Musings of a Maidel

The Car Door and A Bad Day

2011-03-31T12:59:00.002-04:00

I had an interesting experience this morning.

I was in a good mood. I parked my car in the parking lot at work with a smile on my face. I would’ve been whistling had I known how to whistle. I opened my car door with a little too much force and grazed the car next to me.

Oops.

I checked to make sure there was no damage to the other car – there wasn’t – and proceeded to walk towards the office building, still smiling.

“Excuse me.”

I looked around. I looked up at the office building next to me. I didn’t see anyone, so I continued walking.

“Excuse me, miss.” A little louder this time.

Finally I found the voice.

There was a man sticking his head out of the second floor window, apparently intent on ruining my day.

“You just slammed your door open into my ****** truck!!!”

“Did I? I’m sorry.”

“Of course you’re sorry.” Slam.

Sheesh. Did he get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. And how did he see me anyway? Does he stick his head out of the window all day checking to make sure that no one damages his precious car?

As I continued walking to my office, my smile turned contemplative.

This guy was having a bad day. He chose to take it out on me. Did I do something wrong? Maybe. Did what I did warrant his attack on me? Probably not.

Did I want to let this sourpuss put me in an awful mood for the rest of the day? Absolutely not!

And then it hit me harder than my car door hit the other guy’s car.

My mood is my own.

I alone control how I feel.

If I choose to let something bother me, well then, that’s my problem. If, however, I choose to let things roll off my back, kol hakavod for me. Why should I let my day be spoiled by someone else’s bad day?

And I walked into my office attempting to whistle.

Rosh Chodesh Shevat Repost

2011-01-06T15:42:00.000-05:00

A gutten Chodesh to all.

Here's something I posted last year about Rosh Chodesh Shevat.

Enjoy!

A Wifely Song

2011-01-03T16:42:00.000-05:00

This is to the tune of Uncle Moishy's Jumping Song. I'm trying to find a link to the tune for those of you who don't know it, but it's eluding me. If anyone finds it, can you post it in a comment?

This is a washing song, a washing song, a washing song,
Washing, washing dishes, being careful as I do
This is a washing song, a washing song, a washing song
Washing, washing dishes until I am quite through

Chorus:
אשת חיל מי ימצא
Let’s go about our day with love
אשת חיל מי ימצא
And make our home one to be proud of

This is a sweeping song, a sweeping song, a sweeping song,
Sweeping, sweeping, sweeping all the dirt into one place
This is a sweeping song, a sweeping song, a sweeping song,
Sweeping, sweeping, sweeping until there is clean space

Chorus

This is a mopping song, a mopping song, a mopping song
Mopping, mopping, mopping slopping water all around
This is a mopping song, a mopping song, a mopping song
Mopping, mopping, mopping until no dirt is to be found

Chorus

This is a laundry song, a laundry song, a laundry song
Sorting, washing clothing so we have what to wear
This is a laundry song, a laundry song, a laundry song
Drying, folding clothing so we will not go bare (I’ll do it with flair)

Chorus

This is a supper song, a supper song, a supper song
Cooking, cooking supper so we’ll have what to eat
This is a supper song, a supper song, a supper song
Cooking, cooking supper so we can stay upbeat

Chorus

This is a Shabbos song, a Shabbos song, a Shabbos song
Cooking, cleaning, setting so we can greet the Shabbos queen
This is a Shabbos song, a Shabbos song, a Shabbos song
Cooking, cleaning, setting until everything’s pristine

Chorus

This is a wifely song, a wifely song, a wifely song
Smiling, laughing happily as we get it all done
This is a wifely song, a wifely song, a wifely song
Building a home for our families is our goal long-run

Chorus

Footsteps in the Snow

2010-12-27T17:14:00.003-05:00

When I walked out of my apartment this morning, it was into a winter wonderland (excuse the cliché). The snow was around two feet deep and basically untouched. It was the beautiful white that only exists when the snow is new and has not yet been sullied by association with New York.

Being that the snow was unshoveled, it was hard to get one foot in front of the other without sinking all the way down, past the top of my boots. Finally, I remembered that if you put your feet into the footsteps of others, it's easier to walk because you can see how deep your foot will go.

So that's what I did.

Wherever he (I assume it was a he because the footsteps were so much bigger than mine) went, I followed. When those footsteps stopped, I followed another pair, and then another, until I got to where I needed to go.

It struck me as I was walking that this is a mashal to life.

We go through our lives, and it's hard and challenging at times. Sometimes we sink into bitterness and depression. Sometimes we're not clear on where we need to go. Sometimes, we know where to go, but we just can't get there. And sometimes, we don't know when one wrong step will cause us to fall.

It's at those times that we need to follow footsteps that are bigger than ours. Our gedolim – past and present – have walked the path that we are walking. They blazed the Torah path; now it's up to us to follow it.

My Mother and Me

2010-12-24T11:08:00.001-05:00

What is it about almost losing someone that brings home how important they are to you?

My mother recently underwent surgery. Due to complications from the surgery and various other risk factors, she developed a possibly fatal condition that was B"H caught before it could actually become fatal.

But the danger was real.

I've had my differences with my mother in the past – teenage angst and whatnot. We're too much alike and too different at the same time to live together on a regular basis without some kind of fiery display every week or so.

That's ended.

I'm married now, out of the house. I come and go, call to wish good Shabbos, bring over my laundry and raid her cabinets. We've become closer, more equal, with me gaining confidence in our relationship that no longer blows up in my face every so often. Of course, there are still ups and downs. Our relationship isn't perfect, but I see more potential than I used to.

Since the surgery and the complication that arose from it, I'm starting to view my mother differently. I imagine my life without her in it, and I can't see it.

The gaping hole in the tapestry of my life that would exist if I lost her C"V is too raw to exist. Its ragged edges tear at me as I reflect on how badly I've treated her in the past. How casually I treated her, how little I appreciated her.

She loves me like no one else in the world can. She waited for me for so many years, bore me for 9 pain-filled months, delivered me through hours of labor, and this is how I've been treating her?? What's wrong with me? Where is my hakaras hatov?

But now that I almost lost her, I can see things more clearly.

I can see her love for me even when she's at her most annoying. I can see that the things about her that most grate on my nerves are really just her way of expressing that love.

And I can see my love for her and draw on it so I can be the daughter she needs me to be at this critical time.

So, what is it about almost losing someone that brings out how important they are to you? It's the shift in your view of the world – a world without that person – and the realization that it's a much better place with them in it.

Long Time No Speak

2010-12-21T17:53:00.001-05:00

You know how it is when you call up a friend you haven't spoken to in a while? You finally work up the courage to call, and it's just so.... stilted. There's that awkward "hi, it's me. How are you?" that starts off the conversation. Then there's that standard silence where the other person tries to figure out who you are and why you're calling. When they finally place you, there's an "Oh hi! What's new with you?" and the conversation (if there is any) flows from there.

Lately, though, it's been worse. Every time I speak to someone I haven't spoken to since I got married they ask "Nu, so how's married life?"

I've kinda been feeling that way about the blog. I've wanted to write. It's been so long since my last post and I've had a lot to say (most of which have gone the way of all good thoughts - out of memory).

But I've been scared of the awkward silence. Of all my readers having gone on to more frequently posted pastures. Of calling into the blogosphere and having everyone be thinking "Musing Maidel, who's that?"

But I've bitten the bullet.

I've said something.

Hi. How are you? How've you been the last few months? I'm back in the world of the posting and hope to pop in relatively frequently.

And yes, B"H, married life is wonderful. Busy, but wonderful...

Two Weeks and Counting...

2010-10-04T08:22:00.004-04:00

Countdownr

Succos Repost

2010-09-22T17:22:00.001-04:00

I'm too much of a KBS-er to come up with a new torah thought, so I'm reposting the one from last year - Hoshanos and Hakafos.

Enjoy!

Also, I was talking to a friend of mine about sheitels. IY"H, I'm going to be wearing one in a few short weeks, but I find that my attitude towards it is that I'm excited to wear a sheitel as a symbol of the fact that I'm married, and nothing else. The main reason I'm excited about it is out of laziness (no more doing my hair :D), not of any type of ruchniyus thing.

So now I'm looking for thoughts. Anyone have any interesting/inspiring thoughts on sheitels? Why do we wear them? What should our attitude be toward them? Links and recommendations for books and articles welcome.

Don't all shout out at once!

The Ultimate Kallah Brain

2010-09-21T00:23:00.000-04:00

Before I got engaged, I heard rumors of the Kallah Brain syndrome, or KBS. It is a genetic disorder that is triggered upon engagement. Its symptoms include dreamy smiles, twinkling eyes, and a distinct preoccupation with a certain someone to the exclusion of all others. It then progresses to an air of general forgetfulness, preoccupation, and selfishness, which means to say that those diagnosed with KBS have no time for anything and anyone not wedding- or post-wedding- related. Especially their still uninfected friends.

It is very easy to diagnose those suffering from KBS. If someone you know has recently gotten engaged and has continued on to the wedding planning stage, be on the lookout for the telling signs of KBS. Sufferers thereof are a menace to society and should be stopped at all costs.

In all seriousness, though, KBS is easy to diagnose in others; not so much in yourself. Ever since I got engaged, as I wrote in my first NEF post, my friends have been telling me that I'm the worst (or best) NEF they've ever seen. One particular friend who I spoke to very often while I was going out with TLC would make fun of me all the at the beginning of my engagement. Everyone told me that I was a floaty kallah to top all floaty kallahs.

But somehow, I didn't see it. Until today, that is.

It was finally brought home to me that I am indeed a sufferer of KBS. In fact, my case is probably one of the worst ones known to femalekind.

In one day, I had three KBS-induced moments that I feel the urge to share for some reason, but only one of them is still funny in writing, so I'll only share one.

It happened as I was leaving the office today. I got into the elevator (my office is on the 6th floor) and waited to get out. And waited. And waited. Until finally, I realized that the elevator was no longer moving. Uh oh. It must have gotten stuck. I looked at the panel that says what floor the elevator was up to. And lo and behold, it was still at 6. One very KBS-y kallah had forgotten to press the 1 button.

One can argue that such circumstantial evidence as the above story does not render a person a sufferer of KBS. But the signs of my stricken-ness are clear.

I think this post proves it. If it doesn't make any sense, and I'm sure it doesn't, just remewell - I'm a KBS-er, and that excuses anything :D

G'mar Chasima Tova to All!

2010-09-17T12:52:00.000-04:00

May we all be inscribed in the Book of Life this year.

I never know what to say at times like these, so I'm going to borrow from Staying Afloat.

I ask that if I have accidentally offended or slighted someone in a post or a comment, or through omission, that you please forgive me for the oversight.

Hope you all have an easy, meaningful, and prayerful fast.

Y'malei Hashem Kol Mishalos Libchem L'tova
(May Hashem answer all the wishes of your heart - for good)

No Comment

2010-09-07T17:22:00.000-04:00

Sorry for the radio silence folks. I did warn you...

It's not so much that I have nothing to say, but that I have no time to say it in.

So far, we have a couch, an apt, a bedroom set, a china closet, a table, some bookcases, flatware, and lots of other things.

I've picked out 2 sets of corelle, 1 of china.

I have my leichter and a tray to put it on.

We have the wedding basically planned - all that's left to do is send out the invitations (which we don't have yet - help!) and pick out the flowers.

There are lots of stuff that we don't yet have, but are conveniently listed on our registry at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. (If you feel the urge to give, email me, and I'll give you the name to search for :D)

That's all for now. Ksiva V'Chasima Tova and a gut g'bentched yur. This year should be one of brocha, hatzlocha, simcha, and yeshuah for us and all of klal yisroel. If I have accidentally hurt someone with what I said on my blog or in comments, I publicly ask your mechila and hope you forgive me - out loud.

Daven well everyone!

My Bubby, My Wedding, and Me

2010-08-24T12:10:00.003-04:00

I’m five years old. Long Shabbos afternoons are so boring. The only thing that breaks the monotony is Bubby; she’s willing to play with me. We play the same game every Shabbos. We take one of my crinolines – one that has an attached undershirt – and use it as my gown. A half slip goes over my hair as a veil.

And every Shabbos afternoon, Bubby walks me down the long hallway of her apartment to meet my chosson. The hallway stretches from the back of the apartment all the way to the front, miles to my young eyes. Bubby is dressed in her Shabbos best, her short, ashy-blond sheitel and Shabbos clothes that only my Bubby can wear.

Together, we walk down the aisle to meet my imaginary chosson. He always has the same name: Moshe Zacks. I’m not sure where that name came from. I have no recollection of ever having met a Moshe Zacks. But somehow, I know that that’s my chosson’s name.

We walk down the hallway with measured steps, circle the designated chair seven times, and lift up my makeshift veil.

I’m married. Again.

Time passes. I’ve grown up a bit. Now I’m almost ten.

Bubby’s been in the hospital, and I don’t know why. I’m too young for adults to tell me what’s wrong, too young to understand what’s happening, too young to comprehend what happens when death touches a family.

Too young to lose my only grandmother.

But I did.

She won’t be with me when I walk down the aisle to meet my real chosson (whose name is not Moshe Zacks). She won’t be there to help me get dressed in the pristine white gown that I’m going to wear to walk down the aisle with measured steps. She won’t hold my hand as I circle him seven times to build the wall around him as we start our new lives together.

And she won’t be there to hug me and wish us mazel tov as we make our way back from the chupa. She won’t be there to dance with me; she won’t be there to wish me joy in my new life.

She won’t be there to see her great-grandchildren that I hope to bring into this world. And she won’t be there to watch me raise them in her derech.

Most of all, she won’t be there to alleviate the boredom of my five year old daughters by playing the same game on those long Shabbos afternoons. She won’t be there to dress my daughters in crinolines and slips and walk them down the long hallway of her apartment to meet their imaginary chassanim.

Every Shabbos afternoon.

Oh, Family!

2010-08-15T15:15:00.000-04:00

There's nothing like a wedding to get relatives crawling out of the woodworks.

My mother and I were just working on our invitation list, and you wouldn't believe how many relatives we have that I've never even met. Sure, I know Great Aunt Sophy, and I vaguely remember seeing a 20 year old picture of her husband who died 15 years ago when I was about 6 years old. But I have zero recollection of ever having met her assorted nieces, nephews, and grandchildren who apparently all have to be invited to my wedding.

And that's just Aunt Sophy.

We mustn't forget about Great-great-Uncle Louis. Great-great-uncle Louis vanished from the family tree 60 years ago when he came to America and cut off his peyos to work on Shabbos, but suddenly we have to invite all 60 of his grandchildren even though we haven't seen hide nor hair of them since 10 years before I was born.

And the list goes on ... Aunt Shirley, Tante Faigy, Bubby Suzanne, ...

They come from all sides and corners of the globe. They come in all shapes and colors, all streaks and designs.

And they all need to be invited to the wedding.

I wonder if we'll be able to invite anyone we actually know to this wedding of mine. With all these related strangers, we'll have no problem hitting even the largest minimum at any hall.

The only question is if my parents and I can make it. Will we fit???

(Just so you know, I'm totally exaggerating. I don't have that many relatives. Almost, but not quite. But we are inviting plenty of family members that I've never heard of.)

Top 10 Thoughts of an NEF

2010-08-10T08:13:00.000-04:00

As one of the newly engaged (fondly [or not so fondly :)] known as an NEF), I consider myself somewhat of an expert on what it is that an NEF thinks about. Truthfully, I can only say this from my own recent experience, but everything mentioned has gone through my head at least once.

10.   I have a chosson. I HAVE A CHOSSON. I HAVE A CHOSSON!?!?!?!?
9.   Look at the clouds go by … things are so lovely up here on cloud 9 … the rainbows are so pretty … the sky is so blue ...
8.    The wedding is all planned, but there’s so much I need to do. I need to get my pots, pans, silverware, china, paper goods, sheva brochos outfits, get my ring sized, pick up the dry cleaning, cook for Shabbos because my chosson is coming over, call my inlaws, go to my chosson’s sister’s niece’s wedding, run to work, run to the store, do my homework….
7.   My chosson is coming. I have to go do my hair and makeup so I can look beautiful for him.
6.   This isn’t really happening. These kinds of things only happen to other girls. They get engaged – not me.
5.   I’m getting married. I’M GETTING MARRIED. I’M GETTING MARRIED?!?!?
3.   Rose colored glasses really change your perspective on things.
2.   I have a chosson. I HAVE A CHOSSON. I HAVE A CHOSSON!?!?!?!?

And the number one thought running through an NEF's mind (at least this NEF) -
1.   I’m no longer in shidduchim!!!!!!!! I don’t have to worry about what the shadchanim are going to think of me because the only one who matters now is the chosson – and if he’s not seeing me, I don’t need to really get dressed.

NOTE: Yes, I know #4 is missing, but come on - have you ever seen an NEF who could count?

MAZEL TOV!!!!!

2010-08-09T08:40:00.000-04:00

It seems that a wave of engagements is sweeping the blogosphere, B"H. I just became a kallah. My chosson (hereafter to be known as TLC [the lucky chosson]) has been keeping me busy, so I haven't had much time to post. (I did also have a lot of weddings, but that wasn't the only reason for the lack of posting - it was just an excuse :D.)

For all those who are curious, I told him about my blog on our second date, but he didn't find out the URL until Sunday morning, which was a little awkward... (me: "You can't read it - it's private!" TLC: "You can show it to the world, but not to me?" me: "It's different when random strangers are reading it etc."). It's OK - we worked it out. Maybe one day I'll ask him to guest post.

This marks the beginning of a new epoch in my blogging life as SIBW said. I'm no longer in shidduchim (Chasdei Hashem Ki Lo Samnu), but I'm not married yet. I am an NEF (Newly Engaged Friend), and my friends tell me I'm the worst (or the best :) ) NEF they've ever had.

So, stay tuned for a new series - from the mind of an NEF ...

(I'm sorry if this post doesn't really make sense - I'm still on the post-vort, having-TLC-and-his-parents-over-for-shabbos exhaustion stage)

Sorry, no post

2010-07-26T08:39:00.002-04:00

Baruch Hashem, I've had a busy last week or so. What with tisha b'av, and then weddings every night, plus working full time (or as full time as I'm able with all these weddings :) ), I haven't had much time to think, let alone write up a post. Bli neder, I'll be back soon when I have time to breathe.

Until then, oif simchos!

Scarred Hearts

2010-07-15T13:35:00.001-04:00

Children are more emotional than adults. When I was younger, the tears were so close to the surface, anything could set them off. If I got hurt, even the teeniest scratch, I would cry. If I heard of someone else getting hurt, I would cry. And if I heard of someone in emotional pain, my heart went out to them.

Every pain that I heard of, every time that I cried scarred my heart. It had been fresh, young, unblemished. But as I grew older, each tzara that I heard about added another layer of scar tissue to the surface of my heart.

And then the defense mechanism kicked in.

If something is known to hurt you, you're not going to chase after it. More likely, you'd run away. When a heart mangled with so many tzaros, so many wounds and scars, realizes what causes its pain, it shuts itself off. Emotion is still there. But the outreach, the feeling for others just …

Disappears.

And now, I can no longer bring out the emotion for others that I used to have. That empathy is not gone, but severely depleteed. When I hear of a tzaar in klal yisroel, I don't cry. I maybe say a kapitol tehillim, but I can't find the tears. I can't find the emotion that used to define me.

Sometimes it hits close to home. That girl who just had twins – Chana Ruchama b-s Tziporah Faiga (she should have a refuah shleima) – is my age. She's my friend's friend. That hurt. But not as much as it would have hurt 10, 5, even 1 year ago. There's just too much tzaar.

The thing is that we as Yidden have an achrayus to be there for our brethren. We have to physically remove the scabs on our hearts and let them feel what we need them to feel. As Yechezkel says (36:26)והסרתי את-לב האבן, מבשרכם, ונתתי לכם, לב בשר (I will remove the stone heart from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh).

The second Beis Hamikdash was destroyed because of Sinas Chinam (baseless hatred).

Now is the time to fix this mistake so we can greet mashiach on Tuesday.

Now is the time to get rid of our scars and hearts of stone and replace them with a flesh, loving heart that can open itself to the rest of klal yisroel.

Parshas Matos-Maasei

2010-07-07T17:03:00.003-04:00

Taken from Rabbi Baruch Lederman's ShulWeek

The Torah gives very explicit instructions. The Torah tells us what to do. It also tells us how, when and where to do it. Every detail is spelled out. Just like using a washing machine, when you read and adhere to the directions, all will be well. If not, things will go awry, as the following true story, documented in Parsha Parables by Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky, illustrates:

It was the eve of December 25th, 1776. General George Washington was reeling from his crushing defeats in New York. In a bold and daring move, he had decided to cross the ice-filled Delaware River and attack Trenton, New Jersey. He planned to surprise the thousands of Hessian troops guarding that portal. He did not know that his surprise attack was almost no surprise. A farmer, a British sympathizer knocked on the door where the Hessian Commander, Colonel Johann Rall was attending a holiday party. Rall had always scoffed at the thought of attack, boasting, "Those clod-hoppers will not attack us!"

The farmer had heard of the plans and seen the movement across the shore. He wanted to get the message to the Colonel but he could not get past a servant who accepted a note which spelled out Washington's plans and handed it to the commander. Rall, however, was in the middle of a card game and would not be interrupted. He stuffed the paper in his pocket without even glancing at it. He continued playing through the night until he collapsed from drunken exhaustion.

At dawn, Washington attacked. His ammunition was so waterlogged that his troops could hardly fire a shot. They did not need to. The Hessians were drowsy from the previous night's festivities and the Colonial Army's bayonets were as sharp as the troops' spirit. After an overwhelming onslaught in which the colonists took nearly 900 prisoners, Rall who was mortally wounded, surrendered. As the doctor cut away his jacket, a note fell out. Rall read it and mournfully said, "If I only had read this last night, I would not be here today."

The Rosh Yeshiva or Chofetz Chaim ztl, told us that when he was a youth, he told his father, Reb Dovid Leibowitz ztl, that he was thinking about becoming a doctor instead of a Rabbi. His father replied, "Try preventive medicine." He was telling his son that if we learn and follow the dictates of the Torah our lives will be enriched both physically and spiritually.

Dedicated by Anonymous for the release of Gilad Shalit.

On Being Old

2010-06-29T08:25:00.002-04:00

Every Shabbos, I visit this little old lady, Mrs. Gold. She’s very cute, a real young at heart 90-something year old. She loves it when we come, singing Yiddish songs, telling us about her week, and sharing stories of her life.

One particular story that she loves to tell over and over again is about herself and a handsome young doctor. He was young, single, and good looking. All the women would go to the beauty parlor and hair salon to get made up before they went to visit Dr. Dave. Though all the ladies fancied Dr. Dave, Dr. Dave fancied Mrs. Gold (before she married Mr. Gold, of course :P). Mrs. Gold’s first name is Dina, and Dr. Dave would chase after her saying “Dina, I want my dinna (dinner).”

She always ends this story with a little nostalgic smile, as if she wishes that she had married Dr. Dave.

I was thinking about it a few weeks ago.

When this lady (may she live until 120) passes on, one of the things I will most remember her for is this story of Dr. Dave, as well as the other stories she tells us every week.

The thing is that nearly all the stories she tells are from her early 20s – the age I am now.

What we do today becomes our stories of tomorrow, next year, ten years, fifty years from now.

I want my stories to be good ones. Stories of chessed and kindness, of selflessness and giving.

And if that’s the way I want to be remembered, I’d better start living up to that future memory.

Now.

Random Question

2010-06-22T15:55:00.000-04:00

Does anyone else find the journey's song "The Shadchan" (lyrics here and sample music here) depressing?

I feel like it's supposed to be inspiring; I even saw a website call it whimsical. But somehow, I always feel like crying when I hear it. Lately (read: since I started shidduchim), I've just been skipping it whenever it comes up.

Anyone else out there feel this way?

Straightening my Priorities

2010-06-14T22:39:00.002-04:00

Well, finals are finally over, so now I can focus on what’s really important in life – life itself and the lessons that it teaches me. I’ve been sitting on this for a while, but this is the first chance I’ve had to write it down.

I was at my friend’s house towards the end of shabbos a few weeks ago. I was sitting on the couch talking to my friend, and her 11 year old brother was reading near us. It was getting close to the time for ma’ariv. He didn’t show any signs of letting go of his book, so I told him to put it down and go.

He refused.

I asked him again, but in a different way – “What’s more important to you, davening ma’ariv or reading your book?”

Surprisingly (or not so surprisingly), he answered “my book.”

I wasn’t shocked at his answer, but I was kind of upset. I kept thinking, “How could he consider his book more important than davening to Hakadosh Baruch Hu?! How could he have his priorities so backwards?”

It kept bothering me until I realized something.

It’s always easier to see faults in others than in ourselves. The thing is that the faults we subconsciously look for in others are those that hold sway within us. As the pasuk in Mishlei (27:19) says, כַּמַּיִם, הַפָּנִים לַפָּנִים-- כֵּן לֵב-הָאָדָם, לָאָדָם. (“As in water, face answers to face, so is the heart of a man to a man.”) A person sees himself reflected in his perception of others.

What I saw in my friend’s brother was a flaw, but it was a chisaron (lack) that I myself have.

Since then, I’ve been thinking about my t’fila. I’ve noticed a real lack in kavana (concentration). I’m constantly distracted by other things. I push davening off until the last minute before the zman (time limit). I think about school or work or anything that’s not davening. I hardly look at the words inside my siddur.

And I ask myself, as I asked my friend’s brother a few weeks ago, “What’s more important to you, davening or <fill in blank>?! ___ or speaking to Hakadosh Baruch Hu?!”

And I’m scared to hear my own answer.

Parshas B'haaloscha

2010-05-28T10:36:00.000-04:00

I really love the dvar torah I posted this week last year, which I originally wrote for our seminary year book. I couldn't resist reposting it.

And, can I just pat myself on the back - this is my fourth post this week! (Although Rashi's Wife was a bit of a mix-up.) Procrastination is really the key for getting those creative juices going. I had a final project due yesterday, and I was trying anything and everything to avoid doing it =) . But, now it's done and Touro finals are starting, so I may not be able to post much.

Rashi's Wife

2010-05-26T16:27:00.011-04:00

I'm scared of marriage.

There.

I've said it.

I'm scared of the responsibility that comes with wifehood. The power that a wife has over her husband. The power to make or break him.

I want to marry someone in learning who will stay in learning ... for a while. How long that while will be will depend on him and me and the choices we will make together. But when I think about the future, when I picture myself with a nameless, faceless man at my side, I don't see him in kolel.

I see him working. As what? That's up to him. When? That's up to us. But definitely someday.

So when a bochur is redt to me, and he's a top learner, a true masmid, about whom people say that he could be the next gadol hador or Rosh Yeshiva, I get scared.

He may have the potential to be the next Rashi, but do I have the potential to be the next Rashi's wife?

And when I think about a marriage between me and this type of bachur, I think about the story of the Netziv as a boy. He had almost been apprenticed to a shoemaker. That night, he had a dream that he was in shamayim and saw the sefer HaAmek Davar with him as the author. When he told the malachim that he hadn't written this sefer, they asked him "Why not?" He decided to stay in yeshiva so that he would learn enough to write the sefer he was destined to write.

I'm scared to be the "apprentice-ship" of my future husband. Scared that I'll pull him away from learning and becoming the best he can be.

"חכמות נשים, בנתה ביתה; ואולת, בידיה תהרסנו"

Will I build?

Or c"v, destroy?

♪ Happy Blogoversary to me ♪

2010-05-25T13:23:00.001-04:00

Today's my blogoversary, so I'll reward my patient readers with an extra post this week. Don't get your hopes up - it's not much of anything.

First of all, I came across a beautiful post by Rachel Simon, author of one of my favorite books Riding the Bus with my Sister - for special sibs, it's a must-read. I first heard about it at the Yachad family shabbaton when I was in 12th grade, and it went a long way to helping me accept my sister and myself as who we are. I actually corresponded with the author once or twice.

Second, I wanted to remind you of a post long ago relegated to the archives - my first real post, actually. I just reread it and was surprised at its profundity. Let me know what you think (here or there).

Third, I wanted to reflect on what I've gained in the last year of blogging. I've definitely matured as a writer and thinker. My musings make more sense, have more validity, even in my own head. Sharing with all of you has really given me the means to refine myself, and I truly appreciate all of my readers - whoever they may be.

So, keep those comments coming, and stay tuned for next week's post!

Sharing in Simcha

2010-05-24T18:46:00.000-04:00

Another friend of mine - a really close one - got engaged last night.

She called me up before it was official to share the amazing news (what's with that btw? why do people need to know before it's official? But that's another rant...). When my cell phone rang, and I saw it was her, I thought for a second "She never calls me - she must be engaged." Then I remembered that this particular girl does call me relatively often and disregarded that errant thought.

After she told me that she gets a mazel tov but before I had a chance to respond, I waited for the pain.

I waited for the bittersweet happiness that I felt the last time a friend of mine got engaged, but it never did.

I was thinking about it last night as I was on a total high for her - almost more excited than she was - and trying to keep the news from my parents (unsuccessfully) and our other friends (managed to do so by staying far away from them...). Why is it that the news of this other girl's engagement hurt, but this news didn't? Why was I able to keep my simcha for this friend complete, but the joy for the other was mixed with pain?

And I realized that a close friend getting engaged is very different than a girl--you-kinda-know-because-you're-neighbors/classmates/coworkers-but aren't-really friends-with getting engaged.

The girl you kinda know is just another number. She's just another girl who's getting engaged before you. Another girl that you have to smile at and wish mazel tov to when all you want is to be the kallah yourself. Not necessarily with her chosson, but just to have found the right one and be finished with the waiting.

But a close friend is totally different. You don't see her age or status when she gets engaged. All you see is her happiness, her joy at finding that special someone. And you're just so happy for her, there's no room for any sadness.

It's all about the difference between an individual and a statistic, between a friend and number.

Now, I can only speak for myself when I say this, but it seems to me that if I would be able to see everyone as my siblings - which they truly are - wouldn't that lessen the interminable pain of my own wait?

So, maybe I was wrong before.

Maybe it's not the difference between an individual and a statistic.

Maybe it's the difference between an acquaintance ... and a sister.

Waiting

2010-05-17T10:17:00.000-04:00

When I was in seminary, we were given the classic "shidduchim" talk. Among other things, we were warned that it might not come easy. While we all knew older singles, human mentality is to think that such a thing could never happen to me.

How wrong we are...

I'm not an "older" girl. I'm just 21. But still - I feel the pressure of being single when most of my seminary friends are already married with their first child born or on the way. I feel left out when they talk of husbands, and I dream of what I'll look like when it's my turn to wear white.

But things take time.

During that same seminary talk about shidduchim, they gave out a story by an "older" girl. I don't know who she is, nor how old she was when she wrote this. The teacher who gave it out did say that she's gotten married since she wrote it. I have gotten chizuk from it numerous times over the last 2 years, and now I share it with you. I hope this introduction serves as giving credit where credit is due.

Now, I give you The Waiting Room.

Long Time No Post

2010-05-12T22:42:00.000-04:00

Every day (sometimes several times) I check out my blog like every other blog that I read on a semi-regular basis expecting to somehow see it updated. I'm almost always surprised to see that the sometimes brilliant, usually insightful author has had nothing of worth to say in over a month. It's a tragedy that such a talented writer has cut herself off from her readers!

And then I remember that the author I'm talking about is me - and the reason she hasn't posted is because she has had nothing to say. I wouldn't even go so far as to say that I've had writer's block. I'd probably just say that I've had blogger's block. I've thought of tons (ok, not tons, but more than one) of ideas, but unlike some other bloggers who blog via iphone or ipod (I am the proud owner of neither), I have to get in front of the computer to write it up, and lately that just hasn't been happening.

So, I try again.

It's almost my blogoversary. I hereby take on an early birthday (think New Year's) resolution to try to post at least once a week.

Based on my past record - any guesses on how long I'll stick to it?

Happy Birthday to me

2010-04-04T17:05:00.001-04:00

Today's my birthday, and I wanted to give you all a bracha. This does not represent my best (some of the rhymes are a little off), but I was a little rushed. I hope it comes true for all of us

May you be zocheh to
Amazing, wonderful things
To all the good in this world
That Hakadosh Baruch Hu brings

For all those who are married
Shalom Bayis may you have
And for those of us who are not (yet)
May we soon find our other half

I wish you to have clarity
In everything you do
May you see Hashem in everything
He should always be with you

May you see all your messages
And learn from them with haste
May you withstand all the challenges
With which we're inevitably faced

Health, hatzlocha, happiness
And everything that's Tuv
Y'malei Hashem kol mishalos libeich
May He answer you with good

T'fila L'Parnasa

2010-03-23T07:00:00.002-04:00

I don't remember where I heard this story, but I'm pretty sure it's true. I may have embellished it a little.

Yaakov was learning in kollel. Every week, all the men of the kollel would line up in front of the Rosh Yeshiva, and he would pass out their checks. And every week, the check would have the same amount - just enough for Yaakov to support his family. One particular week, Yaakov got in line as usual. Somehow, as the Rosh Yeshiva was passing out the check, he skipped over Yaakov. When Yaakov asked the Rosh Yeshiva why he was skipped, the Rosh Yeshiva was very surprised. He said that he never missed a kollelman, so Yaakov must have done something that caused this confusion. After a great deal of thought, it came out that Yaakov had been so reliant on the kollel's check, had taken it so for granted, that he had stopped saying the T'fila L'Parnasa during the bracha Shema Koleinu in Shmoneh Esreh.

I just made the same mistake.

I have been temping at an office. When I had my interview there, they basically told me that after I finished the temp work, I would be given a real, permanent job. I took it so for granted, I didn't see the need to daven for a job. I already had one.

But no.

Hakadosh Baruch Hu is the one who determines who will have parnasa, and who won't. Who will have a job, and who will not. There are no assurances in this life - about anything. Shidduchim, parnasa, health, etc. Hashem gives us everything, and if we are not deserving - if we don't appreciate and acknowledge where our plentitude comes from - He can take it all away.

And davening is the only way to get it back.

Parshas Vayakhel/Pekudei

2010-03-10T12:39:00.000-05:00

(from Parsha Potpourri by R' Ozer Alport)
ויבא את הארן אל המשכן וישם את פרכת המסך ויסך על ארון העדות כאשר צוה ד' את משה (40:21)

In his commentary on our verse, the Baal HaTurim points out that the Torah emphasizes that every aspect of the construction and assembly of the Mishkan was done precisely as Hashem commanded Moshe. In fact, the phrase “as Hashem commanded Moshe” is used 18 times in Parshas Pekudei. As there are no coincidences in the Torah, the Baal HaTurim explains that this number alludes to the 18 blessings recited thrice-daily in the prayers known as Shemoneh Esrei.

I once heard a beautiful and profound insight into the comment of the Baal HaTurim. Hashem told Moshe (31:1-5) that Betzalel should be in charge of building the Mishkan and its vessels, for He had imbued him with Divine wisdom and with expert craftsmanship skills. We are accustomed to viewing artists as free-thinking and creative spirits, valuing self-expression over adherence to strict guidelines.
As many of the specifications for the Mishkan weren’t absolute and even numerous deviations wouldn’t invalidate it, one might have expected Betzalel, with his “artistic spirit,” to improvise and attempt to “improve” upon Hashem’s blueprint. Therefore, the Torah stresses that he followed each and every instruction down to the smallest detail.

Similarly, many people today complain that they feel constrained by the standard text of our daily prayers, which was established almost 2000 years ago. They feel that as our daily needs change, so too should our expression of them. However, based on the Baal HaTurim’s comparison of the daily prayers to the construction of the Mishkan and its vessels, we may suggest that on a deeper level, he is hinting to us that we need not feel stifled by the repeated expression of our needs and entreaties using identical phrases, as illustrated by the following story.

A close disciple of Rav Yechezkel Abramsky once mentioned that an acquaintance of his had recently undergone a difficult kidney transplant. Rav Abramsky sighed, feeling the other Jew’s pain, and then remarked, “I pray every day that I shouldn’t be forced to undergo such a procedure.” The surprised student questioned why he made a special point of reciting this unique prayer daily. Rav Abramsky responded that this request is included in the standard wording of Birkas HaMazon, in which we request that we not come to need מתנת בשר ודם – gifts of flesh and blood (e.g. transplants).

The student challenged this explanation, as the simple understanding of the words is that we shouldn’t need monetary gifts from other humans (“flesh and blood”). Rav Abramsky smiled and explained that the Sages incorporated every need we may have into the text of the standard prayers. Any place we find in which we are able to “read in” a special request we have into the words is also included in the original intention of that prayer.

Just as Betzalel followed Hashem’s precise guidelines for the creation of the Mishkan and still found room for creative expression by doing so with his own unique intentions and insights, so too our Sages established the standard wording of the prayers with Divine Inspiration, articulating within them every feeling we may wish to express. Many times, in the midst of a difficult situation, we begin the standard prayers with a heavy heart, only to find a new interpretation of the words which we have recited thousands of times jump out at us. This newfound understanding, which has been there all along waiting for us to discover it in our time of need, is perfectly fit to the sentiments we wish to convey, if we will only open our eyes to see it and use our Sages’ foresight to express ourselves.

Parshas Ki Sisa

2010-03-05T11:04:00.001-05:00

וירא העם כי בשש משה לרדת מן ההר ויקהל העם על אהרן ויאמרו אליו קום עשה לנו אלהים אשר ילכו לפנינו כי זה משה האיש אשר העלנו מארץ מצרים לא ידענו מה היה לו (32:1)

Rashi writes (Bamidbar 19:2) that Hashem declared the mitzvah of parah adumah to be a “chok” – Divine decree with no readily apparent rationale – regarding which we are not permitted to inquire or attempt to understand. Shlomo Hamelech declared (Bamidbar Rabbah 19:3) that after using all of his intellectual capabilities to attempt to understand this mitzvah, he was still unable to do so.

Yet Rashi also writes in the name of Rav Moshe HaDarshan that the parah adumah served as atonement for the sin of the golden calf, and he proceeds to explain how each detail of its laws specifically atoned for a corresponding aspect of the golden calf. After writing that the parah adumah is the quintessential chok, the purpose of which even Shlomo couldn’t grasp, how can Rashi proceed to explain the rationale behind the mitzvah in great detail? Secondly, in what way did this mitzvah specifically effect atonement for the golden calf?

The Beis HaLevi explains that when the Jews incorrectly concluded that Moshe died, they were distraught by the lack of an intermediary to lead them and teach them Hashem’s will. They yearned to build a place for the Divine presence to rest among them to fill the void left by Moshe’s perceived death. Because their intentions in building the calf were for the sake of Heaven, they selected Aharon to lead the project so that it would succeed. If so, what was their mistake, and why did their plans go so awry?

The Beis HaLevi explains that each mitzvah contains within it deep, mystical secrets which have tremendous effects in the upper worlds when performed properly. At Mount Sinai, the Jewish people erred in thinking that if they discovered the Kabbalistic concepts behind a mitzvah, they could perform it based on their understanding even without being commanded. As a result, although their intentions were proper, they lacked the Divine assistance which comes only from performing His will, and they ended up sinning with the golden calf.

The Medrash (Shemos Rabbah 51:8) teaches that the Mishkan also served as atonement for the golden calf. The Beis HaLevi explains that because the sin of the golden calf was caused by doing something without a command from Hashem to do so, the Torah repeatedly emphasizes in Parshas Pekudei (e.g. 39:5) that every aspect of the Mishkan was made exactly as Hashem commanded Moshe.

With this introduction, we can answer our original questions. The mitzvah of parah adumah is indeed a chok, the logic of which escaped Shlomo and certainly Rav Moshe HaDarshan. If so, what does he mean when he says that the red heifer comes to atone for the golden calf? As we now understand that the root of the sin of the golden calf was the Jews’ attempt to “outsmart” Hashem by doing something which He didn’t command them to, the ultimate rectification of this sin is to completely subordinate one’s intellect to Hashem’s dictates. This was manifested by their willingness to perform a chok, a mitzvah which appears to make no sense but which we do solely because Hashem commanded it.

(taken from Parsha Potpourri by R' Oizer Alport)

Purim Poem 5770

2010-02-24T18:32:00.003-05:00

Our theme this year is the four mitzvos of Purim. Cheap, easy, and still so classy …

Here's the poem to go with it:

ארבע מצוות פורים
All beginning with a מ
Every year since time long past
Yidden fulfilled them

משתה – a סעודה
With food and lots to drink
עד דלא ידע -
Until a man can’t think

מתנות לאביונים
Our gifts unto the poor
As much as we give to them
Hashem will give us more

Bring משלוח מנות
Two foods to a good friend
A chance to give to those who gave
Best wishes to all to send

And finally the מגילה
The story that tells the why
Hashem will never let us down
The salvation’s always nigh

Each מצוה is represented
In our package to you
One and all, big and small
Though they be just a few

Money, (chocolate) money
To כל הפושט יד
If we give with a whole heart
There’ll be no more façade

A Hamantash – המן‘s hat
In spite of his decree
Here we stand – sending gifts
To each other happily

And for those too young to drink
Grape juice instead of wine
Have a cup, have some more
After all, it’s פורים time!

As for the מגילה
I’ll give you just one guess
This poem that you’re reading
Is of substantial length

Now you’re holding in your hand
סימנים of מצוות four
May we be זוכה in this year
To fulfill many more

Atzei Shitim

2010-02-19T12:02:00.003-05:00

One of my favorite parts of seminary in E"Y was the history that surrounded every step.

Here in America, if you go on a trip, while you do see the wonders of creation, you don't get a mitzvah for every step you take. You don't think that this is your land, your past, and your future. In Israel, you do.

I remember when we went down south to the Negev on one of our last tiyulim (trips). As we were going through the desert, we saw these stubby little trees. (I took a picture, but I can't find it now.) Our tour guide told us they were Atzei Shitim, the trees from which the Mishkan was built (hence the connection to this week's parsha :P).

The question is, though, how did those trees get to the middle of the midbar? Deserts don't usually have trees - cacti, yes; trees, not so much. She answered that Yaakov Avinu saw that in the future we would need wood to build the mishkan, so he planted them there.

The fact that they were still there when I was on that tiyul, that we could still see pieces of the past alive today made my Israeli experience, every tiyul, a wonder. Just seeing the past so alive helped my Emuna so much because it was so clear that the Torah was real. It's real, and it's staring you right in the face. There is no way to deny it.

[Just a funny point from this same tiyul: You know how in upstate New York there are signs for deer crossings? Well, in the negev, there are similar signs for camel crossings. I thought it was hilarious. ]

Resisting Change

2010-02-14T11:19:00.003-05:00

I recently changed the background on a communal blog, and the outcry against it was almost vitriolic. But I began to wonder - why don't they like the new background? Is it because they really don't like it, or just because they don't like change?

Change is something that happens whether we like it or not. It happens in all parts of society - fashion, technology, education etc. But when change comes, are we supposed to embrace it or guard ourselves against it? Is change good or bad in itself, or is it something that we have to determine, for each individual change, whether we want to incorporate that change or not?

Changes in fashion, for example, can either be more tznius or less. But every season, every time I look at a piece of clothing, I have to decide whether or not I think it's tznius. I personally don't think that the bell sleeve look is so tznius. But that's my opinion. I know others differ. This is a change that I personally decided to resist. Others chose differently.

Changes in technology are also a great example. There was a public outcry from the gedolim against the Internet. But all those who are reading this clearly decided to utilize this change. The Internet itself is nothing but a gate. It can lead to good or evil. You can use it to read divrei torah, or look at pritzus. Every so often I ask myself whether I should give it up, but every time the answer is that at this point, I can't live without it (scarily enough). On the other hand, I have not chosen to embrace television. I do not own a tv, nor do I want to own one. I have made a decision not to allow myself to embrace this change.

I know I'm kind of rambling, but I'm exploring this question in my thoughts as I type. I think that I think that change is something that has to be evaluated in itself. There is no blanket rule to allow or disallow change. Without change, society would be nowhere. But we are a people that traces our heritage back to 3,000 years ago. We are Am K'shei Oref - a people with a strong neckbone - who are meant to resist change.

On the other hand, if we don't allow for change, we would be nowhere. I don't remember which Rav it was, but one of the Rabbonim in Yerushalayim of old (the Old Yishuv, I think) decided that the chareidi community should start to speak Ivrit even though it was prompted by the Zionists. He realized that the chareidim would lose more children to the Zionist culture if they didn't speak the language. He decided to accept change for the betterment of klal yisroel.

We too, with the guidance of our chachamim, have to decide what changes must be made, and which must be guarded against.

Happy choosing!

Parshas Yisro III

2010-02-10T21:41:00.003-05:00

"Remember the Shabbos day and keep it holy."

The Chofetz Chaim writes that Shabbos is a sign for the Jewish people. When a store has a sign out front, you know it's in business. When we have Shabbos, we are 'in business.' Faithful observance of Shabbos is part of what makes our people eternal, as the following true story submitted by Evi Reznck, Atlanta, GA, illustrates:

Back in the mid nineties a Jewish advertising executive in New York came up with an idea. What if the New York Times - considered the world's most prestigious newspaper - listed the weekly Shabbat candle lighting time each week. Sure someone would have to pay for the space. But imagine the Jewish awareness and pride that might result from such a prominent mention of the Jewish Shabbat each week.

He got in touch with a Jewish philanthropist and sold him on the idea. It cost almost two thousand dollars a week. But he did it. And for the next five years, each Friday, Jews around the world would see: 'Jewish Women: Shabbat candle lighting time this Friday is ___'. Eventually the philanthropist had to cut back on a number of his projects. And in June 1999, the little Shabbat notice and stopped appearing in the Friday Times. From that week on it never appeared again.

Except once.

On January 1, 2000, the NY Times ran a Millennium edition. It was a special issue that featured three front pages.

One had the news from January 1, 1900. The second was the actual news of the day, January 1, 2000.

And then they had a third front page projecting future events of January 1, 2100. This fictional page included things like a welcome to the fifty-first state: Cuba. As well as a discussion as to whether robots should be allowed to vote. And so on. And in addition to the fascinating articles, there was one more thing. Down on the bottom of the Year 2100 front page, was the candle lighting time in New York for January 1, 2100. Nobody paid for it. It was just put in by the Times.

The production manager of the New York Times - an Irish Catholic - was asked about it. His answer was right on the mark. "We don't know what will happen in the year 2100. It is impossible to predict the future. But of one thing you can be certain. That in the year 2100 Jewish women will be lighting Shabbos candles.

This non-Jewish production manager sensed a profound truth.

Thus is the power of Jewish ritual.

Thus is the eternity of our people.

from Rabbi Baruch Lederman's ShulWeek

Parshas Yisro II

2010-02-08T09:32:00.000-05:00

Rashi writes (18:1) that upon hearing of the splitting of the Red Sea and the battle against Amalek, Yisro came to join Moshe and the Jewish people in the wilderness. Why did he wait to hear about the war with Amalek instead of coming immediately after the miracles at the Red Sea, and why did a war impress him more than all of the miracles at the Red Sea? (Yirah V'Daas)

The Manchester Rosh Yeshiva explains that when Yisro heard about the splitting of the Red Sea, he was certainly moved. However, he believed that there was no need to do anything about it, as he assumed that he would retain his spark of inspiration. Regarding the war against Amalek, the Torah records (17:11) that whenever Moshe raised his hands the Jewish army prevailed, and when he lowered them, Amalek became stronger. The Mishnah in Rosh Hashana (3:8) questions how Moshe's hands could magically fight the war, and it explains that whenever they were raised up, the Jews looked at them and focused their thoughts toward the Heavens, which enabled them to win, but when he lowered his hands, they forgot about Hashem and fell militarily. Yisro was shocked to hear that in a battle which took place all on one day, it was possible for the people to be inspired through Moshe's raised hands, yet a short while later when he lowered them their inspiration was gone and they lost everything. This recognition taught Yisro that it wasn't sufficient that he felt uplifted by the miracles of the Red Sea, as it wouldn't stay with him unless he did something concrete to make it permanent, which he did by joining the Jews and converting.

Taken from Parsha Potpourri

Parshas Yisro – a little late

2010-02-06T21:30:00.002-05:00

ויקרא אליו ד' מן ההר לאמר כה תאמר לבית יעקב ותגיד לבני ישראל (19:3)

Sarah Schenirer immortalized our verse in coining the name "Bais Yaakov" for schools for girls. In referring to the men, the Torah uses the phrase the "sons" of Israel. Why when discussing the women does it use the phrase the "house" of Yaakov when "daughters" would seem to be the appropriate parallel?

Rav Meir Shapiro explains that when a person becomes ill, there are hypothetically two ways for a doctor to treat him. The standard procedure is to prescribe medication, although another theoretical option would be to design a room in which the air is saturated with the appropriate antibiotic. The first option has the drawbacks that it only helps one patient and requires active administration, whereas the latter could benefit many people without any effort on their parts.

Similarly, in fighting the universal illness known as the yetzer hara (evil inclination), men follow the prescription of the Gemora (Kiddushin 30b) to repel it through Torah study. Although the latter option isn't currently feasible for medical purposes, Jewish women nevertheless use it to ward off spiritual illness. As the backbones of the family, they imbue the entire home with an atmosphere of holiness and spirituality. This automatically benefits not only themselves, but also their husbands, children, and all who are fortunate to enter their homes.

This is alluded to in a well-known verse (Mishlei 1:8) שמע בני מוסר אביך ואל תטש תורת אמך – Listen my son to the rebuke of your father, and don't forsake the teachings of your mother. Shlomo HaMelech found it necessary to instruct a person to listen to the lessons of his father, while a mother's wisdom permeates the very air of her house and is absorbed without any effort. It is to teach and emphasize this idea that the Torah refers to the women not as the daughters of Yaakov but as the house of Yaakov.

taken from Parsha Potpourri (as usual)

Women in the Workplace

2010-01-21T17:52:00.001-05:00

I recently started working in a non-Jewish environment, and I've become worried about the effect it may have on me and the various shailos that come up on a daily basis. Does anyone know of any shiurim that I can download or articles/books I can read (besides for 9 to 5) that discuss it. Thanks so much.

Hard Times

2010-01-20T17:38:00.002-05:00

You’re going through a hard time
How hard, I barely knew
I thought you could reach for me
So I didn’t reach for you

You needed me to stick by you
To lend my solid strength
I thought you could stand alone
That that’s what your distance meant

You needed a friend who could
Give to you of herself
But I spent my time only thinking
And dreaming of myself

I didn’t have the courage
To be who you needed me to be
I did what needed to be done
At best, half-heartedly

I didn’t have the koach [strength]
To be strong all the time
I didn’t feel a reason
To put myself on the line

I gave up on you just a little
Enough to dull my pain
At thinking of you struggling
At thinking of your pain

You’re going through a hard time
Harder than I knew
You aren’t able to reach for me
So I’ll have to reach for you

Following the Crowd

2010-01-18T12:00:00.000-05:00

Emily Dickinson's poetry has a way of cutting through the external. This poem (#435) is one of those. It is highly appropriate for the world in general and shidduchim in particular. Enjoy.

Much Madness is divinest Sense --
To a discerning Eye --
Much Sense -- the starkest Madness --
'Tis the Majority
In this, as All, prevail --
Assent -- and you are sane --
Demur -- you're straightway dangerous --
And handled with a Chain --

Parshas Va’eira

2010-01-15T10:00:00.000-05:00

This one from Parsha Potpourri is just interesting – not particularly inspiring or anything like that.

What unique role did the octopus play in the plagues in Egypt? (Seder HaDoros 2447)

The Seder HaDoros writes that when the fourth plague – wild beasts – began, the Egyptians ran to their homes and locked the doors to protect themselves from the swarm of animals that were threatening them. At this point, Hashem sent octopi with tentacles that were 10 cubits long on to the roofs of the Egyptians' houses. The octopi extended their lengthy tentacles into the homes and unlocked the doors from the inside, thereby permitting all of the other animals to enter and wreak havoc.

Chodesh Shevat

2010-01-13T13:39:00.001-05:00

Moshe Rabeinu began the last shiur he would ever give to Bnei Yisroel on Rosh Chodesh Shevat. This last speech continues until his death on the seventh of Adar. These were the most important words that Moshe Rabeinu would say – the words that Bnei Yisroel were to take with them into their new lives in Eretz Yisroel (Israel, abv E”Y). They needed to be words of inspiration that would sustain Bnei Yisroel through the long years of Kibush and Chiluk (conquest and division) and for all time.

Rav Hirsch explains that this sefer, Moshe’s last message to us, was Bnei Yisroel’s introduction to life in E”Y. Until now, they had seen daily miracles: mon (manna) fell from heaven to feed them, heavenly clouds surrounded them to protect and clothe them, etc. Now, they are about to enter E”Y. They will have to deal with the mundane, planting food in order to eat, and then cooking it and washing dishes. They will have to make their own clothes and learn to protect themselves physically. The Hand of Hashem will be less clear. There will also be more temptation in the form of the nations to be conquered.

But how did reviewing the Torah help Bnei Yisroel prepare for their future in E”Y?

The answer lies in the following story:

I was once driving home from work when my car broke down. I was on the highway, so I carefully made my way onto the service road until I could go no further. Unbeknownst to me, a mechanic had been driving behind me on the highway. He saw me break down and followed me off to help. He and his friend stayed behind me on the service road for a while, protecting me from oncoming cars, putting their own car and lives at risk.

He was with me the entire time, but I didn't know it.

If only I had looked in my rear-view mirror and seen his car there. I would have felt much more comfortable being in such a vulnerable position knowing that he was there to protect me.

Just like the mechanic in my story, Hashem is always behind us. Even when we feel alone, He is always watching us, taking care of us. We just have to look in our rear-view mirrors - at past miracles and instances of Hashgacha - to see that He has been with us all our lives and will not desert us now.

That is what Moshe was trying to teach Bnei Yisroel before sending them into E”Y. He was reminding them to look into the past to see the love and devotion that Hashem showered on them in the Midbar (desert). He told them, and all future generations, to see the nissim (miracles) that Hashem had wrought in the desert and remember that He is capable of doing the same now. Though Yad Hashem (Hand of Hashem) is more hidden, It is still there, and always will be.

Because of this message, Shevat is a time to look back on our own past and remember what Hashem has done for us. We have to hold onto every Hashgacha Pratis story that happened to us, every time a situation was bleak, but then suddenly Hashem’s plan was clear. We have to take these small moments of clarity, the nissim in our personal midbar, and carry them with us into our regular lives.

Cleanliness and Miracles

2010-01-11T12:00:00.001-05:00

I'm not a particularly neat person by nature, but I'm not exactly the messiest girl on the block. But I, like most other people, work better in a neat environment.

For ages, my room has looked like it was struck by a hurricane. The number of times I attempted to clean it up are too numerous to count. A very good friend of mine came over with her sister in a last ditch attempt to get my room straightened out. They left me, after four hours, to a cleaned room with last instructions that were to be filled that night.

I followed their instructions, and I went to bed that night smiling. For days afterward, I smiled every time I stepped foot into my room. My day wasn't going so well, that's OK – my room was clean; I wasn't feeling well – my room was a haven to heal my sickness. No matter what went wrong, my room was the panacea.

After a while, I noticed a strange phenomenon: I didn't smile every time I came into my room. The sight of the swept floor and vacuumed rugs did not inspire joy. The neatness of my bookshelves and bed didn't make me want to thank my friends profusely for the gift they had given me in helping me clean up.

From my experience, I gained an insight into human nature: People only acknowledge what they don't expect. If it's "coming to them," there's no need to thank the one who took it from the potential to the actual.

When a baby begins to grow, his first, and most fascinating, toys are his own hands and feet. He is overcome with amazement and wonder of the complexity of Hashem's world. Everything he sees is new and exciting – a leaf, a cloud, his nose etc. Everything is seen as a gift special for him. As he grows up, he gets used to seeing the world as it is, so it no longer inspires such admiration. That's just the way the world is – nothing special about it, nothing new, nothing to express thanks for because this is the way it's supposed to be.

Everything in this world that is labeled "nature" or "natural" is really an oft-occurring miracle. Waking, breathing, sleeping, eating … the list is endless. If only we could go back to our babyhood as adults so we can recognize the good in our lives and thank the One who gave it to us!

Parshas Shemos

2010-01-08T10:00:00.000-05:00

שם האחת שפרה ושם השנית פועה (1:15)*
שפרה זו יוכבד על שם שמשפרת את הולד. פועה זו מרים על שם שפועה ומדברת והוגה לולד (רש"י)

As part of his vicious plan to enslave and oppress the Jewish people, Pharaoh commanded the Jewish midwives – Yocheved and Miriam – to kill all male babies at birth. However, the Torah doesn’t refer to the midwives by name as Yocheved and Miriam, but rather as Shifra and Puah. Rashi explains that these names reflect the fact that they beautified (משפר) the Jewish babies and made calming noises (פועה) to soothe them.

Rav Shmuel Rozovsky points out that Yocheved and Miriam were both on incredibly high spiritual levels. The Gemora in Megillah (14a) counts Miriam as one of the seven female prophets. If so, why does the Torah refer to them by apparently mundane names based on their actions in taking care of the Jewish babies, which almost seems to degrade their lofty spiritual accomplishments?

Rav Shmuel answers that the Torah is coming to teach us precisely this fundamental lesson. For all of the spiritual greatness of Yocheved and Miriam, their most significant accomplishment was excelling as Jewish women. While the additional levels that they reached were indeed impressive and praiseworthy, the fulfillment of their basic, fundamental roles as Jewish mothers in properly raising the next generation of Jewish children is even greater. The Torah therefore specifically singled out and emphasized their success at fulfilling their unique and special roles as Jewish women.

*Taken from Parsha Potpourri by R’ Oizer Alport

Parshas Vayechi – a little late

2010-01-02T19:11:00.003-05:00

חכלילי עינים מיין ולבן שנים מחלב (49:12)

Rav Shalom Schwadron points out that the entire miraculous unfolding of events in the preceding Torah portions is entirely predicated on one chance encounter. The accurate interpretation by Yosef of the dreams of the cupbearer and the baker set in motion a chain of events which would alter the course of Jewish history. It led directly to Yosef's release from jail, his appointment as second-in-command in Egypt, the fulfillment of his dreams about his family bowing down to him, his emotional reunion with his brothers and eventually his father, and the descent of the Jewish people to Egypt where they were ultimately enslaved by Pharaoh and redeemed by Moshe.

However, the pivotal episode of Yosef interpreting the dreams wouldn't have occurred were it not for one seemingly trivial exchange. Yosef woke up one morning and noticed that his fellow prisoners looked aggrieved and upset. He chose to initiate a conversation which would literally change the future of all mankind, asking them quite simply (40:6-7), "What's wrong?"

The Alter of Slabodka once gave an ethical discourse on the topic of greeting others kindly and showing an interest in their welfare. He noted that if a person stood next to the synagogue door and poured a glass of milk for each person who passed by, everybody would rightfully declare him to be a tremendous baal chesed (person who does acts of kindness). However, the Gemora in Kesuvos (111b) derives from our verse that showing another person the white of one's teeth with a warm smile is an even greater act of kindness than giving him milk.

So often, we pass somebody who looks like he could use a kind word, a warm smile, and a little extra attention, yet the yetzer hara (evil inclination) discourages us from stopping to waste our valuable time on such inconsequential matters. The next time this happens, which will likely be tomorrow, we should remember the lesson of Yosef that nothing a person does is ever minor, and one has no idea what cosmic chain of events he could set in motion with just a few "trivial" words.

Taken from the Parsha Potpourri by R' Oizer Alport

I'm so Happy for You ... I Think

2009-12-27T13:41:00.000-05:00

I feel really awful right now.

It's finally happened.

This is the first time I heard about someone getting engaged without feeling total joy for her.

Someone I know, who's a year younger than me and just back from seminary, gets a mazel tov. I knew she was going out because I saw her get into a car with a guy who wasn't her brother a few weeks back. But there's a difference between thinking she's been dating seriously and knowing she's engaged.

It's not that I'm not happy for her. I am; I really am. We grew up together, but she was always younger than me. I was always the wiser one, the one with more life experience under her belt. But now ... she's gone places that I can only dream of. She's on her way to starting her new life, and I'm still stuck in this rut.

I'm not old, surely not an old maid, but somehow it feels so wrong. It feels only right that those who are older should get engaged/married first. I know it doesn't always happen that way. I know there are lots of older singles out there, singles who are a lot older than I am. I've always tried to imagine how they feel, but I've never succeeded. Until now. This girl is only a year younger than I am, and it still hurts to see her engaged before I am. How much worse it must be for those who are even older - when the new kallahs are 6, 7, 8 years younger!

There's comfort in knowing that each person has her zivug already set aside for her. Her chosson was not meant to be my chosson, and this time is obviously not the right time for me. My bashert is out there ... somewhere. Some time, hopefully soon, it will be the right time for me to meet him. Until then, Hashem, please help me get through this hard time while staying upbeat and with sensitivity to my friends. Please help me not lose hope, and most of all, make my marriage worth it.

The Happiest Sadist

2009-12-26T20:12:00.001-05:00

My sister is a bit of a sadist. She is positively gleeful when someone gets hurt. I remember one time (I was about 8 years old and she was 5) that I fell off a bike. I bumped my chin very hard, and it was "gushing blood" (as we used to say back then). I came inside the house, bawling. My parents were understanding and tried to calm me down, but as soon as my sister saw me, she burst into hysterical laughter. I remember feeling so hurt – emotionally, as well as physically. I'm in pain, and she's laughing?? Thanks for nothing, sister.

As we grew up, the best way to make her laugh was always to pretend we were hurt. We told this secret to the girls who came to our house, and they used it often. Our home was filled with my sister's joyful laugh, but only when someone was in pain or pretending to be in pain.

After a while, it started to bother me. How could she enjoy seeing other people hurt? She's an intelligent girl, so why does she get a kick out of seeing people in pain?

It took me until my seminary year to finally understand. Everyone says that special needs children are on a higher plane of existence. They have a special bond with Hakadosh Baruch Hu (G-d) over and above what a regular person has. They know what we can't know and see what we can't see.

And that is why my sister laughs at pain.

She sees what we don't see - the purpose behind the pain. There's a whole discussion in the gemorah (don't know where exactly) about the concept of yesurim (trials and tribulations). The basic verdict is that yesurim are actually good for you. Instead of giving a person all his punishments in the world to come, Hashem gives some of it down here. But, as the gemorah continues, no matter how good they are for us, no one would ask for them.

Even though we don't ask for them, everyone does have yesurim in this life. It's almost always too hard for us to see past the hardships and pain to the benefits they bring us.

But my sister is special – she can see past it (at least for others). She sees someone in pain and laughs at the benefit that that person is getting without realizing. She sees good where we only see bad.

And so she laughs. Not sadistically, but as an expression of the joy we should all be able to feel.

The Sun Ascends the Horizon

2009-12-21T22:07:00.002-05:00

The sun ascends the horizon
As hope fills the silent air
A new day is beginning
A day precious and rare

The sun descends the horizon
On a day tired and spent
The question - was it worth it
Based on how well it went

The sun ascends the horizon
The light overtakes the sky
When it is clear as day
There can be no questions why

The sun descends the horizon
The shadows reach their height
Those doubts, which by day silenced
Now give voice into the night

The sun ascends the horizon
A dawn filled with hope and love
A day of new opportunities
A direct gift from above

The sun descends the horizon
As the day draws to a close
The night begins, darkness reigns
Yet the moon above still glows

The sun ascends the horizon
Because it is time for another morn
The sadness of the eve draws back
As a brand new day is born

My Personal Chanukah Miracle

2009-12-16T13:44:00.002-05:00

A Jewish magazine for special-needs families published a piece of mine the summer before I left for seminary. It was one of the best essays I've ever written. I was so proud that I had finally been published in a real magazine. I brought a copy of the publication with me to Israel to show off to my relatives there. Everyone I spoke to said it was amazing, and I basked in the glory of "fame."

My essay was similar to what Staying Afloat said about her family Chanukah party. I had spent time with people in situations that are a lot worse than anything my family went through with my sister, and it taught me to appreciate how lucky we are that she isn't in a worse condition. One family I wrote about read my article and were, understandably, quite upset at what I had written about them. I hadn't changed the details enough for them to go unrecognized, and I was too objective – too shocked by the oddities of their child – to do them justice.

They emailed my parents – a harsh letter, but so true – right before Succos. My parents didn't tell me about it until Erev Succos (the day before the holiday begins). It totally threw me – it burst the happy, proud bubble that I had been in because of my accomplishment as a writer. I went from showing my article to everyone I met to almost throwing out all my copies of it. I cried almost the entire yom tov (holiday). The worst part was being away from home and not being able to call them – or do anything – to apologize. I felt that Hashem was punishing me – it had just been the most inspiring Yom Kippur in my life, and this is what followed?? I couldn't even do T'shuva for it until after Hoshana Rabba. [Note: one teacher I spoke to at this time said it was exactly the opposite – Hashem was showing me that I had a sin that I needed to take care of before it was too late.] It was an awful time.

I wrote the family an apology letter (I agonized over it for weeks) and sent it express mail (cost a fortune, but was worth it). Then I put it out of my mind. There was nothing more I could do except internalize the message – be careful what you write and how you write it (see my message at the top of the blog) and daven (pray).

Time passed. Every so often I'd wonder if they had gotten my letter and what their reaction was to it. But I'd never do anything about it. I never said anything, just kept the worry inside.

On one night of Chanukah, I was sitting on my bed talking to some of my roommate's friends. Though I was friendly with them, I hadn't had anything to do with them Succos time during the fallout of my article. For some reason, I told them all about it, though I hadn't said a word about it since I sent the apology. As I was finishing, a different girl came up to my room to deliver the mail. My family does not do letters – I can count on one hand the number of letters I've received from my parents in all the summers and other times that I've been away from home. So I was very surprised when my friend said she had a letter for me.

When I looked at the return address, the blood literally drained from my face. It was from the people that I had hurt with my article. My roommate, Leah, noticed my reaction, but didn't know what had happened. I told her who it was from, and she understood. I was so scared to open it, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't face the pain that I was sure the letter contained. I didn't hold out any hope that they had forgiven me, because I would never have forgiven someone who wrote such a thing about my sister. All of us in the room said a kapitel (chapter) of tehillim, and then Leah opened the letter for me.

There was silence as we waited to see what the verdict was.

And then Leah smiled. She showed me the holiday card that was in the envelope – just a simple thing with a picture of the kids I had hurt. And I started to cry. Not tears of pain like I had shed on Succos. Tears of joy and thankfulness that they had forgiven me. I cried for over two hours. I'm crying now as I remember it.

It was a miracle. There is no way that they would have forgiven me in the normal run of the world. I had hurt them too much.

Maybe they saw the sincerity in my apology letter.

Maybe they're just amazing people.

But I think it was a nes. A true Chanukah miracle just for me.

Chanukah from Parsha Potpourri

2009-12-13T13:12:00.000-05:00

On Chanuka we add a paragraph, known as “Al HaNissim” to the Shemoneh Esrei prayers and to Birkas HaMazon in which we thank Hashem for the miracles which He performed at this time. In it, we mention that the Chashmonaim lit candles in the courtyard of the Temple. Why didn’t they light the Menorah inside of the Temple where it is normally lit? (Derashos Chasam Sofer Vol. 1 pg. 67, Boruch SheAmar, K’Motzei Shalal Rav Chanuka pg. 172-175)

Rav Tzvi Hirsh Charif suggests that because the Kohanim were impure, they stood outside of the Temple in the courtyard and used long wooden sticks to light the menorah that was inside to avoid entering the Temple in a state of impurity and to avoid rendering the oil impure through contact. Rav Chaim Kanievsky answers that because the Kohanim were impure, they wanted to minimize their exposure to the Temple, so they brought the menorah outside, lit it, and then returned it to its proper place. Alternatively, he notes that the term חצר – courtyard – can also be used to refer to the inside of the Temple. Finally, the Chasam Sofer suggests that because the Temple was full of idols, they lit the menorah in the courtyard, where it burned for the entire 8 days. As a result of its public location, every Jew was able to witness the miracle, as oppose to only the Kohanim had it been lit inside. He adds that this answers the famous question of the Beis Yosef that Chanuka should only be 7 days because they had enough oil for the first day and the miracle only lasted for the final 7 days. However, the amount of oil they had was sufficient to burn one full day inside of the Temple, but outside in the cold winter winds more oil would be needed, yet it still lasted the full day, which was a miracle even on the first day.

© 2009 by Oizer Alport. To subscribe or send comments, write to oalport@optonline.net

Cogito, Ergo Sum - I Think, Therefore I Am

2009-12-06T22:27:00.004-05:00

Think back to your t'nach classes from High School and Elementary School. Who were the greatest niviim (prophets) and leaders from Biblical times? There was Avrohom, Yitzchok, Yaakov, Moshe, Dovid, etc. What do they all have in common? Oddly enough, most of them were shepherds. Shepherding seems to be a pastime conducive to raising a person's madreiga (spiritual level). The question, however, is why? Why is leading a flock of sheep so beneficial to the growth of a navi (prophet) or leader?

I don't know how many of you have actually been shepherds in the past. My guess would be few to none - I know I've never so much as seen a sheep outside of a zoo. But from what I understand, a shepherd has a lot of time on his hands. He does almost nothing while the sheep graze all day. When it's time to bring them back to their pen, he and the sheepdog herd them in. He sits around all day with nothing to do but think. And think. And think.

But the shepherds who became our n'viim didn't just think about where they were going to go for Shabbos or what they were going to wear the next day. Nope. Not these shepherds. They bent their minds to more philosophical thoughts - about Hashem and the wonderful world that He created for us. They watched the sun rise and set, the grass grow, and even the clouds form. They saw niflaos ha'borei (wonders of creation) in everything. This way of thinking, this turn of mind, is what brought them closer to Hashem.

But what about us - today?

When I was in seminary, I remember thinking on more than one tiyul (trip) that it must have been much easier to find Hashem before modern civilization. It is so much easier to see Hashem in the forests, farms, and oceans of days gone by than in the office buildings, houses, and schools of today. Back then, Hashem was visible to the naked eye; today He's hidden by millions of tons of scientific progress.

Lately I've been noticing that I don't really think too much about real things. My mind is too busy flitting between school and home, dating and weddings and millions of other things. Somehow there's just no time left to think about the really important things. When I think about davening, do I think about how I can squeeze mincha into the last five minutes before the zman, or about how lucky I am to have this twice daily opportunity to speak to Hakadosh Baruch Hu? When I think about school, do I think about how lucky I am to be able to afford to go to college so I can earn a higher salary to support a family, or am I just complaining about my next report? When I think about Hashem, do I … wait – do I ever think about Hashem? Or is my mind totally wrapped up in myself and my daily concerns?

Thinking is what sets us apart from the animals; thinking Jewish thoughts is what separates us from the goyim (non-Jews). I (try to) think … am I?

Parshas Vayishlach

2009-12-04T00:28:00.001-05:00

יעבר נא אדני לפני עבדו ואני אתנהלה לאטי ... עד אשר אבא אל אדני שעירה (33:14)

The Ponovezher Rav, Rav Yosef Shlomo Kahaneman, was once collecting money in New York on behalf of his yeshiva in B'nei B'rak. He was riding the subway, on his way to meet with a potential donor, when a group of unruly teenagers decided to have fun with the elderly Rabbi. They came over and began pestering and disturbing him. He was afraid that they might follow him to his destination or even attack him, but how could he escape them in an unfamiliar city?

Fortunately, the Ponovezher Rav remembered that the Medrash relates (Bereishis Rabbah 78:15) that in Talmudic times, whenever the Sages had to meet with the Roman government to lobby against its oppressive decrees, they would first review Parshas Vayishlach, which teaches the rules for interacting with Edom while we are in exile. Quickly reviewing the parsha, Rav Kahaneman developed a brilliant plan based on advice given by the Gemora (Avodah Zora 25b).

Feigning ignorance, he asked the unruly teens for directions to a certain part of town. Excited at their "good fortune," they were more than happy to offer to personally escort him there. They told him he should get off with them at the next stop. When the doors opened, the youths told the Rav to hurry up and exit. Rav Kahaneman, pretending to be even older than his years, took laborious steps and "honored" them with exiting first, which they were more than happy to do. A few seconds later, the Rav was still walking toward the doors when they closed and the subway took off – minus his tormentors!

The Ponovezher Rav explained that just when Yaakov thought he was finally free of his wicked brother, with his gifts accepted and Eisav's wrath placated, Eisav offered to accompany him on his journey. Yaakov, fearing the spiritual influence of his evil brother, commented that because of his large load and small children, he wouldn't be able to keep up with Eisav's pace. He therefore proposed that Eisav proceed ahead and he would eventually catch up, something that he never got around to doing ... and teaching his descendants an eternal and invaluable lesson.

PS – any ideas for a food that has something to do with the parsha?

Special Relationships

2009-12-02T20:15:00.000-05:00

This is in response to a post Kristen wrote.

Everyone always talks about how the checking out part of shidduchim has gotten out of hand. People ask the strangest and most irrelevant questions – does the family use plastic table cloths on Shabbos? What size is the girl? What size shoe is the boy? I'm sure you all can think of more.

What many people forget is that, though it has gotten nutty, there is a reason behind the questions. Maybe not those questions, but it is important to look into the family before possibly joining your future to his.

Kristen talks about how whenever she starts a relationship, she worries when to tell him about her brother. That is one thing that I don't have to worry about. My family doesn't hide my sister. We never have. While I didn't mention her on my shidduch profile/resume/whatever you want to call it, anyone asking about medical issues in my family will hear about her. We don't emphasize the fact that I have a special sibling, but we couldn't hide it even if we wanted to.

And right there is a reason behind all the questions. For me, at least, my sister acts as a filter to get rid of inappropriate possibilities. No one marrying me is marrying my sister, but she is a part of me. And if someone can't accept her as part of my life, he is not the right someone for me. He might be a great, amazing person … for someone else.

That said, it's hard to be rejected. For whatever reason. I daven (pray) every day that I will have the strength to accept any rejections that may come my way and to not blame my sister for them. Not only is it not her fault, it is to my benefit not to waste time and emotional energy on a relationship that will go nowhere because of his inability to accept my sister.

Parshas Vayeitzei

2009-11-27T11:11:00.003-05:00

ויצא יעקב מבאר שבע וילך חרנה 28:10

Those who pay careful attention to the parsha while reviewing it or during its public reading on Shabbos will note a curious fact: unlike almost every other parsha in the Torah, Parshas Vayeitzei contains no breaks from start to finish. It is written in the Sefer Torah without any of the customary spaces which indicate the beginning of a new section within the parsha. As there are no coincidences in the Torah, what is the reason for this anomaly?

Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz explains that Parshas Vayeitzei contains a number of subplots: Yaakov’s flight from Eisav, Yaakov’s dealings with his tricky father-in-law Lavan, Yaakov’s relationship with his wives Rochel and Leah and the interactions between the two women, the birth of the tribes, and Yaakov’s flight from Lavan back to the land of his parents. When examining any of these episodes in its own light, a number of difficult and seemingly unanswerable questions present themselves.

The Torah intentionally structured Parshas Vayeitzei as one long and continuously unfolding narrative to teach that it is impossible to split up the various events contained therein and judge any of them in a vacuum. Rather, each episode is just one small piece of a much larger picture, one which can only begin to be understood when one steps back and views it in the context of the bigger picture.

The Darkei Mussar relates a profound story about a Chassidic Rebbe – Rav Shimon of Yaroslav – who merited living until well past the age of 100. When he was asked in what merit he had enjoyed such a long and healthy life, he responded with words packed with wisdom: “Don’t think that I’ve had an easy life. I’ve had my share of difficulties and pain just like everybody else. If anything, because I’ve lived longer, I’ve had more occasions and opportunities to suffer. It would have been very easy and natural to complain to Hashem, ‘Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t that have turned out differently?’

“However, I was afraid that if I began demanding a justification and explanation of Hashem’s ways, the Heavenly Court would say, ‘If this Rabbi wants answers so badly, let’s call him up here and give them to him!’ So I never asked any of these types of questions. I didn’t have any more answers than anybody else, but because I never asked for them, they let me stay down here for quite some time!”

As the Torah was written for all generations, it is clear that the lessons contained therein are applicable to every person throughout the ages. The lesson of needing to view events in the context of a larger perspective can be extrapolated to the situations which occur in each of our lives. We should realize that although we don’t always understand the ways of Hashem, we nevertheless must trust that everything that happens is part of His larger master plan, which we will one day merit to comprehend.

Taken from Parsha Potpourri by R' Oizer Alpert (if that link doesn't work, try this one)

HELP!!!!!!!!!!

2009-11-27T00:49:00.003-05:00

I'm having a little trouble defining some words that have lately become part of my vocabulary. Can someone help me put together a dictionary?

yeshivish
greasy
harry
any other generalizations that are shidduch related

Hashem Loves Me ... Even More

2009-11-25T00:28:00.002-05:00

I've been telling over the mashal (parable) that I wrote about in my last post. It's interesting how every time I tell it over, the person I'm telling it to follows that train of thought and adds a new perspective to it. (Thanks Esther and Nechama). Imagine that this post flows straight from the last one

Also, we had gotten off the highway at the wrong exit. My friend pointed out that the wrong exit could be seen as making a bad decision or doing a chait (sin). Hashem doesn't leave us; rather, he follows us, hoping to be able to guide us back onto the correct path. Just like Otto did.

When we're going the wrong way in life, Hashem tries to send us messages to push us back onto the right path. He comes up to our window and asks if we need help. When we refuse to let Him in, He'll come around a different way and try to open the door and force His way into our lives. He'll hurt us (or so we think) if necessary, but the ultimate goal is to save our spiritual lives.

But often, we think we're OK, that someone is going to come and save us (like my father, in this situation), so we don't need Hakadosh Baruch Hu (G-d)'s help. But we do. My father alone could not have done anything for us. He couldn't push us up the hill or get the car into a semi-legal spot. Only Hashem (with Otto as His shaliach [messenger]) was able to save us.

As the pasuk (verse) from Tehillim (Psalms) says - טוב לחסות בה מבטוח בנדיבים - better to trust in Hashem than in people, or even noblemen. Hashem can and will take care of us. We just have to place our trust in Him.

Hashem Loves Me ... Cont.

2009-11-23T22:06:00.003-05:00

There was another point that I wanted to make about my experience on Thursday.

Last time I wrote, I said that Otto pulled up next to us and waited a few minutes before coming to help.

I was wrong.

He told my father that he had been behind us on the highway. He saw us break down, so
he followed us off. He and his friend, Russ, stayed behind us on the service road for a while, protecting us from oncoming cars, putting their own car and lives at risk.

He was with us the entire time, but we didn't know it.

Hashem (G-d) is always with us. Even when we feel alone, He is always watching us, taking care of us. We just have to look in our rear-view mirrors - at past miracles and instances of Hashgacha (divine providence) - to see that He has been with us all our lives and will not desert us now.

A Sibling Speaks

2009-11-22T23:43:00.001-05:00

I've been pushing this off for a while now. Staying Afloat has a request out for adult siblings of special needs children/adults to share their experience. I have something that I'd like to share.

As most of you know (and if you don't check out here and here), I have a sister with special needs. It's just the two of us, and we've always been very close, though now, unfortunately, we've grown apart. It's hard to be close to someone like my sister because she can't really communicate. She lets us know what she wants in terms of physical needs (hungry, tired, thirsty, etc), but other than that she's pretty unresponsive. She understands everything we say, and she shows excitement, affection, anger, and frustration, but there's a limit to how close you can get to a person with whom you can't have a discussion. Part of friendship and sisterhood is the sharing of ideas and secrets, neither of which I can share with my sister.

I grew up lonely. I'm an introvert by nature, so I was mostly happy with my books, my studying, and my self. Mostly happy, but not totally happy. I had few friends because many were too intimidated by my sister to spend time with me. I always felt disconnected from those who did befriend me. It was like they had something that I didn't. I realize now it was childhood and innocence.

There's a certain maturity that comes from being the sibling of a special needs child, a certain adulthood that was thrust upon me that few back then caught up to. I always felt so distant from girls my age. There were times when I thought that I was abnormal because I had little interest in what other girls found interesting.

This was all when I was younger. At a certain point I became mature enough to almost hide the differences between myself and my friends and act normally. While I still have little interest in shopping and the like, I do have lots of friends. Friends who don't judge me based on who my sister is.

I don't look back on my childhood with sadness and regret. Children by nature are scared of what's different; I don't hold that against the peers of my childhood (in fact, I am friends with many of them now). I worry how my children will react to my sister. Will they show the same fear that my friends felt? Will they have the sensitivity to love her as she deserves to be loved?

Will I?

♪♫ Hashem Loves Me ♫♪

2009-11-20T02:17:00.001-05:00

Everyone knows at least one story of Hashgacha Pratis (Divine Providence). I've written about it more than once (here, here, here, and here). Some stories are small ones, like finding a parking spot when you need one, or a day off when you thought you were supposed to be working. Some stories are bigger – of men saved from 9/11 because of slichos (penitential prayers said before Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur), of families saved from certain death by a missed bus, and the like. My story is not quite as drastic, but it will stay in the annals of my greatest personal Hashgacha stories.

Tonight, I was on my way home from Touro. As I do every Thursday, I was driving my friend's family car (she doesn't drive yet but wants to be part of my carpool). As we were walking out of the building, a girl from one of my classes asked us if we were passing near her house, and if so, could we give her a lift. Now, you have to understand – I live in Queens. I can either take the Jackie Robinson Parkway (which goes through a very bad neighborhood) or the Belt Parkway, which is longer, but runs through a better place. I usually take the Jackie. If I would take the Belt, I would pass right by this girl's house, so I elected to drop her off and take that route.

We dropped her off, going much further out of the way than I had expected. On our way to the highway, we were saying how it's OK if we get a bit lost because we are Shiluchei Mitzvah (those sent to do a Mitzvah), and they are not harmed. Prophetic words, but we didn't know that then.

The car I was driving is a very old car, and it's not in the greatest condition. Every so often it makes strange noises, but I've been driving it all semester, so the regular noises don't bother me anymore. We were about halfway home (a little before 11), and I was in the left lane going a scant ten miles above the speed limit but somehow managing to be one of the slowest cars on the road. I heard a strange noise that was not among the repertoire of noises that I was used to hearing from the car. I noticed that I was losing speed, but the car did not respond to the gas pedal. I started inching over to the middle lane, and then to the right-most one.

The car was going slower and slower. I needed to get off the highway, and I needed to do it right then.

Baruch Hashem (thank G-d) there was an exit coming up, so I quickly got off. As I got onto the ramp, I realized that I had lost all power steering and power brakes. I literally had to wrench the wheel to get the car to go on the service road. As I was driving, I put the car in neutral and attempted to restart the engine, but it was a no go.

The car stopped of its own volition at the first red light we came to. We were stuck on the service road, with nowhere to go. I turned on the hazard lights, and we called our respective parents. My father said he would come get us as soon as he could, and then we'd figure out how to deal with the car.

We sat there waiting for him to come, calling our friends (what else is there to do at such a time?) and watching the clock tick. My father was nearly there when a car pulled up next to us. A man got out of the car and started asking me if we needed help. I told him that we were fine because my father was coming. I thought he'd left, but he just went around the car to the passenger side. He started to open the door, telling us that we had better get out of the car for safety reasons. We started to freak out. My friend in the passenger seat was nearly hysterical. He told us that he was from the City Marshals, and he was going to help us, but we were too scared to listen.

My father came right then, so he took over. Turns out he actually was who he said he was; he was even a mechanic. My friends went to sit in my family's car while the men pushed the car and I steered. With Chasdei Hashem (Hashem's kindness) we made it to the side of the road. To make a long story short, we parked the car and left it overnight to deal with in the morning and went home in my family's car. We had left Touro a little before 10:30; I walked into my house at 12:30 and considered myself lucky that it wasn't later.

When I think back now to what happened, all I can do is thank Hashem. So many things could have gone wrong or been worse, but weren't:

Otto (the guy who stopped) could have been a murderer or a rapist out to get easy prey.
The fact that such a guy – one who actually had the knowledge and ability to help us – was passing through the neighborhood at a ridiculous hour.
He told us that while he was watching (and he was only there for a few minutes before he got out to help us), we were nearly rear ended twice. Twice! And both of those cars stopped before they hit us.
My father was able to come and help, even though it was really late.
We didn't take the Jackie Robinson. It would have been much, much worse had we been in East New York when it happened.
We were very close to an exit leading to a decent exit. The exit before we got off was not a good neighborhood.
I was able to keep my cool – this is the first time such a thing has happened to me, and I always wondered how I'd react. Now I know. It didn't even occur to me to freak out – even when Otto came to my window

I'm sure there was a lot more Hashgacha involved, but it's too late (and this post is too long) for me to detail it.

Have a great Shabbos filled with obvious Hashgacha. Feel Hashem's love for you every second!

Fifteen Minutes

2009-11-09T14:59:00.003-05:00

Sorry it's been so long since my last post. It's been busy, but hopefully now it'll calm down a bit and I'll have time to post.

This semester, I have class Sunday mornings. It's a real struggle to get up, harder than on any other day of the week. Like always, I set my alarm clock for 6:45 in the hope that I'd actually get out of bed sometime before 7:15. This particular Sunday morning, I somehow managed to snooze my alarm for an hour and a half. Unfortunately, that extra time ensured that I would not be on time to class. I rushed through doing my hair (would have skipped it, but had a wedding that night and no other time to do it), brushing my teeth, getting dressed, and, unfortunately, davening (praying).

I compressed my Tfila into as short a time as possible, concentrating more on the hundred and one details that are involved in getting ready for school than on the fact that I was standing in front of Melech Malchei HaMelachim (King of all Kings, G-d).

I quickly finished, ran out the door without breakfast, jumped into the car, and was off to school. I didn't speed - much. Considering the fact that I had left more than 15 minutes late, I made great time. It was only 9:10, and class started at 9. Not too bad.

It would have been great - had I not needed to find a parking spot. I circled the streets around Touro davening that Hashem (G-d) should help me find a spot so I wouldn't get to class even later. B"H (thank G-d), I finally found one after about fifteen minutes of searching.

As I walked into the building and flashed my ID, I found myself thinking about how I had spent my morning. I looked back on the rushed mumbo jumbo that had been my Tfila and was ashamed. Obviously, I was meant to walk into my classroom 25 minutes late. The test was in how I spent that extra time. I could have spent it davening properly and then easing into a spot just vacated as I needed it, or I could have spent it as I did - pretending to daven and then circling around e 16th st trying to find a parking spot.

This morning when I picked up my siddur (prayer book), I tried to concentrate on the words that I was saying. I spent my day trying to use every moment to do the Ratzon of Hakadosh Baruch Hu (Will of G-d). I only hope that I can continue to use every moment as it is meant to be spent.

Amazing mashal

2009-10-21T00:25:00.001-04:00

Check out this post from Desperate Faith. Amazing!

In Memory of a Principal ....

2009-10-18T00:47:00.001-04:00

This Shabbos was the yahrtzeit of Mrs. Rochel Reifer, my high school principal. She was hit by a car on a Friday night while on her way to a shalom zachor when I was in 12^th grade. The night I found out about her petirah (death), three years ago, tonight, I wrote about her. I also wrote this poem in her memory.

… Mrs. Reifer was always there for us in any way she could be. We each had a kesher, a connection [the theme of our yearbook was connections] to her that was different from our kesher to anyone else. We were her children in every way; she delighted in our happiness and empathized with our lows, just like our mothers. …

Mrs. Reifer was always so full of life, so enthusiastic and vibrant, that it spread to everyone around her. You couldn't be upset in her presence because just being near her made you feel better. She opened the doors of her heart to anyone who knocked, spreading the glow of her life to everyone. …

When I heard about Mrs. Reifer's passing, my first reaction was to sink to the floor in shock and say, "No, it's not true, it can't be true!" Even now, I wish I could wake up and realize that this whole thing is a dream, that she'll come into school and say in her adorable accent [she was English], "Girls, why the long faces?" But in my heart, I know this is reality. I know we have to go on, taking along her teachings and living by them. We have to live as she wanted us to live, and as she herself lived, so her life won't have been in vain.

A year of memories and of pain
A year of fighting to keep sane
How in the world can we go on?

A year of health and happiness
A year of little or no distress
That we take as we go on

A year of loss, those taken away
A year when everyone does say
How in the world can we go on?

A year of triumphs and of cheers
A year without a sign of tears
That we take as we go on

A year of not knowing where to turn
A year of not knowing for what to yearn
How in the world can we go on?

A year of laughter and of hope
A year of knowing how to cope
That we take as we go on

A year of sadness and of grief
A year of incredulity battling belief
How in the world can we go on?

A year of joy, laughter, and love
A year of feeling the One Above
That we take as we go on

Hoshanos and Hakafos

2009-10-02T12:05:00.002-04:00

On every day of Succos (except Shabbos) we say Hoshanos. At that time, the men hold their Lulavim and Esrogim and dance around the Bimah. One man stands at the Bimah holding a Sefer Torah, with all eyes not looking into the machzor (prayer book for holidays) on him.

It struck me that Hoshanos is a mashal for life. In seminary, we had a class called מעגל השנה, or in English, the circle of the year. We learned about each Jewish month and Yom Tov (holiday) as it came. The teacher stressed that the year, time, is a circle. And like a circle, though a year has a beginning and an end, the two are so connected as to practically be one. From Rosh Hashana to Elul, we come "full circle" every year.

The dancing around the bimah is like going through the year. We take steps, passing through every month. But our focus is always on what we are dancing around – the Torah. The Torah is our life. Everything that we do is (or at least should be) with our eyes looking to the Torah and our Rabbanim (spiritual leaders) for guidance.

This concept is even more striking on Simchas Torah. During the Hakafos (circuit), the dancing is exuberant. "We dance 'round and 'round in circles" (Journeys 4, The Man from Vilna) integrating the Torah into the circle of our lives. The joy that living a Torah life brings to people is written on the faces of the men as they dance and sing around and with the holy Torah.

כי הם חיינו וארך ימינו
Because they are our lives and the measure of our days.

Another Gem from ShulWeek

2009-09-26T21:06:00.001-04:00

Rabbi Michoel Feder (not real name) was shopping in a crowded kosher bakery on Erev Yom Kippur (day before Yom Kippur) where he met a man from his congregation, Jack Bender (not real name). Jack was a man who came to shul every year for the high holidays and usually seemed bored, uncomfortable, and anxious to get out of there.

Jack said, "Rabbi, I come to the services every year; but really, what's the point? How many people do you know who keep all the 'resolutions' they make on Yom Kippur? Is there a person in the world who repented on Yom Kippur for all his sins and never sinned again? And most of us have trouble seeing even the smallest improvement from one Yom Kippur to the next. Isn't it all a waste of time? Who are we fooling? Certainly not G-d. And if were honest not even ourselves. I've seen a lot of scams in my time but this is the biggest ever."

There was a hushed silence. The assembled crowd was shocked that Jack could speak so disrespectfully, yet at the same time, everyone wanted to know what the Rabbi could argue or how he would respond. All eyes and ears were focused on Rabbi Feder.

"I had to do a number of chores today in preparation for the holiday, one of which was to take my car to the carwash," began Rabbi Feder, "Have you ever been to a carwash Jack?"

"Of course I have," answered Jack, "I have brought my car there many times. What's the point?"

Rabbi Feder continued, "Within minutes of driving out of the carwash your car has already lost its pristine gleam and within a week it starts to look like any other dirty car. Why does anyone bother? Sometimes Yom Kippur feels a lot like a car wash."

"Granted," replied Jack pensively.

"Have you ever tried to clean a car that hasn't been washed in years? It's almost impossible. The dirt and the grime have eaten into the paint. It's practically impossible to make the car shine. It's true that the gleam on our car is very short-lived, but there's a more important reason we make our weekly trip to the carwash. It gives us the possibility of returning to the shine of the original paint-work," explained the Rabbi, "Yom Kippur is the same. The sheen with which we leave shul after Yom Kippur may wear off pretty quickly, but if we never experienced a Yom Kippur, soon we'd become so spiritually dulled that we would be virtually unable to get back to the luster of our "original paint-work."

Jack attended Yom Kippur services with a whole new attitude. The emotion that he had was palpable. That and every Yom Kippur since, has been a new and moving experience for Jack and for all who know him.

Trial by Jury, part II

2009-09-22T00:54:00.001-04:00

I wanted to add something about my jury duty that I didn't really feel was so appropriate for Erev Rosh Hashana.

If you took a thousand frum people and left them in a room by themselves for a day, the noise would be terrible. In this corner you'd have Shprintze and Yente talking about Shprintze's next door neighbor, who just happens to be Yenta's third cousin twice removed. In the next one, you'd hear Leah and Yocheved discussing seminary, while Devorah and Brocha are discussing Shabbos clothes. Towards the front of the room, you'd listen to Baruch and Reuven talking about the mesechta they're learning, while Bentzion and Yoni decide to learn daf yomi b'chavrusa (together). Underlying all the conversations would be a group effort to set up their neighbors/friends/family with everyone else. Jewish Geography would be rampant, with everyone trying to be related to everyone else. In one word, it would be tumultuous.

Now, take in comparison the scene I witnessed my first day of jury duty.

When I came in on my first day, I was seated in a room with (literally) a thousand chairs. On the day I was called, every single chair was full. You would think, picturing the above scene, the place would be hopping.

You would have been totally wrong.

There were a thousand people there, but you could've heard a pin drop. Outside of what civil courtesy and a plethora of questions (one or two), I didn't say a word to anyone. Nor did they say anything to me. Each person was in his or her own world, with no intergalactic communication.

I'm sure everyone knows the joke that two Jews talking to each other who haven't found a friend/relative/neighbor etc. in common haven't been talking long enough.

Maybe the rest of the world isn't all related.

Or maybe they just don't talk as much …

Trial by Jury

2009-09-18T00:51:00.002-04:00

This week, I was called upon to do my duty as a New York State juror. I had to take off work and waste spend hours over the course of the past few days cooling my heels, waiting to be dismissed. Sitting there as I did, I had a lot of time to think, and one of the thoughts that kept popping into my head was how apropos it was for me to sit on a jury (not that I did – I was just on a panel) right before I myself came on trial.

Every judge will tell you (as the one in charge of my case did … numerous times) that one of the hardest parts of making a trial is finding a "fair and impartial jury." Everybody has some sort of bias, and it's very hard to set them aside and listen to the testimony with an open mind. The judge wasted the time of more than seventy people – over a three day period – trying to find such people.

With all this, the defendant on trial for attempted murder comes into court not knowing what the jurors think of him and his case. They don't particularly care for him, but neither do they know anything about the prosecutors. There is no connection between any of the jurors to anyone on the case, nothing that would cause the juror to lean toward any particular verdict.

We, on the other hand, come into our trial knowing that the jury is partial – to us. Our Father is the one judging our case. Instead of finding the people who will be able to see the matter clearly and make a just judgment, Hashem tries to find loopholes and somehow find us innocent of our "alleged" crimes. We go into that courtroom on Rosh Hashana knowing that the case is slanted to our benefit.

And yet …

There are so many sins that we are unable to atone for. So many sins that we can't do teshuva (repentance) for because we don't even know that we did them. I would like to take this time to publicly ask mechila (forgiveness) from all of my readers. If my words insulted you or hurt you in any way, please know that it was unintentional. I hope you'll forgive me.

Have a Ksiva V'Chasima Tova and a gut g'bentched yur.

A Note on Rosh Hashana

2009-09-14T20:29:00.001-04:00

Rav Tzvi Hersh Meisels was a Baal Tokea – he was a skilled shofar blower. Before being sent to Auschwitz, Rav Meisels was a Rav in Hungary - the Veitzner Rav. Somehow, he smuggled a Shofar into Aushwitz. On one Rosh Hashana, he managed to blow Shofar for men who were going to a labor transport. He describes how he had managed to blow Shofar more than 20 times, reaching some 1,000 men; and he was exhausted. But then his son Zalman Leib who was there with him told him about another transport. There were some 1,400 boys who had been locked up in one of the blocs and they had been condemned
not to a labor camp, but to the crematorium. These boys had found out that somewhere in Aushwitz there was a man who had a Shofar. Through a variety of messengers they pleaded for Rav Maisels to come into the bloc where they were waiting to be murdered, and to blow the Shofar for them before they died. He did not know what to do.
It was clear to him that, if he went into the bloc, he might never get out. It was definitely a question of Pikuach Nefesh, of life and death, and those whom he consulted told him that he was not obligated to go in and blow the Shofar. His son Zalman Leib begged him not
to go into the bloc.

Rabbi Meisels began trying to find out what it would entail to fulfill this last request. First he had to get permission to go into the bloc. He did this by bribing the Capos – the Jewish overseers who stayed alive by serving as guards for the Nazis. The Capos made it clear that if the SS men should arrive and find Rav Meisels among the boys he would inevitably be added to their numbers – 1,401 to the crematorium. Notwithstanding the nature of the danger, R'Meisels decided to go into the bloc to blow Shofar for these doomed souls.

These are his words to describe the scene that unfolded: "Where is the pen and who is the writer who can transcribe the emotions of my heart as I entered the bloc. I met the sea of eyes of the youngsters who pressed forward to kiss my hand and my clothes. They cried with bitter tears and wailing voices to the heart of heaven. "When I began to recite the verse, 'Min Hametzar,' they stopped me and begged me to say a few words before the Shofar service. In my emotional state I could not speak, my tongue cleaved to its palette. I could not open my mouth or my lips. But the boys would not let me continue. I spoke words of Drash focusing on the verse 'Bakessah liyom Chageinu,' explaining that although Hashem's design and purpose for this Holocaust was at this moment, on Rosh Hashana, hidden and concealed from us, nonetheless we were not to despair for even if a sharp sword is placed on one's throat he should not desist from seeking mercy."And then he describes that he blew the shofar and as he was about to leave, one boy stood up and cried out, "Dear friends, the Rabbi has strengthened us by telling us that even when a sharp sword is on our throats, we should not despair of mercy. I say to you however, that while we can hope for the best we must be prepared for the worst. For the sake of Hashem my brothers, let us not forget in our last moments to cry out 'Shema Yisrael' with fervent devotion. And then with heart rendering voices and with great enthusiasm they all cried out 'Shema Yisrael, HaShem Elokeinu, HaShem Echad!…'"

Rav Meisels survived the Holocaust eventually made his way to Chicago. In 1955, he published a sefer, Makdishei HaShem containing Halachic responsa from the Holocaust, as well as his own reflections and this poignant episode.

What those 1,400 boys understood in the Holocaust was even though their lives were going to be snuffed out in but a few moments, they knew that they were going to eternal life in the world to come. That's the hope the Shofar can instill in each and every one of us.

May we merit hearing the Shofar of Moshiach

From Shulweek by Rabbi Baruch Lederman

Parshas Netzavim-Vayelech

2009-09-11T15:34:00.001-04:00

I'd like to apologize for the general dearth of posts. I've just started a new full time job plus a new full time semester, so I'm just a little overwhelmed and overtired. I'll try to catch up and keep going, but please be patient (and yes, that includes dealing with my nomination as a kreative blogger by Staying Afloat). Enjoy this week's dvar torah!

The Gemora in Sotah (13b) derives from 31:2 that the righteous die on the day on which they were born, as Hashem completes the years of the righteous from day to day and from month to month. How can this be reconciled with the Yerushalmi (Rosh Hashana 3:8) which relates that when doing battle, the Amalekites chose soldiers whose birthdays were on the day of the battle, as on a person's birthday his mazal is stronger and protects him from dying? (Taima D'Kra)

Rav Chaim Kanievsky explains that on a person's birthday, his mazal is indeed stronger and able to assist him. However, the form of aid that it provides depends upon the type of person that he is. For an ordinary person, death is considered a punishment and his strong mazal helps to protect against it on his birthday. However, for the righteous, death is considered beneficial as it brings them directly to Gan Eden, and their strong mazals actually work to bring this about on the day of their birth.

© 2009 by Oizer Alport. To subscribe or send comments, write to oalport@optonline.net

For the Geeks in Your Lives ....

2009-09-09T22:24:00.001-04:00

I Differentiate You!

A mathematician went insane and believed that he was the differentiation operator. His friends had him placed in a mental hospital until he got better. All day he would go around frightening the other patients by staring at them and saying, "I differentiate you!"

One day he met a new patient, and true to form, he stared at him and said, "I differentiate you!" but for once, his victim's expression didn't change. Surprised, the mathematician marshalled his energies, stared fiercely at the new patient, and said loudly, "I differentiate you!" but still the other man had no reaction.

Finally, in frustration, the mathematician screamed out, "I DIFFERENTIATE YOU!"

The new patient calmly looked up and said, "You can differentiate me all you like; I'm e to the x."

(For those that haven't had calculus, if you differentiate e to the x, you get e to the x.)

Received from ArcaMax Jokes, taken from gcfl.net, published on August 5, 2009

My Tznius Barometer

2009-09-01T16:31:00.004-04:00

EDIT: While in general, I love comments, for some reason this post has inspired a bunch of nasty comments that I have no interest in seeing - or sharing, so I've closed the comments for this post. For those of you reading it for the first time, the ikkur is at the end. It is not a post about tznius in general, and my opinion on this may seem a little extreme to you. It is the way I feel, and is not necessarily halacha for everyone. You can do whatever you want. My point is about trusting in your own sense of right and not always relying on others to tell you what's right and what's not.

We had an optional class in tznius (feminine modesty) when I was in seminary. A whole group of us got very into wearing our clothing just so. We would throw open our closet doors and model our entire wardrobes for our teacher to look at and pass judgment on. She would tell us why this sweater was perfect, but that sweater was a tad too tight, why this skirt was too short, and this one too long. And we would sit there soaking up every word.

One of the things I miss the most about seminary is the peer pressure to be better than you were before. Everyone was aiming high, striving to become more ___ people. To become more tznius people. Clothing that before I would never have been caught dead wearing began to look good to me. The people I admired were no longer the ones who dressed in the height of fashion, but rather the height of tznius. It was a wonderful year.

Unfortunately, like most good things do, seminary came to an end. I came back to America, affectionately called shmutz l'aretz, where tznius is not "in style." The situation here was worse than I could've believed possible. Good Bais Yaakov girls were wearing skirts that were too short even according to my pre-sem eyes. And they were wearing the newest style: short sleeved shirts with long sleeved shells underneath.

I don't mean to offend anyone by this. I am not trying to preach to anyone; if you wear this style, that is your decision and you are entitled to it. This style strikes me as one more way for us to imitate the goyim. It gives off the impression that the person wearing such an outfit wants to be like her non-Jewish neighbors and wear short sleeves, but compromises and wears long sleeves underneath it to make herself feel covered.

It's scary to see people a while down the line and see how they've changed (I've already discussed this here). I recently saw one particular girl who was one of those very into tznius while in sem (not my sem). She was wearing a very loose shell under a short sleeved shirt. If the short sleeved shirt would've been long sleeved, it would have been a perfectly tzniusdig (modest). But it wasn't, and it wasn't.

I'm sure there were extenuating circumstances which led to her wearing this outfit, which she would never have even considered wearing in seminary. Even so, it scared me. You see, this girl was always my tznius barometer. I would look at her and know I was looking at a girl who epitomized the ideals of tznius in dress and demeanor. Whenever I had a question about my behavior or clothes, I would always seek her opinion.

And now … who can I rely on?

I know the answer, the only answer.

Myself.

Once we finish school, we are basically left on our own to grow or not as we choose. Through all those years, we have looked to others – our teachers and classmates – to model what we should be doing. There comes a time when we realize that we are on our own. We have to be our own barometers, our own consciences. Only WE know what we need to be working on and how we're doing with it. There is no report card because this is the real world.

And what a beautiful world it is…

Sardines in a Can

2009-08-27T20:08:00.006-04:00

Have you ever been on a New York City subway during rush hour? I've been there, done that, and planned to write a post on it. This post was supposed to be one of those posts in which I wittily comment about how during rush hour, the train can sway all it wants and no one will fall. The crush of bodies supports the unsteady.

Picture it: the train is at the station. You've just gotten on and are standing there, vainly trying to grab hold of one of the poles spaced throughout the train. The doors somehow manage to close, and suddenly, the train jerks into motion. Your hand grabs for the pole, misses, and you feel like you're going to fall.You don't.

The belly of the fat, smelly man standing behind you bolsters you from behind. The lady in her business suit holds you up on your left. You're supported on your right by the guy bobbing his head to the tune on his iPod. Minutes later, the train stops. You still haven't managed to grab hold of the pole, so you begin to fall onto the lap of the micro-mini-skirt-wearing teenager sitting in front of you.

It's hopeless to try to grab that pole now. Better to just stand there and let the massive tide of humanity keep you standing in place.

NOTE: While I was looking for a picture to go with this post, I came across this article and this video. They're pretty good.

In Memory of My Zaidy

2009-08-23T23:59:00.001-04:00

Tonight is my grandfather's tenth anniversary. I was really young when he died, just ten years old. My family lived very close to him, so emotionally, we were the closest to him of all his grandchildren. But I will always regret the fact that I never had the opportunity to have an adult relationship with him. I speak to my older cousins, and they remember him so much more than I do. All my memories are of him helping me do my homework (often wrong, but that was OK), teaching me math tricks, playing with me. Just being the best zaidy that any child ever asked for. All my friends were jealous of me for having the best zaidy who carried candy in his pockets to give to the kinderlach. Even now, ten years later, my friends remember him.

My zaidy came to America in the 20's when he was three years old. He grew up in a hard economic time when jobs were scarce. It was a time of people saying "Shver tzu zein a yid" (It's hard to be a Jew). And it was hard. Many parents gave up and worked on Shabbos just to feed their families. My grandfather, however, didn't. He kept Shabbos like few did. There were so many weeks that he would find a job on Sunday only to lose it again by the following Sunday. But he never gave in.

He finally found a job as a postal worker making special deliveries. He was able to work out his schedule that he didn't have to work on Shabbos. Even though he had a steady job, he had many mouths to feed and money was tight. One time, he had to be disciplined for some reason and stood to lose pay for hours of work. His boss didn't want to punish my zaidy, so he (the boss) suggested that he put my grandfather down as having worked on Saturday (even though he didn't) and take away the pay from those hours. My grandfather refused. He didn't even want it on his record that he could have chas v'shalom worked on a Shabbos.

He was a great man.

He opened up his home to everyone who knocked. When my other grandfather needed a place to stay after being discharged from the hospital, my zaidy didn't even hesitate to let him stay with him for six months. I always felt like I had two houses: mine and my grandparents.

Like the singer of this song, my zaidy died suddenly while I was in camp. It was my first time away from home, and I missed my cousin's wedding. On the way home from the wedding, Zaidy's car crashed, and he was killed instantly. I came home for the levaya (funeral).

My father made a big siyum for Zaidy's third yahertzeit (anniversary of death). I was in camp again, but this time I didn't come back to the city. I wrote this poem to be my representative. I've been told that my father broke down in tears as he read it. [Looking back, it doesn't seem like such amazing poetry, but a. I was thirteen and b. the feeling is there anyway.]

As the anniversary of his death draws near
His memory chokes my heart and makes me tear
He was my moon by night, my sun by day
And all of a sudden he went away
His laughter no more will ring in my ears
And that in itself brings down my tears
I remember my sister aloft on his knee
I remember how I loved it when he played with me.
He was my idol with his strength and might
For his face always shone with golden light.
He taught me math and tricks galore.
Now I only wish he had taught me more.
I miss him by day and I miss him by night
While I mourn the cruelty of his plight.
I didn't realize how precious he was to me
Until he died; now the rest is history.
I loved him all I could with my little heart,
Even after Hashem called him to depart.
As years go by, his memory grows hazy,
But I remember he was never lazy.
When he was younger he had to work for a job.
Now, the people he helped should come in a mob.
During this time, these memories flit through my mind.
But days go by and they are harder to find.
I cry and cry as I remember,
My grief is like a burning ember

I only hope that I can live up to his memory and grow into a granddaughter he would be proud of.

לעלוי נשמת אברהם בן משה יחיאל

Parshas Shoftim

2009-08-21T11:48:00.001-04:00

וכל העם ישמעו ויראו ולא יזידון עוד (17:13)

When a person is convicted of a capital crime, the execution is carried out in a public manner. Rashi writes that the Sanhedrin waited to carry out the execution until the next Yom Tov, when people would travel to Yerushalayim to fulfill the mitzvah of aliyah l'regel (ascending to the Temple), so that everybody would hear and talk about it. This was to inspire maximum fear in the populace in the hopes that future executions would become unnecessary.

However, the Mishnah in Makkos (7a) quotes the opinion of Rav Elozar ben Azaria, who maintains that a Sanhedrin which carries out one execution in 70 years is considered violent and bloody. If executions were so infrequent, how were they able to accomplish the desired deterrent effect?

Rav Aharon Bakst answers that this question may be asked only by one who has become accustomed and desensitized to the loss of human life. In the times of the Beis HaMikdash, the Jewish nation understood and appreciated the value of every person and every life to the extent that one public execution in 70 years caused such a national trauma that another one became superfluous for at least that long. If we appreciated life with the proper perspective, we would be so shaken up by events like the Holocaust and recent tragedies in Israel that they would remain in our collective memory forever, inspiring us to proper repentance and rendering future reminders unnecessary.

© 2009 by Oizer Alport. To subscribe or send comments, write to oalport@optonline.net

An Addendum

2009-08-20T10:09:00.002-04:00

I was speaking to my father last night, and he pointed out another strong instance of Hashgacha in my day on Monday.

We had a sewer blockage. We wouldn't have known about it had we not had the whole business on Monday that was triggered by my neighbor's washing machine. If not for that, which really seemed quite tragic, it would have been even worse come Tuesday. Tuesday night was a huge thunder storm. The rain was so heavy that someone offered my father a ride home from shul (less than two blocks)! Had we not had the sewer cleared the day before, our flood would have been a whole lot worse.

Talk about Hashgacha Pratis!

A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events Part 2

2009-08-19T23:44:00.000-04:00

When I went on my vacation, I left my pocketbook at home. I brought my wristlet, but left my keys and assorted paraphernalia at home. When I got home Sunday night, it was nowhere to be seen. We looked all over and couldn't find it.

The problem is that I needed my keys because I was the only one home on Monday, and I was planning on going out a little. Hashgachically (Providentially), we had just had a new set of Shabbos keys made up for me, so I had house keys. No car keys. That proved to be a problem because I was planning on driving to the wedding. No keys, no car, no wedding.

The good thing was that my father came home early because of the flood (and because my sister was coming home). HE has two sets of keys, one even has the remote control that locks and unlocks the car (very important because I tend to lose the car). He put his set of keys near my driving sunglasses on the table for me to take, but I didn't take them.

My sister came home from camp, and the whole house was aflutter with helping her settle back in and getting ready for a wedding. Unbeknownst to me, the keys and sunglasses got moved in the process of serving her supper.

My friend and I were downstairs in my room getting ready for the wedding while all this was happening. For this part you have to know all about my grand total of two wedding outfits. Both are, of course, gorgeous (if I do say so myself) and NOT black (well, not totally black). My pink jacket is my favorite because it's pink, but has the drawback of pulling. It is made up of pink material with silver threaded through it, and at the end of a wedding, the sleeves have bunches of pink and silver threads hanging down. Because of this, I can really only wear this once before sending it back to the cleaners. I wore it two weeks ago and hadn't sent it, so my pink jacket was out. My other jacket has black and white flowers on it, and that's what I was planning on wearing. Unlike the pink jacket, it had just come back from the cleaners, so I made the reasonable assumption that it was clean. Big mistake. I took it out of the wrapping, and lo and behold, some of the black from the flowers managed to run onto the white part of the jacket. Wonderful. Having no other choice, I wore my pink jacket.

Finally we were ready to go. We went upstairs. I found my sunglasses that I had left on the table in a different spot on the table but clearly visible. The car keys, however, eluded me. My parents and I looked for the keys for about ten minutes while my friend stood on the side and watched. Finally I said that I needed to go and would take my mother's keys. We found my mother's pocketbook where she keeps her keys, opened it up, and there were my father's keys. We still have no idea how they got there.

But it didn't matter. I had keys, a car, but no Bluetooth. That was fine; I could manage one trip into Brooklyn without talking on the phone (ha!). We were running about twenty minutes late, but still had to pick up one more girl in Brooklyn. We didn't have much traffic (which was surprising because of the time), but the girl we were picking up had time to daven because of our lateness. I had been scared to call her to tell her how late we were going to be because I thought she would never speak to me again. She is very close to the Kallah, even more than I am, and would have been very upset to miss the reception. When she got in the car, she told us that the Kallah hadn't even come out yet – so much for being late!

We got to the hall in record time, only getting lost once. Because we got there right before seven when the meters expire, we were able to get the perfect spot without even paying for it (Hashem mamish works out the timing of everything!). We ran into the hall and got there with a few minutes to spare before the badeken.

What followed was an amazing wedding. It was so much fun, but you heard about that already.

There's more.

My parents called while I was on my way to the wedding to tell me they had found my pocketbook. Where was it, you may ask? In my parents' bedroom where they had put it to save it from the cleaning lady (and then promptly forgot about it).

During the meal, I noticed that there was an older lady there who was wearing a very familiar black and white flowered jacket. It's one thing to wear the same clothes as a friend, and a totally different thing to match a lady twice your age (and weight)

Right before we left the wedding, my father called to tell me that an older friend of mine was engaged.

My feet were aching like crazy because we were dancing so much, but the car was right there.

I almost got into a serious accident on the way home, but Hashem saved me at the last second.

We made really good time home.

I even got a good spot on my block (which is nearly impossible at night).

So, did I have a good day? Some parts were great, others, not so much. Did I have a Divinely directed and inspired day? You bet!

A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events Part 1

2009-08-19T12:53:00.001-04:00

Disclaimer: This may sound like a massive kvetch, but it is not mean to be. I just have to give the unfortunate and trying background so the fortunate parts can be seen in contrast.

Monday was a day to remember. It was one of those days that is stressful but ends with the satisfaction of a day well done. It was the day of my friend's wedding.

It started off (as all days do) innocently enough at about 12 am. I was on my home from my friend's house in Brooklyn where I had been dropped off after my vacation, when a friend from Baltimore called me. She was the Kallah's roommate and was trying to figure out how she was going to be getting from Baltimore to a wedding hall in Brooklyn. Somehow we worked it out that I would come to Manhattan to get her from the bus stop, we'd get ready for the wedding at my house, she'd stay over by my house Monday night, and I'd give her explicit directions on how to get back to Penn Station to pick up her bus back to Baltimore the next day.

When I woke up Monday morning, all was fine. My plans for the day were set; I knew what I was going to be doing that day, and it all centered on this wedding.

And then my plans fell apart.

I had been planning to leave for Manhattan at around 11:45 to get there in time to pick up my friend at 1:00. At 9:30, before I had davened, a leak started in our downstairs bathroom. It quickly became a big leak, and then proceeded to give a good imitation of Niagara Falls sans rocks. I was the only one home because my sister was coming home from camp that day. I frantically called my father, spoke to our upstairs neighbor, and then the leak stopped. For a few minutes. Because Zman T'fila was swiftly approaching, I opted to daven before the shower I was planning on taking that morning. I got dressed, took one last look at the area of the leak, and discovered that it had restarted with a vengeance. There was half an inch of water on the floor there, and it was spreading into our laundry room. I called my neighbor again and asked them to turn off their washing machine and to speak to my father because I had to daven.

I davened, and since Niagara had stopped leaking, I decided to take my long awaited shower. While I was waiting for the water to hit the right temperature, I noticed a small leak from the shower ceiling. Sometime in the middle of my shower, I happened to look out and notice that now it was raining from three parts of the bathroom. I quickly finished up, called my father yet again (at which point he decided to come home from work). I went into my room, got dressed, and then noticed that there was water on the floor of my closet (which is on the same floor as this bathroom). I had to leave to get my friend and water was filling up my house. It was an auspicious start to the day.

I got to Manhattan in record time (the train came right away, and I even had a seat), but my friend's bus had gotten delayed. I decided that since I was on 34^th St, I may as well go shopping. I got lost in Macy's for a while, and then found three sweaters for $9.50 each (a mitziah [find] to top all mitziahs). I found my friend, and we took the train back to my house.

By the time we got back, our water problem was diagnosed to be a backed up sewer and the water main was turned off. No water for anything, a messy, watery house, and a friend's first visit. The perfect combination.

The sewer guy was B"H able to come right away, and the problem was summarily dealt with. Although the floors were still wet, there was no ill effect on our ability to get ready to leave. We somehow managed it only a few minutes after we had originally planned. Then another set of problems cropped up.

To be continued ...

My Friend’s Wedding

2009-08-18T15:17:00.001-04:00

I've been to friends' weddings many times by now. I've watched kallahs of all types walk down the aisle as single girls and emerge from under the chuppah as married women. But the wedding I went to last night was different.

The Kallah was my really close friend. This was one wedding where I felt a chiyuv (obligation) to be there. I felt the need to put myself in that inner circle to dance with my friend on the happiest day of her life. Never have I been to the wedding of so close a friend. (I do have a few more weddings of friends of this caliber coming up, but this was the first.)

The strangest thing happened though. Almost every time I go to a wedding (although this has happened less and less frequently as weddings become more commonplace), I half believe that it's not really happening. Call it denial, but I can't get over the fact that my friend that I shared snack with in nursery or walked to school with in elementary school or took to the bus with to high school or copied notes from in seminary is really all grown up and getting married. I watch my friends walk down the aisle to start their new lives, their faces covered by their veils, and tell myself it's not really happening. It's some other girl, one I don't know, who's making such a change in her life, and my friend and I can just go on as we were.

In my heart, I know it's not true.

I know that times are changing and we're growing up. I watched my friend walk down the aisle last night, saw them pick up the veil to make sure it was her. I saw her face under the chuppah, and it was really her face. She was the one getting married, not some faceless girl in white. Her life, and my relationship with her, will never be the same. There's someone else occupying the space in her heart labeled "best friend" and all former occupants are pushed down a little. She can no longer think only in terms of herself because now she is half of a greater whole.

She, like all kallahs, is facing a new beginning, one that should be filled with brocha and hatlocha, simcha and shalom, and most of all, ahava and avodas Hashem.

Well, I'm Back

2009-08-17T00:23:00.004-04:00

B"H I had an amazing time on my vacation. I went to New Hampshire with my friend and her family, and it was a real chavaya (experience). The biggest surprise was that I was able to survive a whole week with no technology other than a cell phone (that doesn't check my email for me). No blogs, no email ... I can't believe I survived it.

I've got lots to say about my vacation, so stay tuned. Hope everyone is enjoying their summer so far.

Vacation ... Finally!

2009-08-08T21:33:00.002-04:00

I'm going on a real vacation starting tomorrow - no technology except for cell phones and cameras. That means no blogs :`(. I have no idea how in the world I'm going to survive. I'll miss you all. See you sometime after August 17th.

In Tribute to a Friend

2009-08-06T14:10:00.001-04:00

Dear Shulie, Amush

I've been wanting to tell you this for some time, but I realized it would be easier in a letter than over the phone.

Do you remember the mitzvah wedding we went to a little before Pesach? I remember it so clearly because it made an indelible impression on me. Let me describe it to you the way I remember it.

When we, a group of fifteen sem girls, got there, there were about ten real guests and another ten seminary girls. There was a drum playing beats that were impossible to dance to, and the kallah was talking on the phone looking sad.

And then we came, or rather you came. You were the one who made the difference.

You did not hesitate at all. You went right up to the kallah and pulled her onto the dance floor. We girls made a circle around you and her as you proceeded to make her wedding special. You made the entire wedding. As I watched you dance with her and her mother (or whoever those ladies were – we never actually found out) I was crying inside over the beauty of it all, as I am now over the memory of it.

I had never been to such a wedding, and you made it into whatever it was.

I've always been rather shy and reserved, but that wedding changed me. Whenever I go to a wedding, my memory of you being m'sameach that kallah challenges me to be you. Though most weddings are happier than the one we went to in Israel, there is still a need.

Since I came home, you wouldn't recognize me at weddings. Sometimes I don't even recognize myself in the girl dancing away in the inner circle.

You changed me Shulie.

But that's really not the end of it. Until that night I was always a little wary of you because our personalities are so different. But that night, Shulie, you changed my perspective. There was no way in the world that I, or anyone with my type of personality, could have done what needed to be done. What you did. It made me appreciate you so much more, and recognize that there is a need for every type in this world. I realized that while I would do a chessed for someone with (or without) a smile, you'd do it with a song and a cheer. When I would drag my feet do something, you'd dance to do it.

There is a depth to you that I saw for the first time that night, and it changed me and my view of the world.

This may seem like a random time to think of all this, but it's really not. About two weeks ago, someone I know made a chasuna. I wasn't invited for the chupa or the meal, so I wasn't going to go. But then someone told my mother that she had heard that there weren't going to be so many people there. So I went. But only in your zchus - only because I remembered how much of a difference you made at that chasuna in Israel. I can't say that I did as much for that wedding as you could have, but my presence definitely helped.

I wanted to thank you for everything, Shulie, for the influence you didn't know you had on me. And I ask you to continue doing what you have been doing so you can continue to inspire the world at large.
Love,
Musing Maidel

The Levaya of a Gadol

2009-08-03T17:43:00.002-04:00

I'm not one to discuss what's going on in the world. I prefer to live in my little bubble, only surfacing when some friend or family member mentions something new in current events. But every so often, current events collide with my bubble. Today was one such day.

Rav Zelig Epstein, the Rosh HaYeshiva of Shaar Hatorah, a yeshiva in my neighborhood, was niftar today. The levaya (funeral) was held outside in front of the Yeshiva. B"H there was a lot of shade and a local grocery store supplied free drinks. Most of the hespedim (eulogies) were in Yiddish, so I didn't understand most of what was going on, but the intent was clear: Reb Zelig was a tzaddik in our times. He did what he could for the tzibbur (community), but did not forsake his family in the process. He was a man of great wisdom and empathy; he was able to get to the heart of something and share his insight. He was a gadol who corresponded with many great Rabbonim in Eretz Yisroel (Israel). On a list of who to ask eitzos (ideas) from, he was only behind Reb Yaakov Kamenetzky and Rav Shach. I'm sure many personal stories were told, but I didn't understand them.

That he was a great man did not surprise me. But the sheer number of people who came did. I went to the levaya of Rav Shmuel Berenbaum, one of the American Roshei Yesiva of Mir in America, while I was in seminary. Again, the hespedim were all in Yiddish or Hebrew, so I didn't understand any of it. The cemetery he was buried in was across the street from my dorm, so we got to see the entire procession. "A lot of people" doesn't even begin to cover it. Rechov Shmuel Hanavi (a six lane street) was covered in a sea of black hats. Hands covered the van that the meis was in, everyone wanting one last touch, one last caress, for the rebbe that they were losing. It was a fitting tribute for the man he was.

Since Shaar Hatorah is a much smaller Yeshiva than Mir, I thought Rav Zelig's levaya wouldn't be of the same magnitude as Rav Berenbaum. I was wrong - it came very close. There was the same sea of black covering two streets. The same loving, caressing touch of hundreds of talmidim (students) trying to hold onto their Rebbe.

During the hespedim and after, while following the aron (coffin), non-Jews stopped in the streets. They asked us what was going on, and when they heard it was a funeral, they paid their respects. Those who lived in the neighborhood knew of the yeshiva and had heard of its leader. The Kiddush Hashem (sanctification of G-d's Name) that came about through this levaya was enormous. How often does one see literally hundreds of people come together to honor one man?

May he be a meilitz yosher for all of us.
Umacha Hashem dimaah ma'al kol panim
(May G-d wipe away the tears from every face)

The Window: an Addendum

2009-07-28T09:55:00.004-04:00

My last post was about Ahavas Chinum, loving another for no reason other than the fact of their existence. This poem symbolizes one of the times in my life that I was able to live with the Ahavas Yisroel that I know we are supposed to have. I had been planning on posting this poem with that, but at the end it didn't fit. So, here it is:

You're looking out the window
Pain heavy on your heart
People going on their way
While your life just fell apart

People with their regular lives
Not knowing what had been
Just going on with what they do
Not knowing what's within

They see your face, tears in your eyes
And know not what to say
They fumble with their clumsy words
While you wish they'd go away

I know I can't properly express
The words that are in me
But know one thing -
Where you need me, I'll be

Reflections on Tisha B'Av

2009-07-27T21:23:00.000-04:00

The second Beis Hamikdash was destroyed by one thing: Sinas Chinam, baseless hatred. The opposite of Sinas Chinum is Ahavas Chinum – loving another for no reason beyond the fact that he or she is your brother. Like darkness and light, Sinah can only come where there is a lack of Ahava.

This year, like every year for the past two thousand years, we mourn. We are mourning for the Beis Hamikdash, for the unity that comes from the certainty that we are all doing the right thing – together. When we are able to look past the hats and coats, past the places we live, past anything that divides us, when we can see the pintele yid (Jewish spark) in every neshoma, only then will we be zocheh to rebuild the Beis Hamikdash. It should happen speedily, in our days.

Parshas Devarim

2009-07-24T14:46:00.001-04:00

Sorry no post for such a long time. I haven't been feeling so well this week, and it's been pretty busy. Anyway, here's the weekly(ish) dvar torah.

From Parsha Potpourri by R' Oizer Alpert:

Why did Eisav merit receiving Mount Seir as his inheritance immediately and without any hardship (2:5) while Yaakov and his descendants were forced to descend to Egypt and suffer centuries of backbreaking slavery before they were finally able to receive the land of Israel as their inheritance? (Rav Aharon Bakst quoted in Peninim MiShulchan Gevoha)

Rav Aharon Bakst notes that baby animals are capable of walking and caring for themselves a short period of time after their births. Human babies, on the other hand, are literally helpless and completely dependent upon their parents for survival for years. He explains that the greater the spiritual potential something possesses, the more time is required for it to develop and prepare itself to accomplish its mission. Because animals have little to accomplish in the spiritual realm, they are able to mature and fulfill their roles quite quickly, whereas humans, who are the pinnacle of the Creation, need much more time to develop and prepare themselves to fulfill their spiritual potential. Similarly, Eisav’s descendants have much less to accomplish relative to the Jewish people, and they were able to immediately receive their inheritance. The Jews, on the other hand, required 210 years of purification in Egypt before they were able to emerge to receive the Torah and fulfill their lofty spiritual mission.

asdfghjkl;

2009-07-20T18:51:00.003-04:00

Anyone recognize the title? In case you didn't, those are the letters of the home row on the qwerty keyboard. Those who type correctly keep their fingers on those letters and move them around as needed. My elementary school had typing class since 3rd grade (I think), so I learned to type correctly.

This method of typing is supposed to improve speed and accuracy because the typist doesn't have to actually look at the keyboard in order to type. Things get interesting, however, when the typist doesn't look where she puts her fingers. Do you know how many times I've started typing, only to realize a few words later that they came out all wrong. For example, I tried to type Musing Maidel, and it came out z,idomh z,sfor;? or j8w8ht jq8e3o? If you accidentally shift your hands one inch to the left or to the top of the keyboard, you're going to get gibberish.

The inventor of the modern keyboard was actually very smart. I don't know how many of you noticed, but on the f and j keys, where the index fingers of the left and right hands, respectively, are supposed to go, there's a little something sticking up to let your fingers find their proper place. But, as I've said, I still sometimes make mistakes.

It struck me today (after this happened yet again) that there is profound meaning to this. We see life through the myopic lens of our mortality. The picture it makes is confusing and unclear, and there's so much we can't understand, now or anytime in this world. So much pain and tragedy. So much agony. It's hard to keep faith.

But, if we notice the little marks on the keyboard, the little pointers Hashem gives us, we'll be able to look at life from the right perspective. If we look around with our fingers on the right keys, with the right views and hashkafos, life becomes meaningful.

Two Cooks, One Kitchen

2009-07-19T23:43:00.000-04:00

My mother and I share a kitchen. We both cook, especially when it comes to Shabbos. The problem is that we often don't communicate about what we're cooking. For example, I like to have one kugel side and one non-kugel side for the Friday night meal. I had already made a kugel and was planning the other side. I left the kitchen for a while, and when I came back, my mother was pulling another kugel out of the oven. Communication – it just doesn't happen.

The same thing happened this week. My mother usually makes the cholent Thursday night and puts it up on Friday morning. She soaks the beans in a certain container, and then puts it all into the pot. She had a very hard week this week, so when I saw on Thursday night that there were no beans soaking, I decided that if my mother didn't put up the cholent by the time I got up on Friday, I would make it.

I got up on Friday – no beans soaking on the counter, nothing in the cholent pot. So, I got down to making it. I washed some beans (no time to really soak them, but whatever), peeled potatoes, and then looked for the meat. My mother wasn't home, so I called her to ask which meat to use. In the course of our conversation, she asked me if I had used the beans that she had put in the fridge. My reaction ("what beans?") gave her all the answer she needed. I had not used them. Then we got into one of our mother-daughter squabbles. I hadn't asked her, she hadn't left me a note, well why didn't I look, but why should I think to look since she hadn't used her regular utensils … You get the picture.

I was thinking about our little tiff later, and I realized that it reminded me of a famous Rashi in בראשית. (One of my high school teachers used to say that a Meforash is only famous because she has heard of it.) Rashi there (א:יד) brings down a מדרש: שוים נבראוץ ונתמעטה הלבנה על שקטרגה ואמרה אי אפשר לשני מלאכים שישתמשו בכתר אחד. For those of you less familiar with the Hebrew, it says that the sun and moon were created equal. However, the moon complained that it is not possible for two kings to share one crown. In reaction to her words, Hashem made her smaller.

The concept of two people fighting over one crown is obviously an old one, all the way from the beginning of time. It's no wonder that in my house there are two cooks fighting over one kitchen.

Parshas Mattos-Masei

2009-07-17T10:25:00.004-04:00

This is one question I always had. Oizer Alpert addresses it in points to ponder this week.

The Gemora in Sanhedrin (106b) teaches that Bilaam was executed (31:8) by means of all four forms of death used by the Sanhedrin: stoning, fire, sword, and strangulation. How was it possible to kill one person using all four forms of execution? (Rashi, Yad Ramah, and Maharsha Sanhedrin 106b; Ayeles HaShachar)

Rashi writes that they hanged Bilaam from a tree and lit a fire under him. They then cut off his head and his body fell into the fire. Hanging him from the tree was considered strangulation, cutting off his head was dead by the sword, his body falling to the ground was stoning, and falling into the fire was burning. The Maharsha challenges this explanation, as the stoning and burning occurred after his head was cut off and he was already dead. Additionally, somebody who is to be executed by fire is killed through a burning piece of lead being place into his mouth, which is different than the form of burning described by Rashi. Therefore, he suggests that they first threw rocks on Bilaam, but not to the point of killing him. They then partially placed a burning piece of lead into his mouth, but not enough to kill him. They then strangled him somewhat, but kept him alive until they finally killed him by cutting off his head with a sword. Rav Aharon Leib Shteinman questions this, as he was only truly killed by the sword and not by the other methods. The Yad Ramah explains that Bilaam was killed by four people, each of whom simultaneously performed on him one of the methods of execution.

© 2009 by Oizer Alport. To subscribe or send comments, write to oalport@optonline.net

Is There Something Wrong with this Picture?

2009-07-14T17:50:00.001-04:00

I get a lot of forwarded emails. Some of them are funny, some not so much, but sometimes I think I'm the only one who actually reads them. Take this one for example. It's entitled "Jewish Version of the Bachelor." Personally, I've never heard of "The Bachelor," but in context I can figure out what it's referring to.

Maybe it's just me, but, aside from the terrible grammar and egregious spelling errors, this "joke" sickens me. While I know humor is one of the best ways of coping with problems, some humor is just not funny. The superficiality that this demonstrates … can these people really be frum yidden? I don't even know how to express the frustration and disillusionment that I got from reading this. Am I wrong?

Do you love the idea of The Bach elor , but are too frum to watch it? Then you'll love the new show, " The Bachur ." The concept is the same: 25 girls vying for the heart of one guy. The twist? They're all frum!

Our Bachur this season is Avraham Yitzchak Greenbergsteinkowitz from the holy city of Coffeeneck. He has studied in some of the best yeshivas, is over 5'6" and is a lawyer, doctor AND an accountant. You might ask why such an =2 0 exceptional Bachur would choose such an unusual method for meeting his bashert. "Well," says the Bachur, "I have been dating for over 6 months now and still have not been able to find my bashert. After consulting with all 17 of my rabbeim, I felt that this intense approach would be the best way for me to do so."

The creator of the show is none other than Perry Charshady, who is the mastermind behind other reality TV hits such as "I'm a Rebbe…Get Me Out of Here" and "So You Think You Can Shteig."

"The premise of the show is the same as that of The Bachelor ," Charshady explains, "except with some minor differences to make it more appealing to a frum, heimishe, audience.." For example, the bachurettes will face-off with challenges such as the Challah Bake-Off. The bachurette with the worst tasting challah will be sent home. And who will be the judge of something so crucial20to building a bayis neeman b'yisrael? "My =2 0 Imma!" ex claims the Bachur. "She makes the best challah ever, so who better to judge?" Additionally, while on The Bachelor the bachelorettes go home to meet the guy's family, our bachurettes will have to have a meeting with the Bachur's favorite Rebbe.

And who are these bachurettes? Well, they are all no larger than a size 4 and went to Strict College for Women where they studied to be a therapist of any type. They also all come from wealthy homes in the Metropolitan area. "I just don't feel comfortable with out-of-towners" The Bachur explains, "No one really knows what goes on in those places. At least where I'm from, everyone knows each others business so I can really get to know what a girl is like by askin g, you know, her neighbors and kindergarten teachers about her."

From the very first episode, it is clear that these girls are top-notch. After being the first bachurette to be sent home, Chana Shprintza Cohenbaumosky cries "How could he reject me? I mean, I went to NNI – the best seminary in all of Israel!" Later in the show, the second rejected bachurette sobs "Doesn't he even know who my father is?!" But, not all the bachurettes are so sincerely committed to their seeming "Chesed Each Day" lifestyle. In one episode late in the season, The Bachur gets his first big shock: "I don't always20wear tights," confesses one bachurette.

Who is this shiksa20posing as an accomplished bachurette? Is she the same one concealing the fact that she has Facebook? Or is more than one bachurette hiding a dark side? "It just bothers me when someone isn't honest with me," The Bachur says disappointedly. "I mean, if you talk to other boys or don't have a white tablecloth on your shabbas table then clearly you're not frum enough for me, and if you're not frum enough to be here, then what are you even doing here?"

So what's the next project for Charshad y? A season of The Bachurette , perhaps? "No," says Charshady. " The Bachurette would be almost impossible to create." Why? He explains: "This is a reality show and if we were to portray 25 buchrim trying to win over one girl, it would not be an accurate representation of reality." He then adds "And, on a technical note, the process of finding 25 eligible buchrim would be an almost impossible feat."

Well, this season promises to be one filled with scandals: bare legs, Facebook and even (gasp!) Law School? "It's always been a secret dream of mine," reveals a teary-eyed bachurette. But, it also will be packed with fun: hotel lobbies and exotic trips to Chevron! And fear not, there will also be plenty of Tehillim said through bouts of sobbing. So tune in every motzei shabbas!

Are You Still There?

2009-07-13T01:59:00.001-04:00

Where, oh where, have my commentors gone?
Oh where, oh where can they be?
I have kept writing faithfully
But where, oh where can they be?

I know no one really likes to comment, but can you please make an exception this time? The blogosphere is feeling so empty. Do you agree with what I'm saying, disagree, have no opinion? Whichever it is, please let me know. I feel like I'm writing to no one (not that it really matters, but I'd like to know), so if you're there, can you say hello? Pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top?

I miss you all, please write again!

In Tribute to an Amazing Teacher

2009-07-10T01:19:00.003-04:00

Every so often, a person comes across one teacher who makes a real difference in his or her life. These teachers are rare and few between, but when they come … This particular teacher was my Chumash teacher in 12^th grade. She lives in my neighborhood, so I've seen her often since seminary.

This teacher is a shining example of someone who doesn't consider her job done when her students graduate high school. After we all got back from sem, we felt bereft – no more shiurim on a regular basis. Someone, I'm not sure who, came up with the idea to ask this teacher to give us a shiur in Sichos Mussar every Shabbos. This teacher being who she is, she agreed immediately. The shiur not only became the highlight of my week, but that of everyone else involved.

Now we've stopped for the summer. I miss her smile so much; I miss the simchas ha'chayim that everything she did was infused with. And I can't wait to start again in the fall. We bought her the book With Hearts Full of Love by R' Mattisyahu Soloman as a goodbye present. This was the inscription we wrote:

One Simchas Torah evening
Some girls started to shmuz
"We're just back from Israel
And we need a shiur," they mused

"Shabbos would be perfect
Night or maybe day
Let's ask Mrs. Teacher
It'll be great either way"

They called up their מחנכת
She enthusiastically agreed
She couldn't wait to share with them
Life lessons that they'll need

And every shabbos since then
A pilgrimage is made
To 123^rd street
And the greatest shiur ever gave

Your simcha, Mrs. Teacher,
In life and all you do,
Gives us life to face our week
And your shiur is the how-to

We come to you for help,
For advice and just to cry
You pat us on the shoulder
And tell us how to try

Your interest in each of us
Is always so sincere
It makes you perfect for
Either choice of your career

A simple gift cannot convey
The impact that you've made
You've changed the pattern of our lives
In ways that will never fade

With Hearts Full of Love,
Your Talmidos

The Cookbook that Every Maidel Needs

2009-07-07T00:40:00.002-04:00

I just can't get enough of blogging. A few months ago, who'd have thought I'd even start one blog, let alone two? That's right, ladies and gents (this one is more for you ladies), I have officially started a second blog. This one is not one based on my thoughts; rather, it is a compilation of my favorite recipes that I have put together starting from when I was in seminary. If you would like to contribute your own recipes, email me at MusingMaidel@gmail.com and I'll add you as an author.

Keep in mind that it's still under construction and it might take a while until the colors work out. Let me know what you think!

HP Daily

2009-07-01T17:28:00.003-04:00

I'm learning the book Praying with Fire by Rabbi Heshy Kleinman with a friend. Last night, we read a section that talked about how if we see Hashem in our daily lives, in the minutiae that are always with us, we'll have a much easier time knowing to Whom we daven. We decided then and there to start a new nightly ritual. Right after we learn, we are each going to share one story of Hashgacha Pratis - it doesn't matter if it's a big one or a small one, as long as we saw Hashem's Hand in it.

Tuesday: I did not get a single red light when I went to pick my father up from Yeshiva.
Wednesday: (This actually happened yesterday also) I got to school a drop before 11 (when alternate side for the streets around Touro is over), so I basically got the best spot available.

You make think these HP stories are a little petty. They're nothing earth-shattering. But everyone, I'm sure, has heard the story of the woman looking for a parking spot in downtown Manhattan. She bargains with Hashem, offering the world if He would only find her a parking spot. While she still has her prayer on her lips, a miracle occurs - a perfectly legal spot (without a meter) opens up right in front of her. Mid-sentence, she tells Hashem "Oh, forget it. I already found one."

I don't want to be like that. Every little thing that happens is the Hand of Hashem showing us His love. It's there; we just have to open our eyes to see it.

העושה מצוה אחת קונה לו פרקליט אחד העושה עברה אחת קונה לו קטיגור אחד. אבות ד:יא

2009-06-28T13:08:00.007-04:00

A WORD is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.
-Emily Dickinson

Most people understand a פרקליט and קטיגור to be a mark in Hashem’s book on our behavior. Though this is true, there is more to it.

Yaakov dreamt of a ladder with מלאכים climbing up and down between שמים and ארץ. These מלאכים are our פרקליטים and קטיגורים going back and forth. What happens when you do a מצוה? As the משנה says, a פרקליט is created. It climbs up the ladder with an empty suitcase. It goes to the equivalent of a shopping center. This mall is unlike any you have ever been to – instead of selling makeup and clothes, this mall sells things like שלום, רפואה, ברכה ,פרנסה - all the things we daven for. The פרקליט goes to this mall and fills up its suitcase with all sorts of goodies. It then climbs down the ladder and opens the suitcase, releasing the contents to the world. Every מצוה we do has a positive effect on the world at large.

On the other hand, what happens when a person does an עברה? An עברה creates a different type of מלאך – a קטיגור. This קטיגור also climbs the ladder, but it heads to a very different place. It slowly makes its way to a huge courtroom. The room is filled with row upon row of other קטיגורs sitting quietly in their seats. Each one looks like the עברה that created it – big, ugly and mean. They are all silent, looking expectantly at the front of the room. Every single one is a בעל מום who cannot speak, so there is total quiet in the courtroom. Suddenly, an ear-splitting noise breaks the silence. A big קטיגור wearing a black leather jacket comes roaring into the room on his giant motorcycle. He rides straight to the front of the courtroom and tells Hashem to look and see all the עברות that His children are doing. Hashem slowly turns and sees the room full of קטיגורs. He takes out His gavel, and the judgment begins.

What קטיגור is it that has the power to speak and make Hashem listen? It is the קטיגור that is created by our mouths – with the terrible חטא of לשון הרע.

This post is culled from various lessons by Reb. Blatt, based on the Chofetz Chaim’s introduction to Sefer Chofetz Chaim

Parshas Korach

2009-06-26T17:22:00.002-04:00

This is one of the points to ponder from Parsha Potpourri by Oizer Alpert

Which people who have appeared earlier in the Torah were reincarnated as Korach and his assembly? (Rabbeinu Bechaye 16:29)

Rabbeinu Bechaye notes that the verse states (16:2) ויקמו לפני משה – Korach and his followers stood up before Moshe. It would have been more grammatically correct to say ויקמו על משה – they stood up against Moshe. The word לפני also means “before” and is used to hint that these individuals were gilgulim of earlier generations. Regarding the generation of the dispersion, the Torah records (Bereishis 11:4) that they said הבה נבנה לנו עיר ומגדל וראשו בשמים ונעשה לנו שם – Come, let us build for ourselves a city and a tower which reaches the Heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves. Regarding the inhabitants of Sodom, the Torah writes (Bereishis 19:4) ואנשי העיר אנשי סדום. This literally means, “The men of the city, the men of Sodom,” but it alludes to the fact that the inhabitants of Sodom were reincarnations of the generation of the dispersion who had expressed their interest in building for themselves a city. Parshas Korach begins by stating ויקח קרח, which is translated into Aramaic by Onkelos as ואתפלג, which alludes to the fact that Korach was reincarnated from the דור הפלגה, generation of the dispersion, and for this reason, Korach and his followers are referred to (16:2) as אנשי שם, which was the goal of that generation. This was also the reason that Dasan and Aviram told Moshe (16:14) that even if he blinded them, they would still not go with him to Israel. They specifically mentioned this punishment because as gilgulim of the townspeople of Sodom, they had already once been afflicted with blindness (Bereishis 19:11).

Have a good shabbos everyone!

Sleeping on the Job?

2009-06-24T13:13:00.004-04:00

I'm really tempted to do this so I can sleep through class*, but it would be sooo bad for shidduchim. Can you imagine going on a date with that haircut?

* not that I sleep through class, or anything. The temptation is still there, though.

One Year Later

2009-06-24T00:56:00.004-04:00

A year can bring a lot of changes to a person's life. The seminary year itself is one full of transformations. Unfortunately, as Staying Afloat mentions in her post, it's hard to keep inspiration going, and it's very hard to stay inspired over a long period of time. This past year since sem was over was meant to be the year of crystallizing what I gained in seminary and deciding (consciously or otherwise) what is going to stay with me for life. As a newly returned sem girl, I was idealistic; I was going to be the one to hold onto everything. Sadly, as I'm sure happens to most girls, this past year leeched away so much.

I found out yesterday that a friend of mine from sem who stayed in E"Y as a madricha is going to be in my lit class. Class is starting today, and I'm almost scared to see her. She only knew me at the height of my year, and now she's going to see me again a year later. I'm terrified that she's going to think I'm a different girl than I was. That I lost most of what I gained.

I'm thinking back now to all the kaballos I made last year. How many of them did I keep to? How many did I lose? How many do I not even remember making? Worse, how many do I no longer see the need for? I'm scared to look at myself in the mirror and see the girl I've become -someone who is not the girl I envisioned just one year ago.

From the Mouths of Babes ...

2009-06-23T08:00:00.003-04:00

While I was coming home from work today, I passed A., a kid I used to babysit for. He happens to be very precocious - most kids I babysat for don't remember me, but he does. The conversation went as follows:

A: "MM, why don't you ever babysit for me anymore?"
me: "Most girls my age don't really have the time."
A: "Oh. [pause while he thinks this over] Are you married?"

From his lips to Hashem's ears!

Bread of Embarrassment

2009-06-21T20:33:00.007-04:00

At some point in a person's life, s/he asks why s/he is here. The answer is different for each individual person, but the reason we, as a world, are here is the same: so Hashem can do good for us. Hashem is the מיטיב. All He wants is to give to us.

If that's the case (and it is, according to the מסילת ישרים, I think), why do we need to come down to this world at all? Why can't our neshomahs go straight to Gan Eden? The answer, according to whichever teacher I heard this from, is that if we would just go straight to Gan Eden, it would be like we were eating נהמא דכיסופא (excuse my spelling), bread of embarrassment. Better we should come down to this world and earn our portions in the world to come than just be given it.

I never fully understood this. Who cares if Hashem just gives it to us? I don't think I would mind if Hashem gave me a present of עולם הבא. This past Thursday I had an experience that helped me understand:

I was giving my friend (L) a ride home after our last finals. We had both just bombed the last test and were very upset about it. L's sister got married tonight. Since she (L) is a very good student who works really, really hard to keep up her GPA, she was determined not to let her grades suffer because of the simcha. After this particular final, she realized that it had. After figuring out her average in the class, she realized that she was at the high end of a B+. Her prof is a very nice man, and he said that he would raise her grade to an A- because she is so studious. While this was very nice of the teacher, L was still upset. When I asked her why, she said it was because she didn't deserve it. Even though she had worked really hard in the class, because she messed up on the final, she felt that she wasn't worthy of getting that A-.

Imagine how much worse she would've felt if she hadn't worked all year, but the teacher still decided to give her an A-! It's the same with עולם הבא. If we would get it as a gift, it wouldn't feel right because we wouldn't have earned it.

Thank you, Hashem, for giving me the opportunity to "pay my way" to עולם הבא.

Finals are OVER!!!!

2009-06-19T14:53:00.003-04:00

Finals are officially over, and I only bombed one test! Now that I have more time on my hands, posts will IY"H be more forthcoming. We are now heading into the long summer vacation of Touro College. For all those not in the know, that is less than a week. That's right. My last final was last night, and the summer semester starts on Wednesday. Talk about a long break ... Anyway, that's all for now. Have a great Shabbos everyone.