fear of G‑d and submission to Him . . .”3
Orach Chaim closes with another verse—from Proverbs 15:15: “He who is of good heart is festive always.” The subject under discussion is Purim Katan, the “Little Purim.” Purim occurs on the 14th day of the month of Adar—the day established by Mordechai and Esther as a day of “feasting and rejoicing”4 in commemoration of the Jews’ salvation from Haman’s evil decree in the year 3405 from creation (356 BCE). But approximately once every three years, the Jewish calendar contains not one but two months called Adar—Adar I and Adar II.5
Which is the “real” Adar, and which is the addition? When should Purim be celebrated—in Adar I or Adar II? The Talmud rules that Purim is to be celebrated in Adar II. Nevertheless, the fourteenth day of Adar I is also a special day—it is “Little Purim,” the day that would have been Purim had the year not been a leap year.
What do we do on Purim Katan? We don’t read the megillah, nor is there any special mitzvah to send food portions to friends or give gifts to the poor, as is the case on Purim proper. The Shulchan Aruch cites an opinion that one should increase in festivity and joy, but rules that there is no halachic obligation to do so. “Nevertheless,” the Shulchan Aruch continues, “a person should increase somewhat in festivity, in order to fulfill his duty according to the opinion that it is obligatory.” By way of explanation, it concludes with the above quote from Proverbs: “One who is of good heart is festive always.” Joy and festivity are always desirable; so, if an opportunity presents itself in the form of a day that might have been Purim—the most joyous day of the year—one should certainly rejoice and celebrate.
The Two Constants
The beginning is embedded in the end, and the end in the beginning.
I set G‑d before me always. One who is of good heart is festive always. Always, always. Always fearful, always joyous.
The foundation of all is the fear of heaven. Unless man perceives himself as constantly in the presence of G‑d, unless he trembles before the immensity of the import G‑d places on his every act, there can be no Shulchan Aruch, no divine law for life.
The culmination of all is joy. When the Jew concludes the Orach Chaim section of Shulchan Aruch—when the “The Way of Life” becomes his or her way of life from morning to night and from Passover to Purim6—his every moment becomes a link in a chain of perpetual joy. She is realizing her purpose in life, actualizing her deepest potentials, and there is no greater joy.
But fear is not only the beginning, nor is joy only the end. As the foundation of all, the fear of heaven pervades the Jew’s every hour and deed, from the most solemn moments of Yom Kippur to the inebriating joy of Purim. As the culmination of all, joy too pervades every nook and cranny of Jewish life: also in the “days of awe” of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the Jew is enjoined to “tremulously rejoice.”7
Fear and joy are as diverse as any two emotions to reside in the human heart. But the Shulchan Aruch synergizes them as a perpetual state of joyous trembling and tremulous joy. For the beginning is embedded in the end, and the end in the beginning.
Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, adapted by Yanki Tauber; originally published in Week In Review
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.
Image by chassidic artist Shoshannah Brombacher. To view or purchase Ms. Brombacher’s art, click here.
FOOTNOTES
1.Sefer Yetzirah 1:7.
2.The other three sections of the Shulchan Aruch deal with subjects that are generally the province of rabbis and judges:kashrut, marriage and divorce, civil law, and the like.
3.The Shulchan Aruch consists of a code compiled by Rabbi Joseph Caro (1488–1575) and the annotations and glosses appended to it by Rema (Rabbi Moshe Isserles, approx. 1525–1572). The “beginning” and “end” cited in this essay are from Rema’s glosses on the first and last halachot of Orach Chaim.
4.Esther 9:22.
5.In the Jewish calendar, the months, which follow the lunar cycle, consist of either 29 or 30 days. Twelve such months make a “lunar year” of approximately 354 days—some 11 days short of the 365.25-day solar year. In order to align the Jewish year with the solar cycle, a thirteenth month is periodically added—in nineteen years, there are seven such leap years.
6.Though the Jewish year begins on Rosh Hashanah, the calendar of the festivals is reckoned by the Torah as running from Passover to Purim (Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 2a), and this is the format followed by the Shulchan Aruch. For the deeper significance of our “two-headed” year, see Our Other Head.
7.Psalms 2:11. See Likkutei Torah, Devarim 47a, et al.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
Celebrating Purim Katan
Learn Tanya, Chapter 33, in Plain English
Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi; as rendered by Tzvi Freeman
Glossary for this chapter:
Emunah:
Generally translated as faith. That word, however, bears connotations of ignorance and naivety for most of us. In Tanya, emunah is described an innate conviction that transcends, rather than avoids, reason. On the contrary, "wisdom, understanding and knowledge" further enhance this conviction. See chapters 18-19.
Sitra Achra:
Literally, the other side. There are only two sides: One side lets the truth of G‑d’s oneness shine through, the other opposes it; one side tells you—or at least admits—that there is nothing else but Him, and the other side denies it. This phenomena is personified as a force whose domain encompasses almost all of the material world—although in truth it is only an artifact of a vacuum of divine energy.
Kelipot:
Singular: Kelipah. Literally, shell or husk. Used to describe forces that obstruct the divine light.
The Text:
Here's another way to inject genuine happiness into your life—especially at those times when you see your soul needs to be lit up with a joyous sparkle and shine:
Think deeply; picture in your mind and in your understanding His true unity, blessed be He—how He fills all worlds, higher and lower. Even this entire earth is His glory.Contemplate how there is nothing else but Him.
And all of it is absolutely nil relative to Him. There is just Him and only Him in the higher worlds and the lower worlds—exactly as there was nothing but Him before the six days in which He created everything. Even in this space in which this world was created—the heavens and the earth and all that populates them—there was just Him alone pervading this entire space. And so too now there is only Him alone without any change at all.
How could this be? Because the very existence of all He has created adds up to absolute zero relative to Him.
One way to better grasp this idea is to think of the articulations of speech—or the words you hear in your thoughts—and their relationship to your own self. Think of how those articulations emerge from within your core being—meaning from your ten core-faculties of chochmah, binah, daat, etc..Two analogies: the emergence of speech and sunlight Yet within that context they are non-entities. There is nothing about them that can be called “words”—not until these faculties take on the garb of conscious thought. Only there in the context of conscious thought or verbal speech do these non-entities emerge as entities of their own.
There is another analogy from the physical world: the null state of a ray of the sun’s light within its origin. Obviously, this light shines within the actual sphere of the sun in the sky—and with far greater intensity than it shines in the space outside the sun. Yet there, within the sun, the distinct existence of any particular beam of light is annihilated, as though it does not exist at all.
That’s exactly the way it is, metaphorically speaking, with the world and all it contains. When seen within the context of its origin—the Infinite Light—it’s very existence is null and void (more on this later).
Now, when you think deeply and persistently about these ideas, your heart will celebrate and your soul will rejoice. The ultimate celebration: G‑d at home in your worldYou will rejoice and sing out with all your heart, soul and might with this emunah, it is so immense. This is the real closeness to G‑d. And this is the entire person, why you were created and why all the worlds were created, higher worlds and lower worlds—so that He could have a home in the lower worlds. (This idea of G‑d's desire for a home in the lower worlds is something we’ll discuss in detail later.)
Think of how much a common, lowly person would celebrate his closeness to a mortal king who came to lodge with him and is now moving in to his place, together with him in his home. Now multiply that ad infinitum when it comes to G‑d, the ultimate King, being close to you and being at home with you. As G‑d Himself says, “For who is this whose heart stirs him to approach Me?” And yet, in your home and your life, He is there with you.
This is why they prescribed that we praise and thank Him every morning, saying, “How fortunate we are! How goodly is our portion! How sweet is our lot and how beautiful is our inheritance!” Just as a person would celebrate an inheritance—let’s say an unimaginable treasure of wealth that fell to him without any labor on his part—that’s how we need to celebrate the inheritance our parents left us, but infinitely more so. What is that inheritance? Our emunah in G‑d’s true oneness, that even upon this earth below there is nothing else. And this emunah itself is G‑d’s home in the lower worlds.
This is what our teachers, of blessed memory, meant when they said, “Six hundred and thirteen mitzvahs were given to Israel...Habakuk came and placed them all on a single base when he said, “...and a righteous person lives on his emunah.” How is that a single base? Because it really is as though there is only one mitzvah and that is emunah alone, since with emunah alone you will end up keeping all the mitzvahs.
How? Emunah: Celebration: EmpowermentWhen you will celebrate your emunah in G‑d’s unity with the most exquisite joy in your heart, as though you have nothing else on your shoulders other than this mitzvah—because, after all, this alone is the ultimate purpose of your creation and the creation of all worlds—then, powered by the vital energy of your soul in such boundless celebration, your soul will transcend higher and yet higher beyond all those things that hold you back from keeping all the 613 mitzvahs, whether those be your own personal issues or whether they be external circumstances.
This is why it says that a righteous person will live by his emunah—like the revival of the dead, so too this boundless joy will revive his soul.
This is a doubled and redoubled celebration. Aside from the celebration of your own soul when you contemplate the closeness of G‑d—how He dwells alongside you and with you—there is yet another thing to doubly celebrate: G‑d’s Celebration: Darkness becomes LightG‑d’s joy and the great pleasure that He receives through your emunah. Because with your emunah the sitra achra is actually suppressed and darkness transformed to light. The darkness is the darkness of the kelipot of this coarsely physical world that will darken and cover up His light until the end of days, as it says, “He has set a time limit to darkness.”2
This is especially so outside of the Land of Israel, since the air of the lands of foreign nations is spiritually contaminated and full of kelipot and sitra achra. For G‑d, there is nothing to celebrate more than the brightness and joy of the most special light—that which is generated out of darkness.
This is one way to interpret the verse, “Israel should rejoice in his Maker”: Every Jewish person should celebrate along with G‑d as He rejoices and celebrates His dwelling in the lower world. That is why the word “Maker” is used—because it refers to His relationship with a world made of real action. That’s also why the word is written in the plural form (”Makers”)—since it is referring to His making this physical world, full of kelipot and sitra achra, called the domain of many and divided mountains. All this is transformed to light and becomes a singular domain for His oneness—all through your emunah.
Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi (18 Elul 1745-24 Tevet 1812), known as "the Alter Rebbe," was one of the main disciples of the Maggid of Mezritch, and the founder of the Chabad Chassidism. He is the author of Shulchan Aruch HaRav and Tanya as well as many other major works in both Jewish law and the mystical teachings.
Translation by Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
FOOTNOTES
1.All this is explained in chapter 20 & 21 at length. See there.
2.This refers to the end of days when He will remove the spirit of tumah from the earth, the glory of G‑d will be revealed and “all living beings will see together…”—as explained later.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
Parshah
The Newlyweds by Menachem Feldman

It was inevitable.
Yes, I know you invested so much in this relationship. I know you spent the last two years planning the wedding and the honeymoon. And yet I still think it was inevitable. Sooner or later, you would offend her deeply.
Think about it. You are different people with different backgrounds, experiences and expectations. In fact, your differences are what attracted you to each other in the first place. No surprise, then, that after the excitement of the wedding, when you got back to real life, you fell back into your old habits and shattered her heart.
What should you do now, you ask?If she loves you, she will let you know what to do Should you buy her chocolates or roses, or take her out to dinner? Well, pay attention. Try everything you can think of, but keep paying attention.
For, if she loves you, she will let you know what to do.
After the pain subsides, if you listen carefully, she will show you just how you should console her. And how she wants you to demonstrate that you care about her, that you cherish the relationship, and that you are determined to rebuild the connection.
Listen carefully and you will hear.
And that is exactly what happened in the most dramatic story of newlywed betrayal. Just forty days after the most monumental wedding in history—the wedding between G‑d and the Jewish people at Sinai—the bride betrayed the groom. The people served the Golden Calf, striking the heart of their Beloved.
The Jews were sure that the relationship was doomed.
And yet, somehow, it survived.
The relationship survived, and not only because of the story you heard in Hebrew School, about Moses threatening G‑d, telling Him to forgive the people, “and if not, erase me from Your book which You have written.”1
It survived because of the lesser-known continuation of the story, in which Moses asked G‑d, “Show me your glory.”2 Moses asked G‑d to show them what they could do to restore the relationship.
G‑d agreed. And, in what may be one of the most convoluted verses in all of the Torah, G‑d said, “You will see my back, but my face will not be seen.”3
The rabbis, aware that this verse captures a deep mystical truth, explain that G‑d wrapped Himself in a tallit and tefillin,4 then turned His back to Moses and showed him “the knot of the head tefillin.”5
Moses listened.
He listened and learned how the Jews can save their marriage with G‑d. He listened as G‑d showed him the ingredients needed to recreate the love.
The tallit and tefillin serve as reminders. The Torah states regarding the tallit: "This shall be fringes for you, and when you see it, you will remember all the commandments of the Lord.”6 And regarding the tefillin, it is written: “And it shall be to you as a sign upon your hand and as a remembrance between your eyes.”7
G‑d was teaching Moses that for our relationship to thrive, we must “wear the tallit.” We must show Him that we “remember,” that we are constantly mindful of how important this relationship is to us. To survive emotional betrayal, our Beloved must have no doubt that we constantly cherish our relationship with Him, more than anything else. More than our hobbies and more than our careers.
“Remembering,” however, can be too abstract. And that's why we also need the “knot of tefillin.” The knot represents our actions, which connect us to G‑d. And like a rope that was torn, we need to tie a double knot. We need to demonstrate that, because theWe need to tie a double knot relationship is now at the forefront of our mind, we are prepared to double the actions that bind us to Him.8
So put on your metaphorical “tallit” and “tefillin.”
Show Him that you remember. Tie the double knot. You'll discover that the bond is deeper than ever.
Rabbi Menachem Feldman serves as the director of the Lifelong Learning department at the Chabad Lubavitch Center in Greenwich, CT.
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 32: 32.
2.Exodus 33: 18.
3.Exodus 33:23
4.Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 17b.
5.Rashi, Exodus 33:23
6.Numbers 15:39
7.Exodus 13: 9
8.As The Alter Rebbe writes in Tanya: In Tanna Dvai Eliahu we find, "A man commits a sin and is liable to death before the Almighty, what shall he do and live? If he was accustomed to studying one page, he shall study two, to studying one chapter, he shall study two chapters..." This parallels the illustration of the cord severed and then reknotted— the place of the knot is so much thicker than the unaffected portion. So it is with the "Cord of His possession." Igeres Hakodesh Chapter 9.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
Parshah
Don’t Judge the Makers of the Golden Calf By Lazer Gurkow
Incredulous Reactions
We give the builders of the golden calf a bad rap, and deservedly so. They sakj n chcvyhw G‑d directly and heard the Ten Commandments, yet betrayed him 40 days later. How could they? If we had seen the revelations at Sinai, there is no way we would have sunk so low!
Or would we?
Imagine seeing two grown men who both lost their father on the same day. The first lost his composure and became violent in his grief, wreaking havoc and injury. The other remained calm despite his loss. It would appear at first blush that the latter has a right to judge the former, but he doesn’t.
The damage he caused is unjustified, but the latter condemns him unfairly because he doesn’t understand him. The former loved his dad and was overwhelmed by grief, the latter had a more distant relationship with his father. He assumes that losing a father is as easy for everyone as it was for him and has no idea how devastating it can be. You can only understand the outburst if you can relate to this kind of grief—and if you possess the same type of temperament. If you understand, you can judge.
The same is true of judgment we pass on the builders of the golden calf. We know they were wrong, but never having experienced the desperation they did, we aren’t in a position to judge. In fact, we would do well to emulate their desperation.
A Real Relationship
These people had a concrete relationship with G‑d. To them, G‑d was not an idea, He was real. A force, a power, a lord that protected them, smote their enemies and saved them from peril. They saw G‑d with their eyes, not just their minds and imaginations.
When they were hungry, G‑d showered manna from heaven. When they were thirsty, G‑d made water gush from a rock. When they were in danger, G‑d split an ocean. When they were inspired, G‑d appeared on a mountain top and taught them as a teacher addresses his pupils. When they had needs, G‑d provided. When they prayed, they knew whom they were talking to. A simple maidservant at the Reed Sea could perceive a level of G‑dliness that the prophet Isaiah could not grasp.
And who made G‑d real for them? Moses. He was the medium between G‑d and man. He stood fearlessly at the sea and waved his staff. He stood at the gates of Egypt and rallied the nation to Exodus. He brought Pharaoh to his knees with ten plagues. Moses climbed a mountain and delivered G‑d’s message. Moses, half human, half Divine, as the sages testified,1 was their bridge to G‑d.
And suddenly, Moses went missing. True, it had been merely six hours, but when something precious goes missing, you panic before long. When they contemplated G‑d, they grew physically excited. Their heartrate increased, their pulse accelerated. They exulted in joy, shrank in awe, melted in love. Their relationship with G‑d was ecstatic, passionate and genuine. To have that taken away was absolutely frightening.
It is easy to condemn them for the golden calf, but we can’t condemn them for the desperation that drove them to build it. We have never felt so desperate for G‑d because we never had that kind of relationship with G‑d. You have to have it, to lose it. If you never had it, you can’t mourn its loss.
Desperate for G‑d
To what could they look forward? To a lifetime of believing in G‑d, but never seeing Him. To making do with seeing G‑d in the constancy of nature, the infrequent miracles and the unusual coincidences. They would need to contend with skeptics who doubted the existence of G‑d. They would need to be satisfied with the occasional burst of inspiration or clarity, but for the most part, G‑d would be opaque. An idea to believe in, rather than a Being to connect with. What kind of life would that be?
We know exactly what kind of life that is. It is the one we live. Do we feel confined by it? Do we feel desperate to break free? No. We have never known any different. If we don’t feel the panic and desperation that they felt, how dare we judge them for it? We can disapprove of what they did—it was absolutely forbidden—but we can’t judge them for how they felt.
On the contrary, we should try to emulate what they felt, recapture some of what they had. We should not be content with the spirituality we have been fed. We should yearn for more, for a grander, broader and deeper understanding of G‑d. Why should we be content with what frightened our ancestors?
They built a golden calf in the hopes of manifesting the spirit of G‑d in something concrete, as it had been concretized and realized for them by Moses. They never intended to reject G‑d by making the calf.2 They hoped G‑d would endow the calf with His Divine spirit and let it serve as a bridge for them to an empirical relationship with G‑d. They wanted the calf to provide what Moses always had.
This is forbidden in Jewish law because it deifies a graven image. It was forbidden and they were punished. We make no excuses for their behavior and we don’t attempt to whitewash it. But when we look back, we should do more than judge what they did. We should consider what led them to such desperate measures and try to recapture some of that spirit.
Not Enough
If there is anything to learn from the people who built the golden calf, it is this. Lacking a real relationship with G‑d is frightening. We need to learn about G‑d and know Him as much as possible. We need to think about G‑d and learn to see Him in everything. We need to pray to G‑d and feel him listening. We need to trust in G‑d as we would trust a parent who provides for us.
We should feel what our ancestors felt when they were driven to build a golden calf. But we should never build it. Instead, we should learn how to make G‑d real in the way that He tells us to.
Rabbi Lazer Gurkow is spiritual leader of Congregation Beth Tefilah in London, Ontario, and a frequent contributor to The Judaism Website—Chabad.org. He has lectured extensively on a variety of Jewish topics, and his articles have appeared in many print and online publications. For more on Rabbi Gurkow and his writings, visit InnerStream.ca.
FOOTNOTES
1.Midrash Devarim Rabbah 11:4.
2.See Ramban, Rashban and Or Hachayim on Exodus 32:1. For an explanation in English, see Samson Raphael Hirsch.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
Story
The Story of Jacks by Eli Landes
Let's tell a story, shall we?
This story’s about a young man named Jack. Jack struggles. It’s how he defines himself, how he classifies his existence. He struggles with depression, he struggles with relationships, he struggles with self-esteem, he struggles with motivation. His is a tale of unfulfilled dreams and frustrated hopes. He's bitter, broken and crushed.
Jack doesn’t remember the last time he had a plan. Plans are for those who believe they can achieve, that with enough perseverance they can make things happen. Jack doesn’t believe that anymore. He’s made too many plans, dreamed too many dreams, only to see them crumble to nothing under the weight of his wrecked life. He doesn’t plan anymore because he’s too tired to dream. Instead, Jack stumbles through a haze of endless battles, one bitter hurdle after another to be eventually defeated, only to be replaced by the next one.
One day, Jack meets a young Jewish man who asks him if he's Jewish. Jack replies yes; the man asks him if he wants to put on tefillin. Jack declines, but asks some questions about Judaism. The young man tells him about a religion with a place for every Jew, a G‑d with an infinite love for all His children. He tells him that G‑d waits for him, that He's a father wanting to know him. Jack thanks him, but secretly, he doesn't believe the young man. The young man doesn't know him, he has no idea of the wreck, the hopeless mess that he is. If he did, he would know that no religion would want him. He knows this, because even he doesn’t want to be him.
He walks home, more dejected than ever.
Pause. Zoom out. Let's try a different approach. Zoom in.
This story's about a young man named Jack. Soft-spoken and well-mannered, Jack impresses people with his serious, introspective approach to life. He wasn’t always like that; there was a time when he saw the world as black and white, a simple matter requiring little thought. Yet time's travails have taught him that naiveté and ignorance are poor defense against implacable facts. Instead of pointlessly hoping things were different, he's learned to accept life as it is, to accept himself for who he is. He’s lived a hard life, and matured from it.
When Jack meets a young Jewish man who talks to him about Judaism, he finds himself curious. The Jew tells him that Judaism is the truth, that it's a tradition handed down from Moses through an unbroken chain of generations. He explains that it shows us the meaning of life, our purpose on this world. The words speak to Jack, igniting something inside of him. He's intrigued, and wants to know more. As he walks home, he determines to find out more about his religion.
Pause. Zoom out. Zoom in.
Jack’s a popular fellow. Whenever he enters a room, people stop, gathering close in eager anticipation of entertainment. Jack never disappoints: with an easy smile and a breezy attitude, he regales his audience with a seemingly endless repertoire of jokes and gags. No matter the crowd, Jack can make them laugh (do they see?), his own laughter joining them (do they see that I have to laugh?), his voice rising louder than all in as he laughs hysterically (desperately have to laugh) at himself, tears streaming down his face as he doubles over and clutches his knees and shakes with mirth (yes, mirth, that's what it is, that's what it is, that's what it is). He jokes, he laughs, never having to think a serious thought, never quite daring, and when he starts to think he laughs, he laughs and laughs because he knows, deep inside, that if he would think then things wouldn't be so ha ha ha funny now, no no no, that if he would think he wouldn't laugh anymore, that he would start to think about his life and what he is and who he is and where he’s going and then things would become something else entirely (I can't, I can't, I can't).
So Jack laughs.
Jack and the young Jew immediately hit it off, Jack entertaining him with his vast armory of various jokes. Finally, the young Jew gets a chance to tell him about Judaism, about how it enriches and illuminates one’s life. For a moment, just a moment, Jack’s smile slips, and for just that moment a different look takes his face, a dark one, a scared one. Then the moment’s gone, and Jack’s back. He laughs, thanking the Jew for his time, but he doesn’t intend to ever look into it. This Judaism sounds far too deep and reflective, and he doesn’t like reflective, he’s a joker, reflection is for losers, reflection is for those who like what they see, who don’t reflect and see cracks and breaks and rust and (happy place, Jack, happy place) . . .
Pause. Zoom out. Zoom in.
Jack’s considering writing a book, detailing the various struggles and hurdles he’s been through and how he’s overcome them. He’s persevered with a fiery will and an indomitable conviction, knowing deep down that nothing is stronger than him. Though he’s faced many challenges, he’s grown to see them as a blessing, an opportunity to grow and reveal the strength of his character. Already his story is famous, people listening with open-mouthed inspiration as this valiant fighter tells his unwillingness to know defeat.
When Jack meets the young Jew, the Jew tells him of the struggles the Jews have faced, how they’ve persevered despite seemingly insurmountable odds. He tells him about a burning fire that cannot be quenched, an innate, desperate need that does not know boundaries and limitations. Jack listens and finds that he relates, that in this sometimes sorrowful, sometimes triumphant tale of a nation’s journey he can find expression for his pain. He listens and knows that, at long last, he’s found the goal he’s always been fighting for.
Jack knows that he's found his place.
Pause.
Jack leans back in his chair and sighs. Silently, he stares at his computer, willing the words that he can't seem to find to appear on the screen. When a friend had suggested writing a fictionalized version of himself, he'd pounced on the idea, certain that he could express himself better through fiction than facts. But ever since this morning—ever since he met the young Jew—he's not been able to concentrate. He can't seem to decide which version of himself he wants to create. And, for reasons he still can't explain, he seems to find it necessary to insert the meeting with the Jew into every version he writes.
As he tries to regain his concentration, he finds himself wondering if he should look more into what the young Jew had talked to him about. If someone had asked him a day earlier, he would have said that religion was the farthest thing from his mind. He knew who he was, and religion had no place in that picture. Yet, somehow, one small meeting has shaken that. He's beginning to question how similar his perception of himself is to the fake Jacks on his screen. The four fictionalized versions of himself all tell the same story; the same events happen to all of them. All that changes is how they view themselves—whether they judge themselves as a failure or a fighter, whether they accept themselves for who they are or instead run from the truth. Yet despite it being the same story, it is their perception of themselves that decides their actions. Has he done the same—has he limited himself unnecessarily?
For a moment, Jack feels like he can zoom out, that he can see his life stretched before him. As he watches, he sees countless events unfurl before him, some causing him to redefine himself—here as a success, there as a hypocrite. They're all true, at least for a time, but time and time again, life shows him that he is so much more.
As the image fades, as he begins to zoom back in to the present, he realizes that all the versions of Jack he's written about are real, at some point in his life. He's all of them; he's none of them. He's captive to his limitations and freed by his possibilities. He fights and he struggles and he sometimes wins and he sometimes loses, but none of those describe him.
Who’s Jack?
Jack’s whoever he lets himself be.
Eli Landes was ordained as a rabbi in South Africa, and is working to complete his Bachelor of Arts. Currently residing in Brooklyn, N.Y., he enjoys blending the esoteric depths of Chassidus with the creativity of writing.
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 Elusive Horse by Yanki Tauber

Chabad-Chassidic teaching discusses two levels of knowledge: "positive knowledge" and "negative knowledge". Positive knowledge is when you understand something; negative knowledge is when there is something beyond your comprehension and you understand what it is that you do not understand. Negative knowledge is higher than positive knowledge, since the most difficult thing for the human mind to comprehend are its own limits. But higher yet, say the Chassidic masters, is a third level: understanding that there are truths that are beyond the domain of "negative knowledge" as well; comprehending that you cannot even comprehend what it is that you do not comprehend. Chassidim would illustrate with the following parable:
The story is told of a group of coachmen in a small town in the backwoods of Russia who heard some disturbing news from the big city. Frightening things were happening in the world: bands of iron were being laid across the plains and forests of Russia, upon which an iron monster, who ate coal and spewed fire and smoke, would move three times faster than the fleetest team of horses. It was said that this demon could pull a hundred iron coaches and thousands of passengers. No longer would anyone need to hire a coach and coachman to go from town to town. No longer will merchants negotiate the price of a wagon to take their wares to the market in Leipzig. People were already travelling from Moscow to Petersburg in this manner, and soon these roads of iron will connect every town in Russia.
"And how many horses does this machine use?" asked Misha, the oldest and ablest of the coachmen. "None whatsoever," said Grisha, who was the source of the news. "That's the whole point: no horses, and no coachmen." "Impossible," said Misha with authority. "A hundred iron coaches, no horses? Impossible!"
"But here's the letter from my cousin from Smolensk. He writes that the iron rails have already reached the city, and that next month the first of these machines will arrive from Moscow." After much debate, the coachmen decided to travel to the city and see for themselves.
At the appointed time, they stood at the edge of the crowd that had gathered on the platform at the newly erected station. They heard it before they saw it, an unearthly sound of crashing metal and a thousand charging bulls. And then, in a huge cloud of black smoke, it appeared: a line of iron coaches, stretching as far as the eye could see, traveling faster than the mightiest horse, a shrieking iron monster at their head. It pulled up alongside the cheering crowd, let go a final ear-piercing wail, and died.
As the crowd surged towards the train, the coachmen remained rooted to the ground, mouths agape, stunned to the very core of their souls. Misha was the first to recover. Ignoring the train of carriages and their disembarking passengers, he boldly approached the engine. Carefully he circled the still shuttering monster, running his eyes over every inch of its surface. He peered into the engineer's cabin and crouched between the wheels to examine the undercarriage. Muttering to himself, he rejoined his fellow coachmen on the platform.
"Amazing!" he kept saying to himself. "What a horse! What a horse!"
"A horse?" asked his colleagues.
"Of course," said the veteran coachman. "There's got to be a horse hidden somewhere in there. Think of it -- a horse, probably no bigger than a kitten, who can pull one hundred iron coaches. What a horse!"
Yanki Tauber is content editor of Chabad.org.
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
Loaves of Love by Chana Scop
He stands at the table.
He looks sad, despondent.
And my heart aches.
As tumbling emotions combine with a reopening of wounds, my eyes fill with tears.
The Shabbat candles flicker, while casting a warm, peaceful glow on my family’s faces.
And there he stands, now pointing to theHe looks sad, despondent challah.
You see, challah is Chaim Boruch’s favorite food in the whole world. In fact, I always had to bake two batches, totaling 14 challahs, just so he would have enough for French toast on Sunday, if any loaves were left by then.
My favorite part of the week was when Chaim Boruch walked in the door from school and saw the table set for Shabbat. “Aaaahhhhhh” was his reaction every time, as he made a beeline for the mounds of freshly baked challahs.
And I knew. I knew it all along, as his eyes locked with mine, that he tasted my love and he appreciated it.
No, it wasn’t always easy making so many large batches of dough—especially on some very exhausting Fridays—but this was important to Chaim Boruch ... and to me, too.
But now, his feeding tube has taken the place of chewing and savoring the taste of many foods—but primarily, the taste of Shabbat and love.
And now, a part of me sinks into that gloomy, dark place. That part of my heart that has its own journey of healing, that part that still bakes challah for him ... because I know one day, he will once again taste my loaves of love.
Over the flickering Shabbat flames, our eyes lock, and I can see he feels that I understand just how hard this is.
And every week, I say the same words, while we cuddle and hug: “I promise, one day, very soon, Mommy will bake you the BIGGEST challah in the whole, wide world.”
And he smiles that brilliant smile. He flashes that grin that soothes the ache in my heart, and we share this special moment of hopes and dreams that we pray will soon come true.We share this special moment of hope
Challah. The dough that sustains. That nourishes. That is the epitome of giving, of separating a portion of ourselves for a higher purpose.
The dough that bonds a mother to her child. A heart to a soul. And now, a dream to a vision.
Yes, very soon, Mommy will bake you the BIGGEST challah in the entire world. With the BIGGEST measure of love.
For you, for life, for miracles.
For dreams that come true.
Chana is a proud wife and mother of eight living in Mill Valley, California. She is inspired by the colors and textures of everyday life, and loves sharing her creative ideas with her community. Chana writes DIY projects, crafts and recipes celebrating her Jewish life and shlichus on her blog Chana’s Art Room, and is the co-director of Chabad of Mill Valley with her husband, Rabbi Hillel Scop. To read more about Chaim Boruch, and Chana’s journey, take a look at her personal special-needs blog, Life of Blessing.
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
For the Person with Too Many Social Commitments by Rosally Saltsman
Dear Rachel,
Overwhelmed, overscheduled, overstressed, overcommitted, that’s me!
Thank G‑d, I have a large extended family and many friends, and I'm active in the community. I must go to a shivah, a brit, two weddings and two bar mitzvahs a week! That’s besides volunteer work and the regular commitments to my own family. When I started keeping Shabbat, I said, “Yay, now I’ll have a day off!” But Shabbat also entails endless obligations, from Kiddush luncheons to visiting friends, hosting guests and going to classes. I’m just exhausted, burnt out and at my wits’ end. My husband says to cut myself some slack and do less. But what social obligations does he want me to cut out exactly? Please help!
Fading Fast
Dear Miss Popularity,
You must be a very friendly and social person to interact so successfully with so many people. You seem to be quite the extrovert, but even extroverts need their downtime. If you’re experiencing burnout, then you’re husband’s right—you have to cut back.
The solution is multi-layered: evaluate, prioritize and time-manage.
Evaluate
Usually, people are so busy being busy that they’re not aware of what they’re actually doing. I suggest that for two weeks you make a list of everything you do and how long each activity takes you. Include preparation time. If you stop by a wedding after work to stay for the chuppah, say “mazal tov” and then go home, it’s a whole different ballgame than if you go home, change and have to drive two hours to a wedding out of town. Then, on a scale of 1-10, rate each activity according to how long it takes you. You can’t have 17 tens!
Also, differentiate between the social commitments you enjoy keeping and the ones you feel obligated to attend. Do all of them require your personal presence, or would sending flowers, a gift or good wishes be enough? Do you have to go to the funeral and the shivah (seven days of mourning), or can you just go to one? Do you need to go to the engagement party, the wedding, and the sheva brachot (seven celebrations after a wedding)? Is your volunteering out of the house infringing on your time with your own family?
We all have limited time and energy—so are you spending it in conjunction with your core values? Using time wisely is a very important precept in Judaism. (We are commanded to break all but three laws in the Torah to extend a person’s life for even one minute longer, as a person can use that minute to do a mitzvah.) By taking stock of how you spend your time, you’ll be better able to prioritize your activities. Because every minute counts.
Prioritize
There is a well-known story of a professor who stood in front of his class with an empty jar, and sand, pebbles and big rocks. How could he fit it all into the jar? When he tried to put in the sand and pebbles first, the big rocks wouldn’t fit. The big rocks—your major commitments and priorities—come first, and then you can fit in the smaller obligations (the sand and pebbles).
Family comes before friends, friends come before community, making a living comes before volunteering. For example, your child’s school recital takes precedence over an acquaintance’s wedding, and preparing properly for Shabbat comes before having guests. See which people and activities are really not that important to you and let some go. By sacrificing the minor relationships, you’ll be able to invest more in the major ones.
Above all, you need to take care of yourself before you can take care of the world. As Hillel said, “If I am not for myself, who is for me?” Or as flight attendants put it, you need to put your oxygen mask on first before helping anyone else with his. This means eating right, getting enough sleep, exercising, and yes, enjoying yourself and doing things you like to do. Of course, there’ll be exceptions (when you have a newborn, you can’t expect eight hours of sleep ...), but in general, you can’t fill anyone else up if you’re not full yourself. Spend your time on activities and with people who energize you, not drain you of energy.
Time-Management
Schedule according to priority. Make a list of things you need to do each day/week/month and schedule them into a calendar. Whenever someone asks you to do something or be somewhere, look at your calendar. If that time slot is already filled, you can’t do it unless it takes priority over your scheduled activity.
Plan for bumps in the road. Always add 10 to 15 minutes to your estimate of how long an activity will last. That way, you won’t be rushed if something holds you up.
Verify the start time beforehand. If you know a chuppah, class or meeting will really start a half hour later than scheduled, take that into account.
Set limits for social interactions. If a friend calls and you only have 10 minutes, tell her you only have 10 minutes. She won’t be offended and you won’t be stressed. If you go to an event, decide beforehand how long you’ll stay. You don’t have to be the one to shut off the lights!
Limit your time on social media. It’s a big time-guzzler! Decide how much (if any) time you spend on your emails and Facebook each day, and don’t overstep that bound.
Schedule “me time.” Schedule time to just be, walk in nature, nurse a cup of coffee or have a conversation with someone near and dear.
Be realistic about what you can do.
Recharge on Shabbat. Have guests for only one meal, only pay one social call, or go to only one class or group once a month. Shabbat is for resting and bonding with your family. Also, you may find it relaxing to go away for Shabbat once in awhile
Our most valuable commodity is time. And as we get older, it becomes more valuable because it becomes more depleted. We need to use our time wisely for activities that give us the biggest payoff, emotionally, spiritually and physically.
Thank you for your time,
Rachel
Rosally Saltsman is a freelance writer originally from Montreal living in Israel.
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.
Lifestyle
Kosher Winter Comfort Food: Delicious Meatballs with Aromatic Mushroom Sauce by Miriam SzokovskiThis is one of my favorite one-bowl winter dinners. What could be better than pillowy meatballs, mushroom sauce, and fluffy rice? It's the ultimate comfort food.

The most important thing in this recipe is to use fresh mushrooms for the sauce. They make it flavorful and aromatic, in a way that canned mushrooms cannot.

The other thing to keep in mind is not to overcook the meatballs. After you drop them into the sauce, make sure it's simmering very gently so the meatballs don't fall apart.
Another option is to make this as a meat and mushroom sauce. Instead of rolling the mixture into balls, drop the ground meat into the mushroom sauce and stir while it cooks to make sure it doesn't clump together.
This recipe is also a great alternative for those who are allergic or sensitive to tomatoes and can't eat the traditional meatballs in tomato sauce.

Mushroom Sauce Ingredients:
2 lb. mushrooms, sliced
2-4 tbsp. olive oil
1-2 tsp. kosher salt
4 cups unsweetened almond milk
2 tbsp. soy sauce
8 oz. Rich Whip non-dairy topping
Mushroom Sauce Directions:
Lightly sauté the mushrooms in oil and salt.
Add the almond milk and bring to a boil. Simmer for half an hour.
Add the non-dairy creamer and soy sauce and simmer for another few minutes.
Meatball Ingredients:
2 lb. ground beef
½ cup breadcrumbs
½ cup water or non-dairy milk
½ an onion, finely diced
2 cloves of garlic, crushed
1 tsp. kosher salt
pinch of basil
pinch of oregano
Meatball Directions:
Put the breadcrumbs and water (or non-dairy milk) into a small bowl for 10 minutes until soggy. Gently mix the wet breadcrumbs with the rest of the meatball ingredients until just combined.
Roll the meat mixture into evenly sized balls and drop into the gently simmering sauce. Cook covered for 20 minutes, until cooked through. Do not overcook, or cook on too high, or the meatballs will fall apart.
Serve over fresh rice. Garnish with fresh herbs.

What's your favorite winter comfort food?
PS. If you haven’t yet entered our free cookbook giveaway, you have until 11:59 PM EST tonight (Thursday, February 25, 2016) to do so. Click here and follow the instructions outlined at the end of the post.
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.
Lifestyle
Art of the Week: The Golden Calf By Yoram Raanan

When the people saw that Moses was late in coming down from the mountain, the people gathered against Aaron, and they said to him: "Come on! Make us gods that will go before us… And all the people stripped themselves of the golden earrings that were on their ears… He took [them] from their hand[s], fashioned it with an engraving tool, and made it into a molten calf, upon which they said: "These are your gods, O Israel, who have brought you up from the land of Egypt!" (Exodus 32:1-4)
Painted with a limited palette of black, red and ochre creates a feeling of drama. When first looking at the painting one sees a bright light coming out of the darkness, and then we notice the (faceless) face of a golden calf. The play between light and darkness is heightened by the contrasting colors.
When Moses went up the mountain to receive the tablets and did not materialize on the fortieth day as promised, the people rebelled. At their insistence, Aaron collected their gold jewelry and made a Golden Calf. Biblical commentators disagree as to how this came about. One dominant opinion holds that Aaron threw the gold pieces into the fire and from the molten gold a calf emerged.1
Regardless of their reasoning, the Golden Calf was an abomination before G‑d. As the Tablets shattered, the light of redemption dimmed and was concealed. In time, G‑d forgave the Israelites. The Tabernacle was part of the repair for the golden calf. New Tablets were carved, and together with the broken tablets, were later placed in the ark in the Holy of Holies. The gold of the Tabernacle is seen as atonement for the making of the golden calf.2 The similarity of the calf and the Tabernacle is that both come from fire and are constituted from gold. Gold is a color of lust and glitter, but in the Sanctuary, the golden fire of sacrifice was about turning the lust back to God.
Another ritual performed in the Sanctuary involved the ashes of a red heifer, a cow that had to be uniformly red. The fact that a cow was used in this ritual is no accident and was also considered part of the rectification for the sin of the Golden Calf.3
Yoram Raanan takes inspiration from living in Israel, where he can fully explore and express his Jewish consciousness. The light, the air, the spirit of the people and the land energize and inspire him. His paintings include modern Jewish expressionism with a wide range of subjects ranging from abstract to landscape, biblical and Judaic.
FOOTNOTES
1.Rashi.
2.Shemot Rabba 51:6.
3.Rashi.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
Jewish News
Teen Table-Tennis Star Chooses Shabbat Over Olympics by Faygie Levy Holt
Estee Ackerman, 14, of Long Island, N.Y., competed earlier this month in the U.S. Olympic Trials in Table Tennis, which were held in Greensboro, N.C. She is currently ranked 14th in the nation.
She’s only 14, but earlier this month, Estee Ackerman became a member of a very exclusive club when the Shabbat-observant teen participated in the U.S. Olympic Trials.
Her sport? Table tennis, in which she is ranked No. 14 in the country.
What is perhaps even more impressive is that the teenager, who lost her first two chances to make the team in competitions on Thursday, Feb. 4, and Friday, Feb. 5, forfeited a final chance the following day because it fell on Shabbat, the Jewish day of rest.
“I was disappointed; I love playing on such a big stage and the beautiful crowds that come to watch,” she said days later from her home in Long Island, N.Y. “But as much as I love table tennis ... not playing on Shabbos is a greater reward.
“When I decided I wasn’t going to play on Saturday, I said I do have two tries. I feel I made the right decision,” affirmed Estee, a ninth-grader at Yeshiva University High School for Girls. “And it was a great feeling when I came back home to New York, and had my whole community supporting me and my decision.”

The teenager had three chances to make the Olympic team.
The U.S. Olympic Trials in Table Tennis were held in Greensboro, N.C., where Rabbi Yosef and Hindy Plotkin serve as co-directors of the Chabad-Lubavitch center there. The couple provided Estee and her father, Glenn Ackerman, with kosher food during their stay, in addition to home hospitality on Shabbat. Estee’s mother and older brother, Chanie Ackerman and Akiva Ackerman, did not accompany them on this trip.
“It was so nice to stay there,” said Estee. “When we go and travel, we really stick with Chabad. As always, whatever state we are in, we have somewhere to go.”
The Plotkins were equally as charmed by the high-schooler. “I thought she was incredible,” said Hindy Plotkin. “That she forfeited her third chance to try out for the Olympics, it’s pretty amazing.”
The Plotkins, who have four children between the ages of 1 and 7, even went to cheer Estee on during her competition. They also asked her to speak to students at the American Hebrew Academy, a Jewish boarding school in Greensboro, and to the local community while she was there.
“I was very honored,” said Estee. “I told people my story of why I was there and how I don’t compete on Shabbos. I hope they enjoyed it.”
She needn’t have worried; her message seemed to resonate soundly with those who heard it, including some who are not Shabbat-observant themselves. As Hindy Plotkin related, “a lot of people emailed me after Shabbat, telling me they were touched and impressed with her determination at a young age. That she’s 14 and has such strong values, for them, coming from a different place [religiously], that’s really quite amazing.”

Estee lost the first two matches on a Thursday and Friday, and decided not to compete in the third one on Saturday. “I was disappointed,” she acknowledged. “But as much as I love table tennis, not playing on Shabbos is a greater reward.”
‘It’s Been a Journey’
This was the second time in her young career that Estee has forfeited her chance at improving her standing to observe Shabbat. The first time was in 2012, when she was participating in U.S. National Table Tennis Championships and one of her matches was scheduled on a Friday night.
While she will play leisurely with friends on a Shabbat afternoon, competing in a tournament with a uniform, scoring and all that goes with it just isn’t the same thing, she said: “What it came down to for me was that it wasn’t in the spirit of Shabbat.”
“We knew in advance that Estee would have only two chances to make the USA Olympic Team instead of three, as the third day of competition would be on Shabbos,” said her father, Glenn Ackerman. “I told Estee that I believed that she would make it on her first chance, and that she shouldn’t worry about anything else except the match she was playing. The reward one gets in heaven for proper Shabbos observance is infinitely greater than anything in this world. We love table tennis, but we love Orthodox Judaism more.”
As a Jewish day-school student, Estee juggles her table-tennis playing—she spends at least 12 hours a week training, not to mention traveling for competitions—with a dual curriculum of both Judaic and secular studies.
“It definitely has not been easy; it’s been a journey,” she said. “I’m blessed and thankful that my school loves what I do, and supports me in all my tournaments. When I go away and miss a week of school, the teachers help me make up the work. And having a school of 300 students behind me and cheering for me and happy for me is definitely a big motivation.”
For now, it’s back to the juggling as she continues to practice her sport and keep her studies a priority. And should she decide to go for it, the 2020 Olympic Games are only four more years away.

Estee with Rabbi Yosef Plotkin, co-director of Chabad-Lubavitch of Greensboro, N.C., and three of his four children who came to cheer her on. The Ackermans make a habit of eating and staying with Chabad families when Estee travels for competitions.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
Jewish News
Antonin Scalia Remembered as an Advocate for Religious Freedom by Yaakov Ort and Menachem Posner
Justice Antonin Scalia, left, with Rabbi Adin Even-Israel (Steinsaltz) at a 2014 dialogue at the Jewish Heritage Museum in New York, moderated by Professor Noah Feldman, right, of Harvard Law School. (Photo: Aleph Society)
U.S. Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, who passed away on Feb. 13 at the age of 79, is being remembered as a champion of freedom of religious expression with a deep appreciation for Jewish law, who was a thoughtful and enthusiastic participant in legal symposia on Jewish and American jurisprudence during his tenure on the court.
“When there was no Jewish justice on the Supreme Court, I considered myself the Jewish justice,” Scalia once told legal scholar and attorney Nathan Lewin.
Lewin, a friend and classmate of Scalia’s at Harvard Law School, had argued a number of cases before the Supreme Court, including County of Allegheny v. ACLU in 1989, when Scalia was part of the majority in a landmark ruling that a menorah erected by Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries could stand on public property.
Lewin said that after Scalia’s appointment by President Ronald Reagan in 1986, he saw himself as “the guardian of the Jewish heritage within the Supreme Court” since no Jewish justice sat on the court between the resignation of Justice Abe Fortas in 1969 and the 1993 appointment of Ruth Bader Ginsburg by President Bill Clinton. Although diametrically opposed on most legal issues, Ginsburg recalled that she and Scalia remained “best friends” during more than 20 years of working together.
Scalia’s interest in Jewish law was longstanding. Lewin said Scalia believed that much of Lewin’s legal acumen was rooted in a lifelong study of the Talmud. He also pointed out that “the justice’s admiration for Jews and Jewish learning explains the frequent references in his opinions to the Talmud and other Jewish sources, and the significant number of Orthodox Jewish law clerks he hired.”
“I recall a 2009 decision (Caperton v. A.T. Massey Coal Co., 556 U.S. 868, 901),” continued Lewin, noting that Scalia occasionally cited the Talmud in his opinions, “where Justice Scalia concluded a dissent by quoting the English translation of ‘hafoch ba ve-hafoch ba, ki kulo ba’–‘Turn it over, and turn it over, for everything is in it,’(Avot 5:24).”
In his first public participation in a formal symposium on Jewish and constitutional law, Scalia was a panelist and keynote speaker in 1995 at the National Conference on Jewish and Contemporary Law in Los Angeles, attended by some 500 judges, attorneys, law professors and rabbis. Also on the panel and also delivering a keynote address was Rabbi Adin Even-Israel (Steinsaltz) of Jerusalem. Both scholars spoke of the contrasts between the two legal traditions. Earlier in the day, Even-Israel (Steinsaltz) and Scalia led a closed seminar for judges on “The Art of Judging.”
In later years, Even-Israel (Steinsaltz) and Scalia would participate in a number of joint symposia on Jewish and civil law, including a 2014 dialogue at the Museum of Jewish Heritage in New York.

Nathan Lewin, left, and Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, third from left, with restaurant owners Sima Soumekhian and Marc Zweben in Washington, D.C. (Photo: Alyza Lewin)
‘The Unique Dynamics of Jewish Law’
As part of the 1995 symposium, Scalia began the main session with a story of the Baal Shem Tov, the founder of the Chassidic movement, recalled event organizer Rabbi Dovid Eliezrie, director of the North County Chabad Center in Southern California. “He arrived with a profound sense of inquiry and came to understand the unique dynamics of Jewish law. It was rooted in his deep sense of intellectual curiosity,” said Eliezrie.
Rabbi Nachman Levine, an academic and educator who attended the symposium, recalled that true to his reputation, Scalia was “very funny” and made it a point to speak in a booming baritone so that everyone could hear him during Shabbat, when there were no microphones as they could not be used by Jewish participants.
Levine recalled that since Scalia’s approach to constitutional law was rooted in understanding and not tampering with the original intent of its founders, a fair amount of discussion centered around the Oven of Akhnai. In this Talmudic lesson, the sages determined that even though miracles and heavenly voices supported the opinion of one rabbi, the final law followed the rule of the majority of sages.
“He was very clearly familiar with the story and how this Jewish legal principle of majority rule among expert judges—and not even Divine signs—serves as the foundation for Jewish jurisprudence,” said Levine.
“I asked one of the judges at the Shabbat table how many jurors would need to vote guilty for O.J. Simpson, who was then on trial for murder, to be convicted,” recalled Levine. “The Jewish judge said it would need to be unanimous. I said that in Jewish law, if the verdict was unanimous, then the plaintiff would walk.”
The judge called out, “Nino! [Justice Scalia’s nickname] You hear that? In Jewish law, if the jury is unanimous, he walks!”
“Scalia slapped the table so hard that the gefilte fish flew and said, “I like that! Let me think it through ... of course: It’s a Jewish court. If everyone agrees, something is wrong!”
Scalia then asked if the Jewish judges could “see each other’s cards.”
“What if one person saw that everyone voted guilty, and he holds that the accused is innocent? Maybe he should vote guilty to get the guy acquitted?” mused Scalia. “He was so quick!” said Levine.

Scalia with students and Rabbi Noach Heber, center, program director, and Rabbi Yehoshua Metzger, right, co-director of Chabad Lubavitch of Midtown Manhattan, at a 2009 daylong conference of the Institute of American and Talmudic Law held at the Chabad center.
On Private and Public Rights
In 2002, Scalia spoke at the National Institute of Jewish Law’s inaugural event at the Supreme Court in Washington, D.C.
Rabbi Nosson Gurary, director of the Chabad House of Buffalo, N.Y., who then was a professor at the University of Buffalo Law School, recalled at the time speaking to Scalia about the importance of American jurists’ studying other systems, especially one as richly developed as Jewish law. “Knowledge of another legal system helped him to understand [the U.S. legal] system better,” said Gurary.
In 2009, Scalia participated in a daylong conference of the Institute of American and Talmudic Law, held at Chabad Lubavitch of Midtown Manhattan and chaired by Lewin and the dean of the institute, Rabbi Shlomo Yaffe.
In a session on “The Right to Privacy and Individual Liberties From Ancient Times to the Cyberspace Age,” Scalia argued that while there is not necessarily a constitutionally guaranteed right to privacy that protects every detail of a person’s life from being published on the Internet or elsewhere, that freedom should be used responsibly.
“The American right to privacy is a complex and obscure right that the judiciary should tread lightly when analyzing,” Scalia suggested. The justice system, he declared, is meant only to define the rights specifically declared in the Constitution and, if need be, to decide whether the legislature overreached in its interpretation of America’s foundational document of governance.
“The vast majority of [one’s] rights are not constitutional,” Scalia asserted. “Most of them can be taken away.”
Rabbi Yaffe recalled that “Justice Scalia’s intelligence, decency, passion for truth and respect of our Constitution are legendary. Many disagreed with his positions on a broad range of issues, but none doubted his sincerity.”
“Every human society must create a just and equitable legal system—governed not by the personal caprices of the powerful or the mood of the mob, but by the rule of law,” concluded Yaffe. “Justice Scalia devoted his life to this endeavor.”

Rabbi Even-Israel (Steinsaltz) with Justice Scalia in New York City in June 2014. (Photo: The Aleph Society)
‘The Flexibility of His Mind’
Scalia, who was married for 56 years and the father of nine children, was remembered by Lewin and Even-Israel (Steinsaltz) as a warm and engaging individual.
“He and his wife were guests in our sukkah,” recalls Lewin, “and he was kind enough to meet with law-school classes I brought to Washington to hear Supreme Court arguments.
“Zealously liberal students who claimed not to be able to tolerate Scalia’s judicial philosophy melted into personal fans after they met and spoke with the human being,” recalled Lewin. “Rather than meeting the cantankerous grouch they were expecting, they saw and heard from a funny, modest, gregarious and intellectually honest judge.”
Lewin said Scalia would readily accept recommendations to address Orthodox Jewish gatherings, such as colloquia run by Chabad; sessions and dinners with Agudath Israel of America; and a mass meeting at Yeshiva University, where he and Lewin discussed current issues of constitutional law and public policy.
Each event, said Lewin, was “thunderously successful.”
Even-Israel (Steinsaltz) recalled that “in our conversations, I understood something about his brilliance and his efforts to get to a permanent understanding of law. His stance on the Constitution seemed to do with the personality, with his belief in constant and permanent standards, and also with the flexibility of his mind.”
“In his death, America has lost one of its most prominent figures,” the rabbi concluded. “He was very straightforward and very courageous, pleasant, without losing his core. With all the brilliance of his mind, he was, in truth, a believing person and a good man.”
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
Jewish News
Kiryat Arba Couple Faces Danger Daily, Armed With a Lifetime of Lessons by Sarah Leah Lawent
Rabbi Yosef (“Yossi”) Nachshon of Chabad of Kiryat Arba hands out slices of “lekach” (honey cake) to Israel Defense Forces soldiers for Rosh Hashanah, signifying a sweet New Year.
KIRYAT ARBA, ISRAEL—What does it take to thrive, working day in and day out in this town on the outskirts of the biblical city of Hebron, close to the Cave of the Patriarchs, amid daily and sometimes deadly terror attacks?
For Rabbi Yosef (“Yossi”) and Michal Nachshon of Chabad of Kiryat Arba, they say it’s the practical lessons they have been learning since childhood about love of Torah and the Jewish people, and the influence of the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem. M. Schneerson, of righteous memory, on the lives of their parents.
In 1979, when the Israeli government began to permit Jews to take up residence in the area, the Rebbe sent a letter to Nachshon’s father, noted artist Rabbi Boruch Nachshon, about the most effective method of “conquering” Hebron and Kiryat Arba. In those days, there was a struggle over how to physically re-establish a Jewish community in a holy city that has had a Jewish presence for millennia—and a Chabad presence for centuries.
The Rebbe suggested to Baruch Nachshon that the way to “conquer” Hebron and Kiryat Arba was by learning and teaching Torah; nigleh (the revealed levels of the Torah—i.e., the Talmud and halachah, Jewish law); and chassidus, the innermost mystical teachings, interpretations and practice of Judaism as articulated by the Chassidic movement.
At a celebration this past summer marking Chabad of Hebron’s bar mitzvah year, Boruch Nachshon read that letter from the Rebbe, which his son and daughter-in-law said continues to inspire and strengthen the work of Chabad in Hebron and in Kiryat Arba, a town built in 1968 in the Judean Mountains.
Today, the Nachshons, along with six other emissary couples who reside in Kiryat Arba and Hebron, are living in the eye of the storm, weathering terror attacks along with every other local resident.
Nachshon’s own car was recently targeted by rock-wielding masked terrorists after he dropped his children off at their school in nearby Beitar Illit. A cinder block smashed his windshield, though he came out of it unharmed.

Nachshon helps a soldier don tefillin, a main focus of his work as an emissary of the Rebbe.
This was not the first time the rabbi has encountered such hazards. “All of us here—the entire community—have faced this situation on the roads on a daily basis for months now,” reports Nachshon. “It is a trying time, and keeping our eye on the target—learning Torah, performing mitzvot and helping our fellow Jews—is where we invest all of our energies because this is what will bring us through this as a stronger, more unified, G‑d-fearing and inspired community and people.”
For more than 20 years, the rabbi and his family have been living and working to spread the Torah’s teachings in the Givat Harsina neighborhood of Kiryat Arba, where they have become an integral part of the community. The 10-year-old Chabad-run synagogue there provides even more opportunity for the neighbors to meet, hold a minyan and promote Jewish involvement.
“This is where we need to be,” states the rabbi, “and this is what we need to be doing.”

The “mitzvah tank” used by the rabbi to travel to IDF bases and help men wrap tefillin.
Offering Warmth to All
The Nachshons’ primary undertaking is to provide encouragement, education and an open-house environment for the thousands of Israeli Defense Forces soldiers who serve nearby. “There is a full rotation every four months, so the number of both male and female soldiers we come into contact with is enormous,” says Nachshon.
“We find these soldiers thirsty to learn about their roots, and to then take that interest from there and start incorporating it into their lives.”
Michal Nachson—whose parents, Rabbi Ovadya and Yaffa Ma’atuf are Chabad emissaries in Lod—gives classes for women in the community, and on Shabbat meals for troops able to make it over to them.
On Shabbat, it is always “open house” at the Nachshons—for military and civilian guests alike. Many soldiers stand duty on Friday nights, but that doesn’t stop them from getting permission to visit the Nachshon home for a quick Shabbat Kiddush and meal before returning to work.
The rabbi spends a significant amount of time emphasizing the mitzvah of tefillin.
Nachshon explains that he has “been teaching and helping Jewish male soldiers wrap tefillin as part of their daily routine. I also have my ‘mitzvah tank’—a huge vehicle—in which we visit the bases and conduct activities with the hope that our IDF boys will take it upon themselves to perform this important mitzvah. And the results have not only been astounding; they increase from day to day.”

Providing soldiers with the opportuity to shake the lulav and the etrog during Sukkot.
Tefillin, he notes, represents a spiritual defense of Israel, encouraged by the Rebbe. Prior to the Six-Day War in June of 1967, the Rebbe launched the now-famous “Tefillin Campaign” that encourages Jewish men and boys over the age of 13 to perform the mitzvah.
Within the Israeli army, the campaign has resulted in providing thousands of soldiers with the means to don tefillin on a daily basis. Locally in and around Kiryat Arba, two yeshivah boys regularly make the rounds, helping soldiers on bases put them on. And in a program that began more than 10 years ago—in which Rabbi Nachshon partnered with Rabbi Alexander Sender Gurewitz of Lyon, France—a pair of tefillin is offered at no charge to young men who agree to use them every day.
Just last week,” says Nachshon, “we were able to give 14 young men their own pair of tefillin.”
As part of his work with soldiers, military Rabbi Eliyahu Ravoah has joined forces with Nachshon.
“We are approached by a lot by young men who come from very religious or traditional backgrounds whose tefillin somehow gets lost, but neither the young soldier nor his family has the financial means to buy new ones,” explains Ravoah. “We also have young men who never even considered tefillin as part of their lives, who today have incorporated the mitzvah into their daily lives.”

Bags of snacks to be distributed to Israeli soldiers, organized by Chabad of Kiryat Arba.
‘The Way We Can Fight Terror’
Yinon, a member of an elite naval commando unit (who cannot be identified because of his military position), was a boy who had grown up with tefillin and a solid religious education, but moved away from Jewish tradition as he got older, according to his father.
“About six months ago, Yinon told me he had been laying tefillin for months,” recounts his father. “He had lost the ones he received at his bar mitzvah and knew that buying a new pair was beyond our means right now. He learned that Rabbi Nachshon helps obtain tefillin for men who take it upon themselves to do this mitzvah every day.”
Yinon’s father contacted Nachshon; shortly afterwards, the young soldier received his own pair of tefillin. “Through this, I can see him returning to Torah observance in many more ways,” says his father. “And he recognizes that this comes from within him, thank G‑d.”

A lecture for hundreds of women from Kiryat Arba, Hebron and the surrounding area.
Eliran Fadida, a 20-year-old resident of Kiryat Ata, started to put on tefillin about eight months ago after not observing the mitzvah for a number of years. He received a new pair last week from Nachshon. “You can be sure that I will cherish these in a way I didn’t understand the first time around,” he says.
“Every day,” affirms Nachshon, “there are more young men who add themselves to the thousands who have already taken it upon themselves to fulfill this mitzvah.”
“This is the way we can fight terror,” stresses the rabbi, “as well as reconnect ourselves to the Creator by doing the mitzvot He has commanded us to do. And this is what will snatch victory from the jaws of the enemy and deliver it into hands of His children: Torah, mitzvot and love of a fellow Jew.”

Time out for a meal and some learning.

The distribution of High Holiday kits to officers and heads of the security forces in the Hebron region.

Nachshon at center: For more than 20 years, the rabbi and his family have been living and working to spread the Torah’s teachings in the Givat Harsina neighborhood of Kiryat Arba, where they have become an integral part of the community.

Rabbi Yossi and Michal Nachshon, and their family
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.---------------------
"Bar Mitzvah on Death Row: A Texas Rabbi’s Unique Challenge" Chabad Magazine for Wednesday, Adar I 1, 5776 · February 10, 2016
Editor's Note:
Dear Friend,
Like many others, I woke up on Monday to the stark news of the untimely passing of our very own Rabbi Yehoshua B. Gordon, Chabad.org Torah teacher par excellence (read a special letter about him here).
Though I did not work with him as closely as the Jewish.tv team, my mind wandered back to the last time I called him. This past fall, I was working on a story about Tashlich observances all over the world and wanted to talk to him about the indoor fishpond used by his congregation in Encino, California.
I didn’t know it at the time, but he was already suffering from the illness that would take his life, and there I was pestering him about room layout, décor, and the spelling of Weequahic Park, where he went to Tashlich as a child.
There were probably a million important things on his mind, but during that call, he was wholly focused on helping me with my article (which was never published, since I found a more compelling story out of Tallinn, Estonia).
I believe that this focus on others is what made Rabbi Gordon’s classes an instant hit all over the world. Sure he was engrossed in the text he was teaching, but his main focus was on his students, and how he could best impart his lesson to them.
May his memory—and recorded classes—be an inspiration to us all.
Menachem Posner
on behalf of the Chabad.org Editorial Team
The Highest High
There’s no greater high than finding truth on your own.
All worlds were made, all barriers put in place, every veil over truth was hung, and the soul plummeted from its pristine height into the confusion of this harsh world—
—all for this one thing alone: That you should uncover truth on your own.
This Week's Features:

Printable Magazine

Am I Supposed to Be Afraid of G‑d?
How about I just stick to love and wonderment? by Tzvi Freeman
Dear Ask-The-Rabbi Rabbi,
When my grandfather passed away, someone described him as a “G‑d-fearing man.” I’m still trying to digest that one. Is that good or bad? Isn’tG‑d all about love? Why am I supposed to be scared of Him?
[Alvie Nidislov]
Hi Alvie,
Love that question.
I once met a man named Marvin Elkind, who told me he never knew fear—except for once in his lifetime. And Marvin hadn’t exactly led a dull life. His parents had put him in a foster home as a child because he was so belligerent. He had fought as a professional boxer, and once worked as a driver for the biggest gangsters in New York. When I met him, he was secretly working for the Toronto police force, turning in the most dangerous criminals.
But only one thing had ever scared him. What was it?
“I The only time he had ever experienced fear was when driving Golda Meir to a dinner.was a chauffeur in Toronto,” Marvin told me. “And once, my boss had me drive Golda Meir to a dinner.”
“What on earth was scary about that?” I asked.
“You don’t get it? You’re driving down the Bridle Path [the mighty mansion drive of Toronto], and you’ve got Golda Meir in the back seat!”
“Was she pointing a gun at you?”
“Don’t be stupid. She’s Golda Meir! Boy, I was dripping sweat like a racehorse.”
Fear Out of Awe
Some people are afraid of getting a ticket. Others are afraid of getting injured in an accident. Others are afraid their car might get scratched. Marvin didn’t know that kind of fear. Yet he was driving at 20 miles per hour and coming to a full stop at every stop sign, just because Golda Meir was in the back seat. It had nothing to do with consequences. It had everything to do with his state of being. I mean, she’s Golda Meir, and he’s her driver.
So You’re in the driver’s seat, and He’s relying on you to drive your very best.a G‑d-fearing person, like your grandfather, might be someone with that kind of fear. Or let’s call it awe. It’s a state of sustained reverence—a constant awareness that wherever you go, wherever you look, everything is the ongoing glorious work of the Master Creator, and He’s right there, within each event and beyond all of them, both at once. And He’s put you in the driver’s seat, and He’s relying on you to drive your very best.
And so, of course, without having to think of any other reason, you do the right thing, staying well within the two white lines. Just because G‑d is so totally awesome.
Fear Out of Love
That’s one kind of fear of G‑d. There’s another. The fear that emerges out of love.
Imagine you are a small child brought for your first day of preschool. Everything looks fun, the teachers are friendly and loving, and there are plenty of kids and toys to play with. But then, you notice that your mommy or daddy is about to leave. All the fun, toys and new friends are forgotten. You run, screaming, to hold tight to the hand that brought you here.
Child psychologists call that separation anxiety. Child psychologists call that separation anxiety.We are all children of G‑d, and we all fear separation. It’s healthy. It keeps us attached. It keeps us from doing the wrong things—the things that could tear us away from G‑d. And it drives us to do the right things for the right reason: not for selfish or self-centered motives, but because it’s the right thing to do and that’s what our Creator wants of us.
Two Fears in One
The first type of fear is a kind of disappearing act—you feel distant and so small that you don’t take up any space. You feel like a servant.
The second type of fear—fear that emerges from love—is far more intimate and deep. You feel both close and distant, precious and small, both at once. You feel like a child.
Both are crucial. The foremost thought to have in mind, wherever you go, whatever you are doing, is: “I’m not in charge. I didn’t make this place. And, hey, Whoever did has gotta be real big and totally awesome.”
But then, there has to be some sort of relationship between you and this totally big and awesome Master of the Universe. Because if there isn’t, you’re not going to throw your entire being into fulfilling the mission He’s given you. That’s where the relationship, the bonding and the love, comes in.
Yet within every heartbeat of that love, just beneath the surface, lies the knowledge that this love could be broken, this relationship torn to shreds—and you cannot bear the thought, even if just for a moment.
Everything is love. Even fear is love.Even fear is love. Cherish that fear. It will keep you on the straight path and lead you to great heights. And it will ensure that the love deep within your heart will always burn bright.by TZVI FREEMAN

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VIDEO

Can We Be Satan’s Assistants?
Testing fate with your words by Avraham Plotkin
Watch (48:01)

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Our Spiritual Anatomy
What is going on in the consciousness of the human being when we act in ways that we know are clearly wrong? by Shifra Sharfstein
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The Secret of the Jewish Leap Year
This is the lesson from a leap year. We must have a measure of constancy, but must also be flexible and adaptive to change.
Watch (7:20)

http://www.chabad.org/therebbe/livingtorah/player_cdo/aid/257021/jewish/The-Secret-of-the-Jewish-Leap-Year.htm

http://www.chabad.org/257021
YOUR QUESTIONS

Why Don’t Jews Have Open-Casket Funerals?
I always appreciated getting one last look at the deceased . . . by Yehuda Shurpin
Question:
Unfortunately, I recently had occasion to attend a traditional Jewish funeral. I was told that Jews don’t do open-casket funerals or hold viewings. Why is that? I always appreciated being able to get one last look at the deceased before burial.
Reply:
Although some may find it therapeutic, in Judaism the funeral is for the most part devoted to the respect and honor of the deceased, while the period of mourning that follows is primarily for the benefit of the mourners. In fact, one is not supposed to comfort the mourners while their dead still lie before them. Comfort and relief come later, after funeral and burial arrangements have been completed and the dead have been interred.
So although some may find comfort in viewing the dead, this time is focused on the deceased, providing them with a final, dignified sendoff in accordance with Torah tradition.
Additionally, there are a number of issues with open-casket funerals, on practical, halachic and mystical levels.
Gazing at the Dead
The Talmud tells us that it is forbidden to gaze at the face of a dead person. On a basic level, this is so that we do not lose respect for the deceased.1
The Kabbalists explain that one of the reasons we cover the face of the deceased is because a person’s sins are “engraved upon the forehead.” By gazing at the deceased, especially at a time when the soul is still hovering over the body waiting for its final judgement, we can potentially arouse divine prosecution against them, bringing them pain.2
As for the viewers, the Talmud3 tells us that gazing upon the face of the dead can cause one to forget the Torah they learned.4
Preparing the body for viewing also presents very serious halachic problems.
Time Is of the Essence
The preparation takes time, and there is a biblical commandment to bury the deceased as quickly as possible. In fact, even regarding a person who was executed by the courts, the Torah warns that leaving the criminal’s corpse on the gallows overnight is considered a “blasphemy of G‑d.”5 The need for a timely burial is so strong that even the high priest—who zealously avoided all contact with death and impurity—was obligated to perform the burial if no one else was able to.6
The Zohar explains that the soul is in a state of anxiety and anguish until the body is buried, and any delay would increase that anguish.7
Tampering with the Dead
In order to make it look nice, the body is surgically “restored” by manipulating it, inserting various devices to support its features, draining it of all blood and fluids, injecting it with chemicals, covering it with cosmetics, and so on. All of this is strictly forbidden according to Jewish law, which proscribes desecrating a body in any way. In fact, even an autopsy is generally forbidden, unless determining the cause of death will save other lives (such as in a case of poisoning).8
Reuniting with Our Loved Ones
One of the reasons we are so careful about not tampering with the body is that a Jewish burial does not only affect the peace of the soul in the afterlife; it affects our bodies as well. As Jews, we believe that ultimately our bodies and souls will once again come together at the time of the messianic era and the resurrection of the dead.9 Thus, when we provide a proper burial, we are also expressing our belief that we will be reunited with our loved ones with the coming of Moshiach.
May it be speedily in our days!
FOOTNOTES
1.See Talmud, Moed Katan 27a and Horayot 13b, and commentaries ad loc. See also Maavar Yabok, Siftei Renanot 9; Mishneh Berurah 2:2.
2.Maavar Yabok ibid. See there for an additional Kabbalistic reason for not gazing at the dead.
3.Talmud, Horayot 13b.
4.Aside from the mystical aspects of this warning, Rabbi Yedayah ha-Penini (in his Peirush Aggadot to Talmud, Horayot 13b [published in Otzar ha-Peirushim le-Masechet Horayot]) explains on a simple level that when one gazes upon the face of the dead, the memory of his or her face becomes etched in one’s mind, causing one to become so preoccupied with fear of death that it disturbs one’s memory and concentration while learning.
5.Deuteronomy 21:23. See also Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah 357.
6.Deuteronomy 21:22–23; Talmud, Sanhedrin 46b and Rashi ad loc.
7.See Zohar 3:88b.
8.Gesher ha-Chayim, vol. 1, 5:6.
9.See Gesher ha-Chaim ibid., citing the Zohar, Shelach and Pinchas, and Talmud, Sanhedrin 90b. by YEHUDA SHURPIN
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.
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Getting Beyond Kvetch
Judaism offers a 60-day program of outlook modification, and it’s launching internationally . . . by Ari Shishler
It’s so easy to complain.
Sol visits Abe and sees he’s got a new dog.
“So what kind of dog is this?” asks Sol.
“It’s a Jewish dog. His name is Irving,” says Abe.
“Watch this,” continues to Abe. “Irving, fetch!”
Irving walks slowly to the door, then turns around and says, “So why are you talking to me like that? You always order me around like I’m nothing. Then you make me sleep on the floor, with my arthritis . . . you give me this farkakta food with all the salt and fat, and you tell me it’s a special diet . . . you should try eating it! . . . And do you ever take me for a decent walk? No! It’s out of the house, a few steps, and right back home. Maybe if I could stretch out a little, the sciatica wouldn’t kill me so much!”
“That’s amazing!” cries Sol.
“I don’t know,” says Abe. “I think this dog has a hearing problem. I said ‘fetch,’ and he thought I said ‘kvetch.’”
Ever since our 40-year tour in the desert, we Jews have done our fair share of complaining.
Our family is either too meddling or totally unsupportive; our community is too small to be anonymous and too big for me to be significant; the weather’s never right, our salary is insufficient, the government is useless and the country’s going to the dogs.
It’s so easy to fall into this habit, especially when we feel our complaints are justified.
How do you break the kvetch syndrome?
Judaism offers a 60-day program of outlook modification, and it launched internationally last week. It’s called the month of Adar, and this year, being aleap year on the Jewish calendar, it’s here for double the usual time!
The Talmud declares, “When Adar enters, we increase in joy.” Adar is the month of Purim, which commemorates a time when Jews had plenty to complain about. Haman threatened to kill every living Jew, and the mightiest king of that time was on his side.
Funny, those Jews didn’t complain; they became proactive. First, they united—working together is critical. Second, they prayed for a miracle—appreciating Who’s really in charge is powerful. Third, they followed Mordechai—we need strong leadership. Fourth—Esther put a pragmatic plan in motion, and saved the day.
Thanks to their proactive approach, the inevitable tragedy became instead a cause for celebration.
Each Adar, we’re offered that opportunity again. Sure, there’s much to complain about, but Adar is about joy. Joy means that you trust that things can—and will—improve. Joy means that circumstances don’t paralyze you, but that you can generate your own happiness, under any circumstances. Joy is created by working with others, trusting G‑d, learning from our spiritual leaders and doing what needs doing.
Joy comes from active participation, not from armchair grumbling.
We’ve got two months of potential simchah, joy without limitation. Let us grab the opportunity with both hands. by ARI SHISHLER

Rabbi Ari Shishler is the director of Chabad of Strathavon, South Africa
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.
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Happy Are We
Suddenly, a Russian policeman stood before him, blocking his path. Immediately the chassid’s hands were bound . . . by Mirish Kiszner
Darkness enveloped the silent streets of Karlin, Russia. All the Jewish inhabitants had hurried to lock themselves inside their homes. The Russian government had decreed that no Jews be found on the streets after nightfall.
This decree was most difficult for a fiery follower (chassid) of RabbiAharon of Karlin to observe. On one frigid night, this man was overcome with a powerful desire to see his rebbeand to warm his soul by watching the holy man’s service of G‑d. Despite the danger, a magnetic longing drew him from his home . . .
Clutching a Tehillim (book of Psalms) in his hand, the chassid hurried through the streets of Karlin, heading to the home of his rebbe.
Suddenly a Russian policeman stood before him, blocking his path. Immediately the chassid’s hands were bound, and he was unceremoniously dumped into the town jail.
“I A pair of wild hands suddenly snatched the Tehillimwasn’t destined to see my rebbe tonight,” thought the chassid to himself, “but my precious Tehillim has remained with me.” And with that he began to recite the words of Tehillim with warmth and enthusiasm, verse by verse, chapter by chapter.
As the outpouring of prayer ascended to its heavenly place, a pair of wild hands suddenly snatched the Tehillim from him . . .
The chassid remained unruffled. “My rebbe they wouldn’t allow me to see, and my Tehillim they took from me,” he whispered to himself. “Nevertheless, I am a Jew!” A wave of joy washed over him at the thought. He rose to his feet and began to dance.
The prison guard peered at him with unbelieving eyes. But his incredulity gave way to hysterics. “Get out of here right now!” he yelled. “This small jail has no room for mentally unbalanced people!”
In happy spirits, the chassid ran at once to his rebbe. Rabbi Aharon greeted him warmly: “If one is joyous to be a Jew, a part of the Jewish nation, one can be rescued from everything!” by MIRISH KISZNER
Mirish Kiszner is a teacher, counselor and lecturer living in Jerusalem. She’s published hundreds of articles in numerous Jewish publications. Her latest book is Extraordinary Stories about Ordinary People (Artscroll), a collection of true stories about real people.
Image: Detail from a work by chassidic artist Shoshannah Brombacher. To view or purchase Ms Brombacher's art, click here
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WOMEN

Bubby Annie’s Candelabra
I remember 13 years ago. An icy rain like death called to me from the west. I looked out the window in the darkness and shivered. by Linda Goldberg
Bubby Annie’s candelabra, empty of candles, shone on my dining room table.
It was dark when I went to sleep and when I awoke. The winter trees outside my deck still displayed leaves this morning. Green, orange and purple all dripped with rain, as if they cried last night along with me.
My husband Adam’s first yahrtzeit (anniversary of passing) is in seven days. My brother Moishe’s yahrtzeit starts tonight.
I remember 13 years ago. An icy rain like death called to me from the west. I looked out the window in the darkness and shivered.
The next day, a call from Utah: “There was an emergency. Your brother passed away.”
“What do you mean passed away?”
“He didn’t pick up his mail, his pills. A policeman would like to speak with you.”
“Are you Mr. G’s sister? We need to exchange phone numbers.”
I called Adam. He said, “I’ll call the rabbi. He’ll know a Chabad rabbi in Utah.”
My husband took charge and helped the family through the red tape to bring Moishe home for his funeral.
The last time I talked with Moishe, he was having indigestion.
The last words he said to me were, “I am alone, but I am on new pills. I can sleep now. It is quiet.”
Adam arranged for the chevra kaddisha (burial society) to sing psalms.
In the office of the funeral director, Mom chose a casket.
“Drape the American flag over the casket so I won’t see it. We’ll use Hinda’s rabbi. They are planning everything. I cannot have the shivah in my house,” Mom said.
“It can be at my house,” I said.
“We will have a graveside service,” Mom said.
“I want to meet Moishe at the funeral home,” I said.
“Too much, following the casket,” Mom said.
“I’m going. You don’t have to come,” I said. “So he won’t be alone.”
Our rabbi came by the house to talk: “Think of the good he did. Everybody did good.”
Adam said, “He was a U.S. Marine. He lived in Yamit, Israel, before it was torn down. For peace.”
Snow fell on the canopy above the mourners at West Roxbury Cemetery. Moishe’s casket was lowered into his final resting place between our father and Bubby Annie. It was quiet. A good place to be. He was not alone.
My husband is now at peace not far from my parents, grandparents and brother.
In his last visit to the emergency room, I said, “He is dying. He is dying.”
I rubbed his face and said, “You are not alone. You are not alone.”
Even the nurse cried.
With help from the hospital staff, Adam passed away peacefully, with his family around him.
“Adam was a true chassid,” the rabbi said when he came to our house.
I explained that we were going to plan Adam’s funeral to comply with all of the Orthodox traditions, just as he had planned for my father, my mother and my brother.
There was snow on the icy ground the day Adam was buried.
“Adam is going up, where he will send down prayers for his family,” the rabbi said.
Now that the year of mourning for my husband is almost over, I can understand how the Jewish souls are bound up together.
My prayer is, how can I manage without my husband Adam?
Since he passed away, I have not lit the Shabbat candles.
Shabbat comes in early, comes in late. I am alone.
The first time I lit Shabbat candles was after we were married. Two small silver candlesticks given to us by his mother stood on the only table we owned in the small apartment.
I covered my hair with my white Shabbat scarf, circled my hands around the candles, then covered my eyes and prayed. Adam stood up to say the blessing over the wine. We ate roast chicken with potatoes and my special recipe of Bubby Annie’s apple cake.
Now I have a huge table in the dining room.
When Bubby Annie passed away, my Aunt Lee, the eldest, inherited the candelabra. Yesterday her son gave it to me, saying, “I know you will use it.”
Moishe’s yahrtzeit candle stood beside the candelabra.
I pictured Bubby Annie wearing her white scarf, folding her hands around the candles, then covering her eyes and praying.
Many times, she had a yahrtzeit candle lit beside her candelabra.
I went into my room and took the white Shabbat scarf out of my top drawer. I put five candles into their holders, then lit the yarhtzeit candle for my brother. I circled my hands around the five Shabbat candles, then covered my eyes and prayed.
I could feel blessings come down to me.
I was not alone. by LINDA GOLDBERG
Linda Goldberg lives in Natick, Mass., where she belongs to the Chabad Center. She founded The Metro West Writers’ Workshop and led it for 17 years. She is blessed with four grandsons.
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.
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Why Nothing Makes Me Happy
Words like “self-nullification,” “self-abnegation,” “humility,” words that didn’t even sound very Jewish to my untrained ear . . . by Lieba Rudolph
I am fortunate to live in a community where everyone is committed to taking care of everyone else. Really. Whether it’s for a new baby or a brit milah, or,G‑d forbid, a sad occasion, everyone pitches in for one another—even if it’s only in a small way—to make lifecycle events smoother for everyone.
Facilitating this process is the e‑mail everyone gets containing the ubiquitous spreadsheet, asking people to sign up to help make food for the particular family that needs it.
KnowingI try to sign up whenever possible that it’s a nice thing to do, I try to sign up whenever possible, regardless of who the family is. I’ve also learned the importance of getting through this process as quickly as possible, without taking time to review the spreadsheet. It’s really not my business who signed up to make what, or why the family doesn’t eat wheat.
But then I start deliberating. A commitment to do for others can feel like an unnecessary responsibility. If I don’t make the gefilte fish, someone else surely will. What if there’s another crazy snowstorm, and I can’t get to the store? Come on now. I have gefilte fish in my freezer. I can do this. Be nice. Just sign up for the fish!
Classic approach-avoidance conflict.
But I know I want to sign up, so I start to do it. I type in my name next to gefilte fish. It really is just the idea of doing something for someone else. Then, just as I’m ready to hit “submit,” that little voice makes one last attempt, and if I don’t hit it fast, the voice tries its favorite line: Why are you doing this forthem?
But I know that voice is the yetzer hara (my friendly little ego that loves me to a fault), but because I have heard it so many times when I try to do something nice for someone else, I recognize it and ignore it.
And I hit “submit.” As I do, I feel a slight thrill of victory, and I slowly exhale. I’m on the spreadsheet, so I’m committed even if there’s a snowstorm, even if I discover there’s no gefilte fish in my freezer.
Many years ago, I learned about the quality of bittul, which usually translates into words like “self-nullification,” “self-abnegation,” “humility”—words that didn’t even sound very Jewish to my untrained ear. I was wise to recognize that this was the jewel in the Jewish crown, exactly what we strive to attain, but foolish to think it was easy to do.
After all, I love my “I,” or at least part of it. I still contend that if I hadn’t had so much awareness of myself and my lack of spiritual fulfillment, I would never have agreed to hit “submit” and undergo such a drastic lifestyle change. I would have been happy enough, but I wasn’t. It was a very big “I,” and it needed more.
So this extremely-preoccupied-with-itself “I” understood that the only way to find true happiness (my inalienable right, right?) was to keep Torah andmitzvahs.
Fair enough. Then I’ll be happy?
Uh, not quite. I started hearing that it wasn’t just about doing, it was also about being.
All the doing is supposed to change the being, so that our existence is aware of itself (I got that part), yet completely bound up with its Creator in each and every aspect of that existence. (What?)
Wait a second. I’m supposed to try to totally self-transcend so that everything I am, have or desire is only for G‑d? This is much harder for an “I” like mine to do.
ButWe have the ability to be unlimited it’s my divine mission nonetheless. And G‑d does not ask more of us than we are able to do. Just as He is unlimited, we have the ability to be unlimited. We can be everything and nothing, and something in between, all at the same time. Every day we have to hit “submit,” and we’re on our way to loving what He loves (anyone need gefilte fish?) and loathing what He loathes (the feeling of separateness from Him, right down to the gefilte fish).
Chassidic wisdom teaches that we should all live as if we carry two pieces of paper, one in each pocket. On one paper should be written, “I am nothing but ashes and dust,” and on the other, “The whole world was created for me.” Both of these sayings are correct. The key to true happiness is to master the understanding of when to pull out which paper.
I’m still working on it, and very happy about that. by LIEBA RUDOLPH
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.
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Clean Comedy: Meet an Observant Jewish Female Comic
As Michal Levitin gets up on stage to perform, the audience bursts out laughing. She hasn’t even opened her mouth yet. by Tzippy Koltenyuk
As Michal Levitin gets up on stage to perform for the annual Conference forChabad Women in Israel, the audience bursts out laughing. She hasn’t even opened her mouth yet. But every woman there has seen Michal perform before, and the mere sight of her almost reflexively makes them laugh.

Michal Levitin performing
Funny from Birth
Michal, a 32-year-old mother of six, has been performing for more than 20 years. She grew up in the Chabad neighborhood of Kiryat Malachi, which was the perfect breeding ground for her comedic talent. The diverse neighborhood includes immigrants from Russia, Georgia, Bukhara, Ethiopia, Morocco and Yemen, and the jumble of languages, idioms and phrases inspired Michal. As early as age 5, she could do exact impersonations of all the neighbors in her building, an act that made her family explode with laughter.
Michal shares: “I remember my grandmother saying, ‘Michal, perform for me. Dance for me, and I’ll give you something.’ She was the first to whet my appetite for performing and acting. My mother and grandmother bought me costumes and props so I could better express myself. My family encouraged me, applauded me, and let me perform all the time.”
When she was 10, Michal performed with her mother at a woman’s evening event in Kiryat Malachi. Together, they dramatized episodes of family life, and Michal recited poetry. The audience loved her, and their applause was wildly enthusiastic. At that moment, she knew what she wanted to do when she grew up.
Concentrate on Making People Happy
And that was just the beginning. Michal began performing, usually as a volunteer, in other venues, including a school for at-risk girls, geriatric wards and homes for the elderly.
Through experience, Michal learned to perfect her craft. “Before every holiday, my mother and I would perform. My mother didn’t try to to fix or correct me. She just told me, ‘Concentrate on making your audience happy.’
“Since most of my performances were unpaid, there were no great expectations of me. It was all pure fun. I was self-confident and loved doing it. The attention and the applause—it’s every child’s dream.”
While Michal’s friends were experiencing typical adolescent angst, performing made Michal feel confident and secure. Her path was clear. She knew where she excelled.
“What’s Going to Become of You?”
While her family was very supportive, the educational establishment was not. Many of her elementary and high school teachers didn’t approve of her lighthearted ways. “Enough clowning around,” they would say. “You need to be more serious. Otherwise, what’s going to become of you?” Michal couldn’t understand it. “It says, ‘Serve G‑d with joy,” she told them. But they wouldn’t accept her as she was.
Michal says that the idea of giving a Jewish message through humor was met with skepticism. So, at the school’s end-of-year performance, when she requested a comedic role, she was refused.
Michal didn’t accept this, and she eventually got permission to go up on stage in a funny costume. “I pretended to be a balloon-seller. I was given one minute of stage time, but there are people who still remember that performance.”
Since her comedic side was curtailed, Michal decided to focus on her singing, an area she also excelled in. During her high school years, Michal appeared with well-known singers in Chabad Houses all over the country.
“My grandfather Rabbi Avraham Lieder was a chazzan. He was privileged to teach the Rebbe the song ‘Hoshiah Et Amecha.’ He encouraged me very strongly to sing. He taught me Chabad tunes, and was very particular that I sing them just as chassidim of old sang them. When I was a teen, he taught me some lesser-known songs. I was happy to be able to sing melodies that had never been performed before.”
Stand-Up With a Message
Michal was fortunate to meet a man who would share her life’s goal, Yossi Levitin. “Immediately after the wedding, he became a complete partner in my work, which became ‘our work.’ He’s the producer, the announcer, the driver, the schlepper and the sound guy.”

Michal and Yossi Levitin
After the wedding, Michal decided to focus on her ability to make people laugh. She knew that there were many religious singers, both men and women, but that the field of standup was wide open. “I felt there was a lot of potential. I came up with some characters and began performing. My success was dizzying. Women loved it, and asked for more and more.
“Before every performance, I sat down with the organizers and we discussed the message they wanted to communicate. We created appropriate characters, and it worked. Women laughed while they internalized the deeper message of the performance.”
There were some who criticized Michal’s work, feeling that it was unseemly. But Michal continued anyway. “Their criticism didn’t shatter me. I knew that women were enjoying my routines, and they were gaining insights from the messages I was relaying. I knew that was my mission. So I continued.”
The teachers who once wondered “What will become of you?” have attended Michal’s shows. They have approached her after the show and acknowledged that they hadn’t been able to imagine that she’d go so far with her talent for making people laugh. They tell her that she is able to transmit messages that they, as teachers, are not able to transmit.
Making Abba Laugh
Michal’s father battled a difficult illness for 13 years. In that time, he was in and out of hospitals and underwent a series of invasive operations. From the start, Michal’s mother told the whole family to be joyful in his presence: “Where Abba is, there can only be happiness. That’s what’s going to cure him.”
Michal says, “It was clear to me that the reason he continued to live so many years with such a devastating illness was because of that joy.”

Shmuel Lewis, o.b.m., Michal’s father
Shmuel Lewis, of blessed memory, Michal’s father, was a ritual slaughterer(shochet). Until he became ill, he would travel all over the world to slaughter meat for kosher consumers. He spoke seven languages, and worked with Michal to perfect her accents so that her impersonations would be even better. Whatever song she practiced had to meet his exacting standards. “Abba really loved my performances. He would laugh endlessly at my skits and mimicries, and encourage me to continue. My experience of his sickness and death was shaped by our determination to focus on the joyous parts of life. We knew that this was the way to face adversity.”
Is Mommy Angry?
Michal’s good sense of humor also helps her parent in a positive way.
“It takes my kids the longest time to realize that I’m angry. Even when I am really angry, they’re sure it’s part of a show, and they burst out laughing. Their laughter is contagious, and they get me to laugh with them.”
Michal says that humor can be a wonderful educational tool. “Whenever a difficult situation comes up with the kids, I immediately introduce a comical character who gives her opinion about the situation. The kids pay much more attention to my characters than they do to me. It helps them come down from their high horse or get out of the corner they’ve painted themselves into.”
All of Michal’s children are skilled actors and singers, which is not surprising considering the home they’re raised in. In fact, one whole room is devoted to Michal’s costumes and props—which the kids dress up in year-round, not just on Purim. No wonder the kids’ friends always want to come play at the Levitins’ house!

The Levitin family
How Is a Skit Conceived?
I ask Michal how she comes up with ideas for her skits.
“The characters I play come from real life. They’re figures that I relate to. I make them extreme but honest, and that’s why women can relate to them. When I observe certain instances in real life, I know that someday I’m going to use them on stage.”
Michal says that in planning a skit, the first stage is defining the message that she wants to impart, whether it has to do with husband-wife relationships, raising children, or service of G‑d. Then she thinks about situations that would relay that message, and only then does she come up with characters. The final stage is the props. She chooses disguises and accessories from her costume room which help her get into character.
“There were times when I performed spontaneously, with no props, but when I’m in costume, I identify completely with the personality I’ve created. There’s no question that it works best that way.”
Silent Show
As a Torah-observant standup comedian, Michal is firm about her boundaries. “I never use vulgarity or toilet humor. If, for example, I am performing a skit about a man whose wife gets very angry and wants to curse him, I’ll make a face and say, ‘He should be well.’ From the tone and the facial expression, everyone knows that I’m very angry. Non-religious women approach me after shows and tell me that it was a unique experience to laugh at humor that’s not crude; it’s a pure joy.”
When I ask Michal if there is anybody she would never mimic, she says, “I never make fun of people with disabilities.”
Most Memorable Performances
Of the thousands of shows Michal has performed, a few stand out in her memory. “There was a show to benefit Shema Koleinu, an organization for deaf women. Because they are deaf, I didn’t even need to add music to fill in the gaps between sketches. I was missing a prop for one of my impersonations, so I called out to my husband to ask him to bring it to me. It wasn’t even an issue because the audience was deaf. It was very strange. I tried to speak slowly and to exaggerate my lip movements, so that the women who read lips would be able to understand me.
“Someone projected a transcript that she was writing as I performed, and even included parenthetical remarks like ‘Moroccan accent’ and ‘Russian accent.’ The amazing thing was that the audience laughed. They didn’t laugh any less than a hearing audience. I was touched and shocked at the same time.”
Michal also remembers a performance in France. “It was a mixed group. Half were Hebrew speakers, and half spoke French. There was a simultaneous translation going on. It takes a lot longer to say things in French than in Hebrew, so half the audience would laugh at a funny line right away, and as soon as they’d finished laughing, the French speakers would start. It was so funny that I had to try hard not to laugh myself.”

Michal performing
Way Beyond Laughing
A few years ago, Michal performed for a group of women vacationing in a hotel in northern Israel. The phone rang as she and her husband were heading out to the car after the show. A woman who’d been in the audience was on the line. She said she had thought that this vacation would help her, but she wasn’t feeling any less down. She was suffering from postpartum depression and was feeling suicidal.
Michal spoke with her all through the night, and arranged for the two of them to meet at a performance Michal was giving in another week, near the woman’s home. After the show they met and spoke, and Michal gave her the schedule of her future performances. This woman traveled all over Israel, showing up at every one of those performances.
She said that she was living for them, and that they were strengthening her. “We stayed in touch for two years, until she finally pulled out of her depression. Today, she helps treat women who are suffering from mental illness.”
Michal’s Dream
I ask Michal about her dreams for the future. As a Chabad chassid, Michal immediately answers: “My biggest dream is that Moshiach will come, the dead will be resurrected, and my father will be among them. On the professional front, I’d love to do standup for kids. Children these days are very bright, and I think that through humor I can get across some important concepts to them.” by TZIPPY KOLTENYUK
Tzippy Koltenyuk is a public speaker, singer and creative writer.
Translated by Esther Rabi.
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How to Merit the World to Come by Gitty Stolik
Rav Beroka, a Talmudic sage, was surveying the scene in a marketplace together with the prophet Elijah. He asked the prophet, “Who in this marketplace is deserving of olam haba [the world to come]?”
Elijah pointed out two individuals who seemed quite ordinary to Rav Beroka. Curious to hear what they did to earn this remarkable reward, he questioned them. “We are comedians,” they told him. They related that in addition to entertaining people with their jokes, they would cheer up people who had quarreled. When the parties were happier, it was easier to make peace among them.1
This story piques the imagination. Elijah and Rav Beroka were not contemporaries; rather, Rav Beroka merited the revelation of Elijah the prophet. I would think Rab Beroka would have utilized every moment with Elijah to help solve unanswered Torah mysteries and riddles, or burning contemporary issues.
Yet he took the time to “survey the market,” like the marketing analysts of today. What are the “going” items? What commodity will be found noteworthy and of value?
Comedy turned out to be a winner. Their humor and laughter vouchsafed the two comedians a coveted assurance of immediate entry into the world to come. Humor and laughter are elevated and holy—when used with the right intentions. Joyous Jewish living is indeed a burning contemporary issue.
Let’s give a shout-out to the joy producers of today. They may not have training, titles, or framed certificates adorning their office walls. They may not use sophisticated strategies or psychological theories. But they bring joy to people, and that is a most important mitzvah!
And it is not just the professional comedians. We all have the capacity—and responsibility—to buy into the joy commodities market and bring joy to others.
G‑d responds to our initiative; when we’re joyous, it elicits His joy. So the more, the merrier. The more joy produced, the faster we leap into a state of permanent joy, the coming of Moshiach.
FOOTNOTES
1.Talmud, Taanit 22a. by GITTY STOLIK
Gitty Stolik is a mother and grandmother living in Brooklyn. She is the author of It's OK to Laugh and the editor of Our Vogue, a publication dedicated to highlighting the beauty of Jewish modesty from Torah and chassidic sources. She is also an educator who helps challenged children realize their hidden potential. This article is excerpted from her book.
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Go Ahead: Fake It till You Make It by Chana Weisberg
Want a quick trick to become happy? Try smiling.
In the late 1980s, researchers had subjects hold pencils in their mouths in various ways to mimic smiles or frowns. They discovered that by flexing facial muscles, even without knowing why, their subjects’ emotional reactions changed. Those who smiled rated things much more positively than those who frowned. Additional tests gave similar results.
The researchers concluded that though moods are accompanied by changes in the body, it works the other way as well. Make a seemingly insignificant change to your body—like flexing those smiling muscles—and your brain will notice and react accordingly.
So, “fake it till you make it” seems to have some merit.
Interestingly, we find a connection to this concept in this week’s Torah portion, when we are commanded to make the ark out of wood and cover it with gold.
They shall make an ark of acacia wood . . . and you shall overlay [the ark] with pure gold, inside and outside (Exodus 25:10–11)
The ark was made out of three boxes that were tucked into each other. The larger, visible box was made from pure gold. Inside was placed a box of acacia wood, inside of which was placed the smallest box, also made out of gold. The tablets with the Ten Commandments were kept in this innermost box.
Like the boxes of the ark, we too are made up of layers. On the inside we are made from “pure gold,” a G‑dly soul that is untainted and holy, and wants only to do what’s right and good. The next layer is our conscious self—our temperament, moods and feelings. This part of us isn’t always so pure or shiny. And finally, there is the outer box, the part of ourselves that we allow the world to see through our actions.
We might feel hypocritical to put on a golden face to the world when inside we’re feeling the opposite. Should I act outwardly giving, kind and empathetic when I’m feeling rather “wooden”? Should I present a façade of calmness when I really want to lash out in disparaging anger? Why act in a way that contradicts my true feelings?
But the construction of the ark teaches us that we can improve our feelings through our actions. It’s all right to have some “wooden” moments but outwardly act “golden.” Actions create internal change. Act the part, and you become it.
So go ahead and smile, and watch yourself become happier. Give those coins to charity, and witness your mood become more giving and forgiving. Act calmly, and your anger will begin to dissipate.
Because in truth, you aren’t really acting. Deep down, your inner self is pure gold. by CHANA WEISBERG

Chana Weisberg is the editor of TheJewishWoman.org. She lectures internationally on issues relating to women, relationships, meaning, self-esteem and the Jewish soul. She is the author of five popular books.
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.
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Learn Terumah In Depth
A condensation of the weekly Torah portion alongside select commentaries culled from the Midrash, Talmud, Chassidic masters, and the broad corpus of Jewish scholarship.
Parshah Summary
At Mount Sinai the people of Israel experienced an all-consuming, if brief, revelation of G‑d. Now they are instructed to build a Mishkan, or “dwelling” (also called a Mikdash, “Sanctuary,” and commonly referred to as “the Tabernacle”), in which G‑d will “dwell within them” as a perpetual presence in the Israelite camp.
The people are told to make an “uplifting” (terumah)to G‑d, consisting of:
Gold, silver and copper;
Blue-, purple- and scarlet-[dyed wool], fine linen and goat [hair];
Rams’ skins dyed red, tachash skins and shittimwood;
Oil for the light; spices for the anointing oil and for the sweet incense;
Shoham stones, and gemstones for setting in the ephod and in the breastplate.
Of these fifteen materials,
They shall make for Me a sanctuary, and I shall dwell within them.
The remainder of the Parshah of Terumah consists of G‑d’s detailed instructions to Moses on how to construct and assemble the various components of the Mishkan.
According to all that I show you, the form of the Tabernacle and the form of all its vessels—so shall you make it.
The Ark
Before detailing the construction of the edifice itself, G‑d instructs Moses on the making of its “vessels”—the various furnishings that the Tabernacle housed.
The ark is to be constructed in the form of an open-topped box, 2.5 cubits (approximately 45 inches) long, 1.5 cubits wide and 1.5 cubits high. It should be made of shittim wood covered within and without with pure gold, with a gold “crown” around its rim. The function of the ark is to house the two tablets of testimony, engraved with the Ten Commandments, “which I shall give to you.”

The ark
Two poles, also of gold-covered shittim wood, are to be inserted into four gold rings affixed to the four corners of the ark, with which the ark is to be carried from place to place.
The poles shall be in the rings of the ark; they shall not be removed.
A kapporet (“cover”)—also 2.5 by 1.5 cubits—should be made for the ark.
You shall make two cherubim of gold . . . at the two ends of the cover.
The cherubim shall stretch out their wings on high, overspreading the cover with their wings, and their faces shall look one to another.
The kapporet with its two cherubim should be hammered out of a single block of pure gold.
“And there I will commune with you,” says G‑d to Moses;
I will speak with you from above the kapporet, from between the two cherubim which are upon the Ark of the Testimony, of all the things which I will give you in commandment to the children of Israel.
The Table and the Menorah
Make a table of shittim wood; two cubits shall be its length, a cubit its breadth, and a cubit and a half its height.
Like the ark, the table is to be overlaid with gold, given a gold crown along its rim, and have four gold rings affixed to its corners for its two carrying poles.
The function of the table is to hold the lechem hapanim (“showbread”), which were arranged on it in two tiers of six loaves each. The table’s accessories should include pans (for holding the specially shaped breads), vertical side-frames and horizontal supports on which these were arranged, and two small bowls for the levonah (incense) placed on the tabletop between the two tiers of showbread—all made of pure gold.

The menorah according to Rashi and Maimonides
You shall make amenorah of pure gold. Of beaten workshall the menorah be made—its shaft, its branches, itsgoblets, its bulbs and its flowers shall be [hammered] of the same [piece of gold].
Six branches shall come out of its sides: three branches of the menorah out of the one side, and three branches of the menorah out of the other side.
Together with the center shaft, this made seven branches, which are to be topped by seven lamps; “they shall light its lamps, that they may give light over its face.”
See that you make [the menorah and its parts] after their pattern, which is shown you on the mountain.
The Roof Coverings
After describing the three major “vessels” of the Tabernacle—the ark, the table and the menorah—G‑d proceeds to detail the making of its roof coverings.
Three layers of coverings are to be draped over the walls of the Tabernacle, to form its roof and almost completely cover its sides. (The construction of the walls themselves are detailed in the next chapter.)
The first covering (which the verse calls, like the edifice itself, “the Mishkan”) should consist of tentapestries, made of “fine-twined linen, and blue, purple and scarlet wool,” with “cherubim of artistic work” woven into the fabric.

The tapestries over the Tabernacle
The ten tapestries should each measure 28 × 4 cubits, and should be sewn together to make two large sheets of five tapestries each (making each "grouping" of five tapestries 28 × 20 cubits in size). The two “groupings” are then to be joined together by means of 50 gold clasps inserted into loops of blue-dyed wool sewn along the edges of the outermost tapestry in each “grouping.” Thus joined, the ten tapestries will form a sheet 40 cubits by 28 cubits (approximately 60 × 42 feet).
[Since the walls of the Tabernacle formed a structure 31 cubits long, 12 cubits wide and 10 cubits high, the first covering almost completely enveloped this structure, hanging down 8 cubits on each side and 9 cubits in the back. (The front end of the Tabernacle was covered by the separate “screen” described later.)]
The second covering (called ohel, or “tent”) should be made of goat hair. It should be larger than the first, consisting of 11 strips, each 30 cubits by 4 cubits, joined into two “groupings”—one of five strips sewn together, and a second of six. These in turn should be joined together with 50 copper clasps. (Altogether, the second covering will thus have an area of 44 cubits by 30 cubits.)
When draped over the first covering, the second covering will hang down 9 cubits on either side of the Tabernacle—one cubit more than the first covering—leaving only the silver foundation sockets of the Tabernacle exposed (see below). It should be made to overlap slightly in the front and completely cover the back wall, even “trailing behind the back of the Tabernacle.”
These two coverings are to be topped by a “roof” of red-dyed ram skins and tachash skins.
The Walls
You shall make boards for the Tabernacle ofshittim wood standing upright.
A defining feature of the Tabernacle is its portability: the “vessels” are equipped with carrying poles; the roof coverings are of cloth and animal skins. The walls of the Mishkan were likewise made to be dismantled, transported and reassembled numerous times, as the people of Israel set up camp in various locations in the course of their journey through the desert.
The Mishkan—G‑d instructs Moses—should have three walls, fitted together out of 48 “boards”(kerashim): 20 boards to form the right (south) wall, 20 boards to form the left (north) wall, and 8 boards to make the back wall to the west.
The boards should be made of shittim wood and covered with gold. Each board should be 10 cubits long, 1.5 cubits wide and 1 cubit thick.
The boards should be stood upright, their 10-cubit length forming the 10-cubit height of the Mishkan. The 48 boards should be inserted into 96 cubit-high silver “foundation sockets” (adanim)—two sockets to a board. The bottom cubit of each board should be whittled to form two “pegs” for insertion into the foundation sockets.
The boards should be joined to each other by means of gold “rings” or brackets inserted into slits made in their top. Each wall should also be reinforced with four “crossbars” (two on top and two on bottom) inserted into rings affixed to the boards’ exterior. An additional “center bar” should run "through the middleof the boards, “from one end to the other.”
Two Chambers
Stood upright and joined side by side, the 48 boards of the Tabernacle will form a U-shaped enclosure whose inside area is 30 cubits by 10 cubits. This area should be divided into two chambers: a 20 × 10 outer chamber to the east, and a 10 × 10 inner chamber (the “Holy of Holies”) to the west.

The Mishkan and its "Vessels"
To separate the two chambers, aparochet (“veil” or “partition”) should be made of “blue, purple and scarlet wool, and fine-twined linen, with cherubim of artistic work” woven into the fabric. Four pillars of gold-covered shittimwood, inserted into four silver foundation sockets, should hold up the parochet. (Thus the Mishkan had a total of 100 silver foundation sockets.) Theparochet should be hung exactly 20 cubits from the eastern end of the Mishkan, which will place it directly under the golden clasps which joined the two “groupings” of tapestries in the first roof-covering (as above).
The ark containing the tablets of testimony should be placed in the “Holy of Holies” behind the parochet. In the outer chamber, the menorah should be placed to the right (south) of the room, and the table to the left (north).
[The outer chamber also contained the golden altar, whose construction and function are described in next week’s Parshah.]
The front (east) end of the Mishkan has no boards, but should be covered with a “screen” (masach) held up by five pillars of gold-covered shittim wood inserted into five copper sockets. Like the parochet, the “screen” should be a tapestry of multicolored wool and fine-spun linen. It should be decorated with images of “embroidered work.”
The Outer Courtyard
Moses is commanded to construct the altar—a hollow, earth-filled structure made of copper-platedshittim wood—to be placed outside the Mishkan, in front of the “screen” on its eastern side; on this “outer altar,” selected parts of the offerings brought to the Sanctuary are burnt.

The altar
You shall make its pans to receive its ashes, its shovels, its basins, its forks and its firepans: all its vessels you shall make of copper.

The Mishkan and the enclosure
Both the Mishkan and the altar should stand within an enclosure or “courtyard”(chatzer).
The enclosure should measure 100 cubits from east to west and 50 cubits north to south. Its walls should consist of linen hangings held up by pillars ofshittim wood with silver hooks and silver trimmings, inserted in copper sockets. A total of sixty pillars should be made, including four pillars to support a 20-cubit screen that should stand before the entranceway in the center of the eastern side of the enclosure.
All the utensils of the Tabernacle, in all its service, all its pegs, and all the pegs of the enclosure shall be of copper.
From Our Sages
Speak to the children of Israel, that they should take to Me a terumah (“uplifting”) (Exodus 25:2)
Every created entity has a spark of G‑dliness within it, a pinpoint of divinity that constitutes its “soul,” its spiritual function and design. When we utilize something to serve the Creator, we penetrate its shell of mundanity, revealing and realizing its divine essence. Thus we elevate these “sparks,” reuniting them with their Source.
(The Chassidic Masters)
Gold, silver and copper . . . (25:3–7)
The materials donated for the Mishkan correspond to the components of the human being. “Gold” is the soul; “silver,” the body; “copper,” the voice; “blue,” the veins; “purple,” the flesh; “red,” the blood; “flax,” the intestines; “goat hair,” the hair; “rams’ skins dyed red,” the skin of the face; “tachash skins,” the scalp; “shittim wood,” the bones; “oil for lighting,” the eyes; “spices for the anointing oil and for the sweet incense,” the nose, mouth and palate; “shoham stones and gemstones for setting,” the kidneys and the heart.
Rabbi Shmuel said: The materials donated for the Mishkan correspond to the heavens. “Gold” is the sun; “silver,” the moon; “copper,” the western horizon at sunset; “blue,” the sky; “purple,” the clouds; “red,” the rainbow; “flax,” the seraphim; “goat,” the constellation of Capricorn; “rams’ skins dyed red,” thunder; “tachash skins,” lightning; “shittim wood,” shooting stars; “oil for lighting,” the seven planets; “spices for the anointing oil and for the incense,” dew and rain; “shoham stones and gemstones for setting”—hail and snow. Said G‑d: “My dwelling is in the heavens; if you make Me a Sanctuary on earth, I shall dwell in it.”
(Midrash HaGadol)
The Mishkan is the equivalent of the universe.
Regarding the work of the first day of creation it says, “He who stretches out the heavens like a curtain” (Psalms 104:2). Regarding the making of the Mishkan it says, “You shall make curtains of goat’s hair for a tent over the Tabernacle” (Exodus 26:7).
Regarding the work of the second day of creation it says, “Let there be a firmament . . . and let it divide between the waters and the waters” (Genesis 1:6). Regarding the making of the Mishkan it says, “The veil shall divide for you between the Holy and the Holy of Holies” (Exodus 26:33).
Regarding the work of the third day of creation it says, “Let the waters under the heavens be gathered together” (Genesis 1:9). Regarding the making of the Mishkan it says, “You shall make a copper basin, and the base thereof of copper, for washing” (Exodus 30:18).
Regarding the work of the fourth day of creation it says, “Let there be luminaries in the heavens” (Genesis 1:14). Regarding the making of the Mishkan it says, “You shall make a menorah of pure gold” (Exodus 25:31).
Regarding the work of the fifth day of creation it says, “Let fowl fly above the earth” (Genesis 1:20). Regarding the making of the Mishkan it says, “The cherubim shall spread out their wings upward” (Exodus 25:20).
On the sixth day, man was created [to inhabit and cultivate the earth]. Regarding the Mishkan, G‑d says to Moses, “Bring near Aaron your brother [to perform the service in the Sanctuary]” (Exodus 28:1).
Of the seventh day we have it written, “The heaven and the earth were completed. . . . And G‑d completed His work . . . G‑d blessed . . . and G‑d sanctified . . .” (Genesis 2:1–3). Regarding the making of the Mishkan it says: “Thus was completed all the work of the Tabernacle . . . and Moses blessed them. . . . And it came to pass on the day that Moses completed the Tabernacle . . . and sanctified it” (Exodus 39:32,43; Numbers 7:1).
(Midrash Rabbah)
Gold (25:3)
The world was not considered worthy to make use of gold. So why was it created? For the Mishkan.
(Midrash Rabbah)
They shall make for Me a sanctuary, and I will dwell amidst them (25:8)
G‑d desired a dwelling place in the lower realms.
(Midrash Tanchuma, Naso 16)
This is what man is all about; this is the purpose of his creation and of the creation of all the worlds, higher and lower—that there be made for G‑d a dwelling in the lower realms.
(Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi)
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They shall make for Me a sanctuary, and I will dwell within them (25:8)
The verse does not say “and I will dwell within it,” but “and I will dwell within them”—within each and every one of them.
(Shaloh)
They shall make for Me a sanctuary, and I will dwell within them (25:8)
There was once a king who had an only daughter, and one of the kings came and married her. When her husband wished to return to his country, her father said to him: "My daughter, whose hand I have given you, is my only child; I cannot part with her. Neither can I say to you, ‘Do not take her,’ for she is your wife. This one favor, however, I ask of you: wherever you go to live, prepare a chamber for me that I may dwell with you, for I cannot leave my daughter.”
In the same way, G‑d said to Israel: “I have given you the Torah. I cannot part with her, and I also cannot tell you not to take her. But this I request of you: wherever you go, make for Me a house wherein I may dwell.”
(Midrash Rabbah)
They shall make the ark . . . two cubits and a half shall be its length, a cubit and a half its breadth, and a cubit and a half its height (25:10)
The measurements of the ark were all in fractions, indicating that to become a vessel for Torah, a person must first “break” his ego.
(Rabbi Natan Adler)
The measurements of the ark were all in halves, indicating that no matter how much one studies Torah, one never masters its whole; “Longer than the land is its measure, and broader than the sea” (Job 11:9).
(Pardes Yosef)
You shall overlay [the ark] with pure gold, inside and outside (25:11)
Any Torah scholar whose interior is not like his exterior is no Torah scholar.
(Talmud, Yoma 72b)
The poles shall be in the rings of the ark; they shall not be removed (25:15)
This is actually one of the 365 prohibitions of the Torah—never to remove the carrying poles from the ark, even when the Mishkan is in a state of rest, as it often was for several months at a time. Indeed, the poles remained in the ark for the more than 380 years that it stood in the Holy of Holies in the Temple in Jerusalem! This particular law applies only to the ark, and not to any of the other vessels of the Mishkan.
The ark, which served as the depository of the Torah, was the most secluded of the Mishkan’s vessels, expressing the ideal that the Torah scholar (who serves as an “ark” for the Torah) must remove himself from all worldly endeavors. At the same time, however, he must be in a constant state of “portability”—even more so than the other “vessels.”
If there is a soul thirsting for the word of G‑d in the ends of earth, the Torah scholar must be prepared to leave his inner sanctum to transport the Torah to that place. So even when he sits in his “Holy of Holies,” he must have his “carrying poles” inserted in his “rings”—always at the ready to venture out at a moment’s notice, constantly aware of his responsibilities toward the world outside.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
Make two cherubim of gold (25:18)
The cherubim had the faces of children (Rashi). They were representations of the images seen by Ezekiel in his vision of the divine “chariot” (Nachmanides).
The cherubim shall stretch out their wings on high . . . and their faces shall look one to another (25:20)
But in another verse (II Chronicles 3:13) it says, “They faced [the walls of] the room”? When the people of Israel fulfilled G‑d’s will, the cherubim would face each other; and when the people of Israel did not fulfill G‑d’s will, the cherubim would face the walls of the room.
(Talmud, Bava Batra 99a)
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Make for it a rim of gold round about (25:24)
There were three crowns: that of the altar, that of the ark and that of the table. The one of the altar (representing the priesthood), Aaron deserved, and he received it. The one of the table (representing the wealth of royalty), David deserved and received. The one of the ark (representing the Torah) is still available, and whosoever wants to take it may come and take it.
(Talmud, Yoma 72b)
You shall set showbread upon the table before Me always (25:30)
The table stood in the Tabernacle, and there rested upon it a blessing from Above, and from it issued nourishment to the whole world. Not for a moment was that table to remain empty, since blessing does not rest upon an empty place. Therefore the showbread had always to be renewed upon it each Sabbath, in order that the blessing from Above might always rest upon it, and that food and blessing, because of it, might emanate from that table to all the tables of the world.
So too should every man’s table [have bread on it] when he says grace after meals: in order that the blessing from Above should rest upon it, it must not be empty.
(Zohar 2:153b)
You shall make a menorah . . . its shaft, its branches, its goblets, its bulbs and its flowers . . . (25:31)
The height of the menorah was eighteen handbreadths. Three handbreadths for the base and the flower upon it; two handbreadths of unadorned stem; one handbreadth for cup, bulb and flower; again two handbreadths of unadorned stem; one handbreadth for a bulb out of which two branches come forth, one on each side, extending and rising to the same height as the menorah; one handbreadth plain; one handbreadth for a bulb out of which two branches come forth, one on each side, extending and rising to the same height as the menorah; one handbreadth plain; one handbreadth for a bulb out of which two branches come forth, one on each side, extending and rising to the same height as the menorah; and then two handbreadths plain. There now remained three handbreadths, in which space were three cups, a bulb and a flower (in each of the seven branches).
The cups were like Alexandrian goblets (wide at the top and tapered down towards the base); the bulbs, like Cretan apples; and the flowers, like the blossoms around the capitals of columns. It will be found, therefore, that there were twenty-two cups, eleven bulbs and nine flowers.
Of beaten work shall the menorah be made (25:31)
It should not be made out of sections, and its branches and lamps should not be made piecemeal and welded together. Rather, it should originate in its entirety as a single piece [of gold], which should be hammered and spliced into shape, and the branches bent in either direction.
(Rashi)
Six branches shall extend from its sides: three branches of the menorah out of the one side, and three branches of the menorah out of the other side (25:32)
Rashi, following the basic meaning of the text, states that the branches of the menorah extended upward from its main stem in straight, diagonal lines—not curved, as commonly depicted. This reading of the text is supported by an illustration in Maimonides’ own hand, which likewise shows straight, diagonal branches.

Sketch of menorah by Maimonides’ hand
from manuscript of his Mishneh Torah
(Maimonides refers to the illustration as a rough sketch designed to show the general form and placement of the menorah’s components, rather than an exact depiction; the shape of the branches, however, is a major rather than a minor detail. As Maimonides’ son, Rabbi Abraham, writes: “The six branches . . . extended in straight lines from the menorah stem to the top, as my father drew them—not curved, as others have drawn.”)
Traditional rabbinical sources do include an opinion—that of the author of Maaseh Choshev—that the menorah’s branches were curved. However, it is obvious from the words of the Maaseh Choshev that the author did not see Maimonides’ illustration. (He mentions Rashi’s opinion that the branches were straight, but noting that Maimonides says only that they “extended upward,” he deduces that Maimonides differs from Rashi. This understanding of Maimonides’ opinion clearly indicates that the Maaseh Choshev was unaware of the illustration which Maimonides sketched in his original manuscript of the very text he quotes.)
The common practice of depicting the menorah with curved branches derives from the infamous “Arch of Titus,” erected by the Roman emperor to celebrate his defeat of the Jews and his destruction of the Temple, in which a menorah (with curved branches) is shown being triumphantly carried off to Rome, and which bears the inscription “Judah Captive.” The curved branches are only one of many inaccuracies in this menorah, which differs in numerous ways from the Torah’s specifications. It is most unfortunate that for many Jews the image of the Menorah is as depicted on an arch constructed to celebrate the Temple’s destruction, rather than as described by the Torah and its traditional commentaries.
I therefore urge that every effort be made to correct this error by taking care to always draw the menorah with diagonal branches, and to follow this model in all representations of the menorah, such as menorahs used for the kindling of Chanukah lights, and so on.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Likkutei Sichot, vol. 21)
Three decorated goblets in each branch (25:33)
Another interesting feature of Maimonides’ illustration (see previous citation) is that the “goblets” or “cups” that were part of the menorah’s design are shown upside down. Apparently, Maimonides was the recipient of a tradition, or was privy to a nowadays unknown midrash, that this was how the goblets were formed in the menorah.
The significance of the menorah’s upside-down goblets can be understood in light of another “inverted” feature of the Sanctuary, when it attained its permanent form as the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. “When a person builds a house,” says the Midrash, “he makes the windows narrow on the outside and wider on the inside, so that the light from the outside should illuminate the interior. But when King Solomon built the Holy Temple, he made the windows narrow within and wide without (as per I Kings 6:4), so that its light should emanate to the outside and illuminate the world.” As the Holy Temple was not a recipient of light but a disseminator of light, its windows were turned inside out.
By the same token, a goblet can serve as a receptacle of drink or as a dispenser of drink. The Sanctuary being the source of blessing and nurture for the entire world, the goblets depicted within it were shown in a dispensing mode rather than in a receiving one.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Likkutei Sichot, vol. 21)
See that you make [the menorah and its parts] after their pattern, which is shown you on the mountain (25:40)
Moses had difficulty comprehending the construction of the menorah, until G‑d showed him a menorah of fire.
(Rashi)
Make the Mishkan [covering] ten tapestries. . . . Make sheets of goat hair as a tent covering over the Mishkan; make them eleven sheets . . . and you shall enfold the sixth sheet (26:1–9)
The ten multicolored tapestries, in two groups of five each, represent the Ten Commandments (engraved on two tablets). The eleven sheets of goat hair, sewn together in groups of five and six, represent the Five Books of Moses and the six orders of the Mishnah. . . . The “folded sheet” represents the Talmud, which enfolds and defines the Torah. . . . The fifty clasps represent the fifty days from the Exodus to the giving of the Torah.
(Midrash HaGadol)
Make the Mishkan [covering] ten tapestries . . . with cherubim of artistic work shall you make them (26:1)
“Artistic work” means that the images were not embroidered, but of the weave itself, and done in such a way that one figure showed on one side and a different figure on the other. “Embroidered work” were images made with needlework, and which were the same on both sides.
(Rashi)
You shall join the tapestries with the clasps, that the Mishkan may be one (26:6)
As seen from the inside of the Sanctuary, the golden clasps embedded in the tapestries were like stars glittering in the heavens.
(Beraita Melechet HaMishkan)
The remainder that is left of the sheets of the tent, the half-curtain that remains, shall trail behind the back of the Tabernacle (26:12)
The Mishkan thus resembled a lady strolling through the market with the hems of her dress trailing behind her.
(Talmud, Shabbat 98b)
You shall make a covering . . . of tachash skins above (26:14)
The tachash was a multicolored animal, which was created specifically for the Tabernacle and existed only at that time.
Rabbi Hoshaya taught that it was a one-horned animal.
(Jerusalem Talmud)
In truth, “Everything that G‑d created, He created solely for His glory” (Ethics of the Fathers 6:11). It is only that in our material world, a thing’s exterior face often belies its intrinsic purpose.
But there was one creature, the tachash, which existed only in the time and place it was needed for the making of a “dwelling for G‑d.” Thus thetachash expressed the true nature of every creation: that it exists to the sole end of serving and revealing the divine essence implicit within it.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
You shall make boards for the Tabernacle ofshittim wood (26:15)
According to the Talmud, the shittah was a type of cedar; in Rabbi Saadiah Gaon’s (Arabic) translation of the Torah it is rendered shant, or “acacia.”
Chassidic teaching sees the word shittim as related to the word shetut, “folly”—an allusion to the fact that the function of the Mishkan was to transform the folly of materialism into “folly of holiness,” commitment to G‑d that transcends the rationale and normalcy of “the way things are.”
You shall make boards for the Tabernacle ofshittim wood (26:15)
Why of shittim wood? G‑d set an example for all time, that when a man is about to build his house from a fruit-producing tree, he should be reminded: If, when the supreme King of kings commanded the Sanctuary to be erected, He instructed to use only trees that are not fruit-bearing, though all things belong to Him, how much more should this be so in your case?
(Midrash Rabbah)
You shall make boards for the Tabernacle ofshittim wood (26:15)
How did the children of Israel obtain wood in the desert? Rabbi Tanchuma explained: Our father Jacob foresaw with his holy spirit that Israel was destined to build a Sanctuary in the desert, so he brought cedars to Egypt and planted them [there], and instructed his children to take them along when they left Egypt.
(Rashi)
For all the years that the children of Israel were in Egypt, Jacob’s cedars served as a link to their past and a promise of their future. “This is not your home,” the growing trees said. “You, like us, hail from a loftier, holier place. And soon you will leave this depraved land, to be reclaimed by G‑d as His people. You will then uproot us from this foreign land and carry us triumphantly to Sinai, where you will construct out of us a dwelling for the Divine Presence in your midst.”
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
The middle bar in the midst of the boards shall reach from end to end (26:28)
It lay there by a miracle. (It was a single 72-cubit long bar which passed through the three walls; the necessary bending between the angles of the walls was miraculously done by itself.)
(Talmud & Rashi, Shabbat 98b)
You shall place . . . the menorah opposite the table on the south side of the Tabernacle; and you shall place the table on the north side (26:35)
Said Rabbi Yitzchak: One who desires to become wise should turn to the south [when praying], and one who desires to become rich should turn to the north. Your sign for this is: the table was to the north and the menorah to the south.
Said Rabbi Joshua ben Levi: One should always turn to the south, because through obtaining wisdom one will obtain wealth.
(Talmud, Bava Batra 25b)
You shall make an altar . . . and you shall overlay it with copper (27:1–2)
Why copper? Just like copper tarnishes and then can be scrubbed clean, so the people of Israel, although they sin, they repent and are forgiven.
(Midrash HaGadol)
All [the Mishkan’s] pegs, and all the pegs of the enclosure, shall be of copper (27:19)
These “pegs” served to hold down the coverings of the Mishkan and the walls of the enclosure, so that they should not lift in the wind. I am not sure if they were stakes driven into the ground, or if they were just weights tied to and hung upon the fabrics to hold them down.
(Rashi)
The deeper significance of Rashi’s uncertainty is as follows: If the stakes were driven into the ground, then the earthen floor of the Mishkan formed an integral part of its structure. If, however, the stakes merely weighed down the edges of the coverings, then the relationship of the Mishkan to its floor was more superficial, and its holiness did not permeate its floor to the same extent as it did its other parts.
The Mishkan sanctified and elevated a broad cross-section of physical materials, including “higher” vegetable and animal-derived substances as well as inanimate minerals. But the minerals used in its construction were of the more precious sort—gold, silver and copper. Unless the earthen floor of the Mishkan formed an integral part of the edifice, the “lowliest” elements of the physical world had to await the construction of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem (made primarily of mortar and stone) to become part of the divine dwelling on earth.
(The Chassidic Masters)

JEWISH NEWS

Bar Mitzvah on Death Row: A Texas Rabbi’s Unique Challenge
The lead Jewish chaplain in the Texas prison system provides spiritual sustenance to inmates, regardless of their crimes. by Menachem Posner
Rabbi Dovid Goldstein—director of Chabad-Lubavitch of West Houston, associate director of Chabad Outreach in Houston and the lead Jewish chaplain in the Texas prison system—leads a "shiur," a lesson, in the Jewish-enhanced program at the Stringfellow Unit, a Texas Department of Criminal Justice prison located in Rosharon, Brazoria County, Texas.
Jedidiah Murphy has spent the last 15 years on death row in Livingston, Texas.
Like all of the men in the Polunsky Unit, he’s been convicted of terrible crimes. On Oct. 4, 2000, high on cocaine, he shot and killed a 79-year-old woman, stole her car, and used her credit cards to purchase alcohol and cigarettes. Less than a year later, at the age of 25, he was sentenced to death.
“We first met a few months ago,” says Rabbi Dovid Goldstein, director of Chabad-Lubavitch of West Houston, associate director of Chabad Outreach in Houston and the lead Jewish chaplain in the Texas prison system. “I was in the prison to meet another inmate and came to visit him as well. We began talking, and he opened up. He told me about his childhood with his Jewish grandparents in Texas who raised him because his parents in New York were not able to, and he told me about his childhood in foster homes after his grandparents were no longer able to keep him.

“When I showed him my tefillin and asked him what they were,” continues Goldstein, “he told me, ‘Yeah, those are tefillin. I was in foster care by the time I was 13 and never got to have a bar mitzvah. For the past 15 years, the rabbis from Aleph Institute have been visiting me, and each time, they were prevented from putting them on me.’ ”
The Florida-based, Chabad-run Aleph Institute provides services and support to Jewish military servicemen and women, as well as to Jews in prison and their families.
State law generally forbids prisoners on death row from having direct contact with their visitors, but Goldstein was determined to see if he could arrange for an exception.
‘Reach Out to the Soul’
When asked how he manages to work with people who have committed serious crimes, Goldstein replies that he makes a point of never researching the inmate’s criminal records. “If they tell me what they did, that’s their choice, but I never ask,” he says simply. “It’s not my place to research their challenges and conditions. My purpose is to reach out to the soul that’s beyond any external deficiencies and help that soul shine.”

The rabbi wraps tefillin with a man in the Koher Unit, one of four prisons that cater to the needs of Jewish inmates in Texas.
This would not be the first time he would be putting tefillin on a death-row prisoner. He had done the same for Douglas Feldman, 55, in 2013—a week before Feldman would receive a lethal injection at the Texas State Penitentiary at Huntsville for a pair of double murders he committed some 15 years earlier. In that case, he was allowed direct contact with the prisoner—the first Jew known to have been executed by the State of Texas—since the tefillin were considered the man’s “last rites,” for which special allowances could be made.
Goldstein has a long history of advocating for the rights of Jewish people in prisons. “I first got involved shortly after my wife, Elisa, and I moved to Houston as Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries in 1998,” recalls the red-bearded rabbi, who grew up in McAllen, Texas.
“There was an older rabbi, Ted Sanders, of blessed memory, who was tasked with caring for the Jewish prisoners, and he asked that I assist him with some of his duties.
“One story that pierced my heart was that of a religious Jew from out of the country who was incarcerated near Dallas. He could not get matzah for Passover or even enough kosher food to subsist. At that time, there was no kosher facility in the Texas penal system, and there was just no system in place to facilitate religious observance. He could not even wear tefillin every day since it needed to be kept in the chaplain’s office, and the chaplain did not work every day.
“Here is the tragedy that really set a fire in my soul: For years, he begged and pleaded for a sukkah—a small, branch-covered booth used during the holiday of Sukkot—but we were always rebuffed. One year, I purchased a small collapsible sukkah and brought it to a meeting with the prison brass. Seeing that it could be easily taken up and down before and after every use, they relented. That year, he would finally sit in a sukkah like Jews all over the world. Three days after the meeting, he collapsed and was diagnosed with acute leukemia. He passed away on Rosh Hashanah, two weeks before Sukkot.

Goldstein with Capt. Watson, the kitchen captain when the kosher kitchen was opened at Stringfellow Unit, one of four prisons that cater to the needs of Jewish inmates in the state of Texas, where between 60 and 120 Jewish people are incarcerated.
“From then on, the work I did to facilitate religious observance for Jewish prisoners is in his memory.”
Goldstein began drafting plans for creating an infrastructure that would accommodate Jewish prisoners, much of it based on what is already standard procedure in federal prisons.
Today, four units cater to the needs of Jewish prisoners (there are between 60 and 120 Jewish people incarcerated in Texas), and one “enhanced” unit, which has a kosher kitchen, weekly classes, and other services provided by Goldstein and Rabbi Mendy Traxler, program director of Chabad Outreach.
Goldstein also reports that he is often inspired by many of the inmates’ sincere wishes to better themselves. “There was one man who joined our kosher program barely knowing a word of Hebrew. One day, I’m in prison for services and I notice that he is praying in Hebrew as fluently as someone who grew up with it. That takes real dedication,” he notes, adding that some of the men regularly attend his lunch-and-learn classes after their release.
“I feel that prison is about rehabilitation,” he says. “I’m not there to judge them. They’ve been judged. I’m not here to punish them. They’ve been sentenced. I am here to help them live the rest of their lives and reach their potential from this day going forward.”

With Goldstein's intervention, Jedidiah Murphy had the long-awaited opportunity to don tefillin and celebrate his bar mitzvah, as he sits on death row in Texas.
‘You Can Always Find Light’
It took the rabbi three months to make arrangements for the tefillin for Murphy, but he was finally allowed to return to Polunsky Unit on Feb. 2 with it in hand.
“When he saw that I brought the tefillin for him, he smiled—and no one ever smiles on death row,” recalls Goldstein. “I had to give the guards the tefillinand kipah, as he was on the other side of a glass wall the whole time. He put a kipah on his head, and followed my lead as he wrapped the tefillin and said the Shema together. I purchased some chips and soda from the vending machine, and we had a bar mitzvah reception.”
Murphy asked to keep the kipah he wore that morning as a souvenir, as is commonly done by attendees at “normal” bar mitzvahs, but he was forbidden to do so.
He did have a photo taken, however. The rabbi paid the standard fee of $3, and a guard snapped a shot of the two of men separated by the glass wall.
“I know that people will be horrified by the fact that a man who committed murder is smiling in this picture, and I respect that,” acknowledges Goldstein, “but I sincerely believe that there is a spark of G‑d in each and every soul, and that my job as a rabbi is to reach into their souls and touch that spark to the best of my G‑d-given ability.
“Within the greatest darkness, you can always find light. Prisons—and especially death row—are the darkest places in the world. Can you imagine the light that came into the world when a Jewish inmate put on tefillin?” by MENACHEM POSNER
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Q&A: Rabbi Reflects on ‘The Infinity of One’
The teacher behind the Jewish.tv course on connecting to G-d. by Menachem Posner
Rabbi Yechezkel Kornfeld presents an in-depth exploration of the Chassidic understanding of G-d’s unity and His relationship to existence in a free course on Jewish.tv titled “The Infinity of One.”
Thousands of students around the world have been turning to Jewish.tv to joinRabbi Yechezkel Kornfeld for an in-depth exploration of the Chassidic understanding of G‑d’s unity and His relationship to existence as we know it,“The Infinity of One”
Rabbi Kornfeld, who has served the Jewish community in Washington state for more than 40 years, shares his personal journey to Chabad mysticism, as well as what he hopes the series will accomplish for learners of all backgrounds.
Q: Have you always been an adherent of Chabad?

A: Not at all. I grew up in Manhattan and had what you’d call a fairly typical Modern Orthodox Jewish upbringing. We attended synagogue; I went to a Jewish day school; and I was progressing exactly as I was supposed to. I was curious about Chassidim, but I had no special interest in Chabad. I wanted to get to know the more exotic types with the fur shtreimels on their heads, long robes and long sidelocks.
Q: What ultimately drew you to Chabad?
In my sophomore year at YeshivahUniversity High School, I heard that there was a student from the Chabad yeshivah, Avrohom Gerlitzky, who would come regularly to learn Tanya—the foundational work of Chabad Chassidism—with a group of guys. An older friend, Tzvi Telsner, urged me to go. So I went.
We hit it off almost immediately. Avrumi, as we called him, was a brilliant scholar, a first-rate Talmudist. Besides that, he opened up a world for me that I never knew existed. Growing up, we knew that there was a G‑d, and that we worshipped Him through learning Torah and performing mitzvahs. But we never actually questioned who G‑d was, and where we and He could interact. It was off-limits. I never knew that Judaism had the answer to those questions.
Through learning Tanya, I became familiar with terms and concepts that gave concrete and logical underpinnings to the Jewish practice I was so familiar with—and I was hooked.
After a while, I began traveling to Brooklyn, to the Chabad yeshivah in 770, to study Chassidus every Thursday night. I also began attending the farbrengens (the ones not on Shabbat) of the Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory.
Finally, after a year in college at Yeshiva University, I traveled to Kfar Chabad, Israel, where I enrolled in the yeshivah there. It was 1970, and I was among the last students to be able to study at the feet of Rabbi Shlomo Chaim Kesselman. He was a mashpia—a mentor and teacher of Chassidus—par excellence. It was a transformative experience.

Rabbi Shlomo Chaim Kesselman was a “mashpia,” a mentor and teacher of Chassidus, par excellence. (Photo: “HaMashpia”)
When I returned to the U.S., I was a full-fledged Chabad Chassid, steeped in the enlightening philosophy and empowering lifestyle of Chabad. I studied in 770 until 1974, when I married.
Q: What brought you to Washington?
A: In 1972, Rabbi Sholom Ber andChana Levitin founded a Chabad center in Seattle. Things were growing quickly, and they needed another couple to help out.
We settled near the Chabad center, and I worked with college students, day-school students, adult students—everyone.
In time, G‑d blessed us with a large family. Today, they’re all married. Most of them are Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries all over the world, living in places like London, South Africa, Florida and New Jersey. They keep us busy trying to see the grandchildren once in a while.
Around 10 years ago, I was asked to take the pulpit at Congregation Shevet Achim on Mercer Island in Lake Washington, east of Seattle.
Q: What is it that inspired you about the Chassidic approach?
A: As a Modern Orthodox student, I was stunned to discover that Judaism actually has an understanding of things that I thought were simply not discussed. I was so surprised to see Chabad students discussing these lofty matters in such a matter-of-fact way—to know the nature of our relationship with G‑d, the soul and how it all comes together just floored me.
Now, using relatable terms in plain English, I’m trying to share these very same concepts that lit up my life so many years ago. by MENACHEM POSNER
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Back in California, Woman Reflects on First Visit to Rebbe’s Ohel
A guest at the shluchos convention is proud to no longer have ‘to hide her religion.’ by Carin M. Smilk
Rimma Alexeeva, 63, visited the Ohel for the first time on Sunday as part of the four-day International Conference of Chabad-Lubavitch Female Emissaries (Kinus Hashluchos) in Brooklyn, N.Y. (Photo: Bassie Vorovitch)
Rimma Alexeeva is back home in San Carlos, Calif., which sits halfway between San Francisco to the north and San Jose to the south. She returned to 60-degree weather, which by Sunday is expected to reach nearly 70. It’s a far cry from last week, when she trudged through the slush and snow in New York City, wearing borrowed black boots and a white parka, necessary items for the drudge of a Northeast winter.
Soon, it will be Shabbat, when she will spend time with the older of her two sons and his family, who frequent the Richmond Torah Center-Chabad in San Francisco, co-directed by Rabbi Aaron and Sara Hecht.
And she plans to tell them about all the experiences she had as part of the guest program of the International Conference of Chabad-Lubavitch Women Emissaries (Kinus Hashluchos), which she attended for the first time.
There, the 63-year-old preschool teacher took part in classes, lectures, tours, prayer, meals and more while getting a good glimpse of the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn, N.Y., where the programming took place.
It was a chance for Alexeeva, a native of the former Soviet Union, to soak in Jewish practice, observing a lifestyle very different from her own.
“I never observed any Jewish traditions in Moscow, except eating matzah onPassover,” she said, pausing for the just the right words to tell her story. “So now I am discovering, learning, reading. I don’t have to hide my religion.”
‘A Quiet Place’
She said about four years ago, her older son met Rabbi Hecht, and the whole family started digging into their Jewish roots. She went to some classes at the Chabad center, including studying a bit of Tanya. Her 14-year-old granddaughter, especially, took learning to heart and now attends a Jewish school. She even drafted a handwritten note for Alexeeva to bring 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.

All eyes turned towards Rabbi Moshe Herson, the head Chabad-Lubavitch emissary in New Jersey and dean of the Rabbinical College of America in Morristown, N.J. (Photo: Bassie Vorovitch)

Rabbi Herson asked rhetorically, “So what are you doing here on a nice sunny day?” before answering, “To connect with the Rebbe and bring blessings back home.” (Photo: Bassie Vorovitch)
On Sunday, she and two busloads of women visited the sacred space.
They arrived in the early afternoon and quickly got to work drafting personal notes to be left at the Ohel (Hebrew for “tent”). Alexeeva clutched her granddaughter’s crumpled message as she jotted down her own private thoughts.
“It was a quiet place, a special place,” she said of the Ohel. “I was moved by it, as I was by all of the emotional stories the women had told about themselves” over four days of conference activities.
As the group moved pens across paper, they heard an inspiring talk by Rabbi Moshe Herson, head Chabad-Lubavitch emissary in New Jersey and dean of the Rabbinical College of America in Morristown, N.J. Then they stood and made their way outside to the resting place. Alexeeva blended into a sea of women crowded together for introspection, and the chance to voice their wishes and prayers asking the tzaddikim (“righteous men”) to petition G‑d on their behalf.
Was it what she expected?
“I only had a vague notion of the Ohel, from pictures,” she said.
Now, it’s real. And now, she wants to return, this time with her granddaughter. Until then, she’ll try and describe it, emphasizing its spirituality.
“I’m so proud to be Jewish,” uttered the grandmother of three. “I always knew I was Jewish, but now I feel Jewish. I am discovering what that means. And I never want to stop.”

“Every one of us, without exception, needs some blessings—for ourselves, our children, our communities,” said the rabbi. (Photo: Bassie Vorovitch)

Alexeeva, center, soaked in the encouraging words of Herson. (Photo: Bassie Vorovitch)

Women who were part of the Kinus guest program write notes before entering the Ohel. (Photo: Bassie Vorovitch)

Jotting down on paper inner hopes and wishes. (Photo: Bassie Vorovitch)

Two busloads of women came on Sunday afternoon for the visit, many for the very first time. (Photo: Bassie Vorovitch)

Making their way to the Ohel, which is Hebrew for "tent." (Photo: Bassie Vorovitch)

Lighting a candle before entering the Ohel. (Photo: Bassie Vorovitch)

The sun reflected off the snow, though the air was mild; birds could be heard chirping in the trees. (Photo: Bassie Vorovitch)

Handwritten notes (Photo: Bassie Vorovitch)

Heartfelt prayers (Photo: Bassie Vorovitch)

“It was a quiet place, a special place,” said Alexeeva, already wanting to return. (Photo: Bassie Vorovitch) by CARIN M. SMILK
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Tradition and Trendiness Coexist in Gentrifying Montreal Neighborhood
Remarkable change and a confluence of Jewish communities, old and new. by Menachem Posner
The Chassidic and the hip meld at a simcha in the Borough of Outremont in Montreal, Canada. Bearded and dancing at the center right is Rabbi Yudi Winterfeld, co-director of Chabad Mile End. (Pete Photographie: Julie & Jeremie)
On the northwestern slope of the iconic mountain that gave Montreal its name, the Borough of Outremont is a mix of stately but crumbling townhouses, converted warehouses, sleek luxury condo buildings, rambling mansions, and bars and boutiques common to an up-and-coming urban community.
The neighborhood is the seat of an established French-Canadian population and a growing Chassidic community that never moved out when most Jewish people left for the suburban promise of backyards and bucolic living during the 21st-century postwar building boom.
In recent years, Outremont and neighboring Mile End have also seen an influx of young people reflective of Montreal’s diverse population, including many Jews who are returning to the very same streets that their grandparents left decades earlier. One busy block on Park Avenue (the main thoroughfare), for instance, features a Satmar synagogue, bars, restaurants, a Yiddish printer, art galleries, a library, a natural store, hipster shops—and the local Chabadcenter.
Yet until recently, the shul-goers and the bar-hoppers didn’t mix.
“We simply had no idea how many Jews were living in the same blocks as we were,” says a local yeshivah teacher, known to all as Reb Aharon. “We would walk past each other on the street never realizing that we were one people.”
‘A Beacon of Light’

Changes in the neighborhood have given rise to an intermingling of Jews of various ages and from different backgrounds. (Pete Photographie: Julie & Jeremie)
Now, like many others in the community, Reb Aharon and his family regularly host young trendsetters at his home on Shabbatand Jewish holidays, largely a result of the dedicated work of Rabbi Yudi and Bruchy Winterfeld, Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries to Outremont and a cluster of other nearby neighborhoods.
“It’s unbelievable to think what one couple can accomplish,” says Reb Aharon. “They came in and made an upheaval in the community. We who had been living here for decades never realized how many Jews lived here. In no time, they found them. Even before they moved to the neighborhood, for their first Passover, they brought a caterer and set up a seder for 24 guests; it was mind-boggling.
Now, Rabbi Winterfeld is a fixture in the community, riding his bike with asukkah on the back for Sukkot and with a menorah on it during Chanukah. Chabad Mile End, as it is known, has become a beacon of light for the neighborhood.”
One of the regular guests at Reb Aharon’s table is David Prince, who often comes together with a French Canadian female friend currently in the process of converting to Judaism under the auspices of a local Orthodox rabbinical court.
Prince says he has met many Chassidim from a number of groups at the Winterfeld’s Chabad center. “It has this amazing cool vibe, where Jews of all types come together. I’ve met people from Belz and Satmar,” he says, “and they have been very gracious and open, inviting us to their homes for Shabbat dinner.”

Winterfeld, left, and a Chassidic friend help David Prince, center, affix a mezuzah to the doorpost of his apartment.
Regular Shabbat meals have exposed Prince (who has been keeping Shabbat for several months) and his companion to the palate of traditionalAshkenazi cooking (his mother is Moroccan), including kugel, kishke and other staples at the Chassidic tables they have frequented. In fact, he reports that she has begun cooking cholent, much to the amazement of her French Canadian friends.
“I was surprised by how open they are,” says Prince, who grew up in the heavily Jewish suburb of Côte-Saint-Luc and studied at the Chabad-run Rabbinical College of Canada as a child before transferring to public school. “There is a community spirit. Beyond just hanging out with people like me, I also have an outlet in a community that I was previously aware of, but had never really interacted with.
“Their priorities are different than other people I generally hang out with,” he reflects. “They concentrate on G‑d and their family. At the end of the day, they are amazingly optimistic people, but they share the same ups and downs as me. They work day in and day out to support their large families. Though it’s supposed to be a Jewish trait to kvetch, I have never heard anyone complain.”
Prince recalls going with his business partner to evening services at the local Belz synagogue.
“We were the only two people in the men’s section not wearing black. My pink shirt and his blue one made us stick out like two sore thumbs,” he recounts. “But we felt like celebrities since every other person came over to shake our hands. They were just so excited to have us there. It was a rock-star welcome!”

The neighborhood is the seat of an established French-Canadian population and a growing Chassidic community that never moved out when most Jewish people left for the suburbs during the 21st-century postwar building boom. (Photo: Eva Blue)
‘An Integral Part of the Mix’
For his part, Reb Aharon says inviting people over for Shabbat is something he always had in him. “I grew up in the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn and I would go to see the Rebbe [Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory] almost every Shabbat. My father, a Holocaust survivor from Galicia, would often bring home guests who were visiting 770 [LubavitchWorld Headquarters] for Shabbat meals, so the Lubavitch open approach is something I’ve always treasured.”
Winterfeld affirms that local Chassidic support has been crucial to his organization’s success from the get-go: “When we had our first services forRosh Hashanah in 2011, Chassidim prayed with us to make sure we would have a minyan [a prayer quorum of 10 Jewish men], and they’ve been an integral part of the mix ever since.”

Young people line up in front of the Outremont Theatre at 1248 Bernard Ave. West back in 1943. (Photo: Wikimedia Commons)

The Outremont Theatre in later years (Photo: Wikimedia Commons)
When the Winterfelds were looking for a place to host their Sukkot celebration, local residents came to the rescue again. At a fundraiser for Chabad at one of the neighborhood synagogues, the rabbi mentioned that he was looking for a place to build a sukkah. Immediately, someone offered use of his own, and the family of five was joined by 25 others for a meal that holiday.
The rabbi says a paradigm shift has taken place in the Chassidic community. “Years ago, people would have felt strange saying ‘Good Shabbos’ to someone from the outside. Now, they’re on the streets shaking the lulav with their neighbors, giving out menorahs before Chanukah and inviting them into their homes.
“We just moved into a trendy new loft, which has allowed us to really expand our events,” he continues. “We had 200 people in attendance for the High Holidays. If you’d look around the room at any given moment, you’d probably see around 25 percent Chassidic families sprinkled in among the others.
“But we don’t even look,” he states simply. “Everyone is a Jew, and that’s what counts.”

Yiddish, English and French mix seamlessly as women from the entire spectrum of the Outremont community came together to bake challah. While some of the Chassidic women had been baking since girlhood, it was a first-time experience for others.

Challah-bakers stood back to enjoy their handiwork—and the joy of doing a mitzvah.

At the annual Outremont public menorah-lighting are, from left: Rabbi Winterfeld, City Councillor Richard Ryan, Yaakov Pollack, Borough Councillor Mindy Pollack, Sheindy Pollack and Bruchy Winterfeld, who co-directs Chabad Mile End with her husband. by MENACHEM POSNER
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FROM THE RCII

How I Found My Place in the Jewish Community Despite My Disability
For decades, the status of Jews with disabilities was not discussed. The reasons are complex. by Martin Krossel
I turned 60 a few weeks ago. I’ve had cerebral palsy since birth. My speech is slurred, my gait is awkward and the use of my hands is impaired. I have lived much of my life as an observant Jew. I know what it’s like to function as a person with a disability and be active within the Jewish community.
For decades, the status of Jews with disabilities was not discussed. The reasons are complex. In part, they’re consequences of our people’s emphasis on academic and professional achievement. While some parents boasted about the accomplishments of their children, those whose children were unable to have such success were often silent. Another reason is that many parents have concerns that children with disabilities have enough to overcome without adding “extra” Jewish education or preparation for a bar orbat Mitzvah.
It is widely estimated that approximately 19 percent of the general population lives with a disability. There is no reason to believe that the incidence of disability is any lower among Jews. I suspect that many of us do not see Jews with disabilities actively participating in synagogues and Jewish organizations.
Jewish communities are now looking at how the needs of this segment of the population are and are not being met. What is missing in the conversation is the presence of Jews who have disabilities. Often there is a perception that people with disabilities are helpless individuals deserving of pity, or should be placed on pedestals for living courageous or heroic lives. Most of us merely struggle from day to day trying to lead fulfilling and productive lives.
For my 60th birthday, my wife and I sponsored the Shabbat kiddush at ourshul. The rabbi devoted his sermon to how inspirational I am for walking toshul every week, even when it’s sometimes difficult for me. Walking has become more difficult as I’ve gotten older. Still, talk of me being inspirational or heroic has always made me uncomfortable.
I know many people with disabilities who adopt distinctively Jewish lifestyles. I’ve done what hundreds of people do—allow our behavior to be shaped byhalachah as much as possible. I believe halachah to be divinely ordained. I have no dispensation from performing mitzvot to the best of my ability just because of my disability.
Having a disability is never a blessing or an advantage. There has never been a time when I didn’t wish that I didn’t have cerebral palsy. It makes everything, including living Jewishly, more difficult. People with disabilities often say that their greatest challenges come from the actions and attitudes of other people, not from the disability itself.
I sometimes deal with people who think that I have an intellectual disability. My parents couldn’t find a congregational Hebrew school that would accept me as a student. The administrators of every congregational school in my native Toronto claimed that I couldn’t handle a religious education in addition to my secular studies. Fortunately, a small, family-run Hebrew school in Toronto taught me Hebrew, Torah and prayer, and trained me for my bar mitzvah.
In saying that my disability is a burden, I also appreciate the ways in which I have been blessed. I was blessed with parents who drove me to strive and succeed. They expected me to excel educationally and professionally, and be Jewishly literate. Dad wanted me to have an intensive Jewish education. He didn’t consider mere preparations to chant at my bar mitzvah adequate. Every Shabbat, we studied the weekly Torah portion. Synagogue attendance, on Shabbat and weekday mornings, became my regular routine.
In early adulthood, I started to attend a minyan—the “Downstairs Minyan” at Toronto’s large Shaarei Shomayim synagogue, where Rabbi Chaim Sacknowitz taught one Jewish law every Shabbat. Rabbi Sacknowitz’sminyan became the center of my social life. Although it’s been 19 years since I left Toronto, I still have many of the friendships I developed there.
As a university undergraduate, I took a number of courses in Jewish history and philosophy. Today, Rabbi Mendel Silberstein studies Talmud with me for an hour every week.
All of this helped me make up for the intensive early Jewish education that I would like to have had. Even so, I miss not having the opportunity to attend a Jewish day school.
My disability has been and always will be part of who I am. I try not to let to let it define me. As a journalist, my work is judged solely on its merit, without being colored by my disability. I’m more interested in readers knowing my take on the latest twist in Middle East politics or Jewish communal affairs than about living with my disability. by MARTIN KROSSEL
Martin Krossel is a freelance political journalist living in New York. This article contains excerpts from an earlier article published in The Times of Israel.
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 Sarah Kranz.
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LIFESTYLE

Pulled Beef Tacos with Pico de Gallo by Miriam Szokovski
Crunchy taco shells filled with warm shredded beef, piled high with fresh salsa, cool and creamy non-dairy sour cream and avocado. . . . These tacos were even better than I expected.
Make sure you keep lots of napkins on hand, because they are as messy as they are delicious.

Good news! This is the same meat recipe I used for my pulled beef and coleslaw sandwiches a couple of weeks ago. You can make one batch of meat and use it for both meals. It also freezes well and defrosts quickly, so you can make a lot, divide it up, freeze it, and pull out a container or two as needed.
Once your meat is cooked (which you can do in advance), the rest is quick and easy to assemble, making this a convenient weeknight dinner.

Make sure you stick with fresh lime, not the bottled stuff. It makes all the difference.
Note: I’m generally not a fan of non-dairy cheeses and sour cream, and I try to stay away from them. But in this case I waived that. The tacos were just so much better with the sour cream. I definitely recommend it.

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 tacos.
Meat keeps well in either the refrigerator or freezer.
Pico de Gallo Ingredients:
3 tomatoes, diced
1 small purple onion, diced
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro
Juice of ½ a lime
Salt to taste
Optional: 1 small green jalapeño pepper, sliced
Pico de Gallo Directions:
Mix all the ingredients together.
Best served immediately, but you can make and refrigerate a few hours ahead.
You will also need:
Taco shells
Avocado
Non-dairy sour cream
(Lots of napkins!)
To assemble:
Spoon the pulled beef into the taco shells.
Top with pico de gallo, avocado and non-dairy sour cream.
Eat and enjoy.

by MIRIAM SZOKOVSKI

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.
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Art of the Week: The Cherubim by Yoram Raanan
And you shall make two golden cherubim; you shall make them of hammered work, from the two ends of the ark cover. And make one cherub from the one end and the other cherub from the other end; from the ark cover you shall make the cherubim on its two ends. The cherubim shall have their wings spread upwards, shielding the ark cover with their wings, with their faces toward one another…I will arrange My meetings with you there, and I will speak with you from atop the ark cover from between the two cherubim that are upon the Ark of the Testimony… (Exodus 25:18-22)
These golden cherubim face each other with outstretched wings, portraying their role as a symbol of love. They sit among red roses against a blue background. The Talmud tells us that the cherubim embraced each other when there was closeness between the Israelites and G‑d, and turned away from each other when the people went astray. When the Babylonian conquerors broke into the Temple and entered the Holy of Holies, they saw the cherubim embracing. This shows that even in the worst of times, the love between G‑d and the Jewish people endures.
This piece of art was inspired by a commission to paint the love story depicted in the Song of Songs, which is understood as a metaphor for the relationship between G‑d and Israel. This love song parallels the cherubim in the Holy of Holies. See how the cherubim seem to be kissing. Both kisses and roses are frequent symbols in the Song of Songs, which opens with: “Let Him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.” In the commentaries kisses are understood as mystical secrets of the Torah which G‑d imparts “mouth to mouth” to His nation, who are compared to roses. When the Holy Temple stood, G‑d's voice gave over His secrets from the space between the cherubim. There are kabalistic writings which say that in our time the cherubim upon the Ark symbolize the future revelation, may it be soon. by YORAM RAANAN
Yoram Raanan takes inspiration from living in Israel, where he can fully explore and express his Jewish consciousness. The light, the air, the spirit of the people and the land energize and inspire him. His paintings include modern Jewish expressionism with a wide range of subjects ranging from abstract to landscape, biblical and Judaic.
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