Originally published on Huffington Post.
Hug a Tree! Celebrate Earth Day! No question, concern for the environment is a vital issue today and a critical one for tomorrow.
While there are many appropriate themes with which the Torah could have begun (Abraham, Mt. Sinai, etc.), it begins instead with a day-by-day description of the creation of the world, commencing with the creation of heaven and earth on Day One and concluding with the creation of humankind on Day Six.
God began the Torah with a thorough description of creation to indicate not only the work that went into the world's creation, but the love and care as well. Thus the Midrash says: "When God created the first human, He showed him all the trees in the Garden of Eden ... and said to him, 'See My handiwork, how beautiful and choice they are ... be careful not to ruin and destroy my world, for if you do, there is no one to repair it'" (Midrash Rabbah, Ecclesiastes 7:13).
There is another fascinating Midrash that shows the understanding of the sages for the significant role that trees play in stabilizing our environment:
"Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai once said: 'If you have a sapling in your hand, ready to plant, and the Messiah comes, plant the tree first and then go to greet him. What does this tell us about the importance of trees?'" (Avot d' Rabbi Natan B31)
Here are some other fascinating insights about the importance of trees that are presented in Jewish literature:
The Bible sets forth as a foremost priority to care for the land by properly seeding and planting it. "When you will come into the land, and you will plant any tree for food..." (Leviticus 19:23). Planting trees is regarded as the first step to building an ecologically sound environment.
The Bible insists that newly planted trees must be properly protected so they may thrive: "For three years [the fruit] shall be restricted to you, it shall not be eaten" (Leviticus 19:23).
Even in times of war, when human lives are at stake, the Bible forbids wanton destruction. Jewish armies were strictly enjoined from destroying the fruit-bearing trees of cities under siege: "When you lay siege to a city for many days to wage war against it and capture it, you must not destroy its trees by wielding an ax against them" (Deuteronomy 20:19). The rabbis warned ominously, that when a tree is harvested its cry extends from one end of the world to another! (Am Loez)
The medieval Jewish scholar, Maimonides, insists that the biblical text of Deuteronomy 20:19 refers not just to fruit trees in times of war, but to any wanton, unnecessary destruction, such as breaking vessels and blocking water sources.
Thousands of years before Earth Day or Arbor Day, Jews celebrated the 15th day of the month of Shevat (Tu BiShvat) as the New Year of trees.
Already thousands of years ago, the Bible legally required the farmer to provide sacred time for the land to regenerate itself. Just as human beings are to rest every seven days, the Bible declares: "When you come into the land which I give you, then shall the land keep a Sabbath to the Eternal. Six years you shall sow your field, and six years you shall prune your vineyard, and gather in its harvest; but in the seventh year shall be a Sabbath of rest to the land, a Sabbath for the eternal. You shall not sow your field, nor prune your vineyard" (Leviticus 25:2-4).
Biblical law also recognized the importance of preserving the natural habitat of each and every species: "You make springs gush forth in torrents, they make their way between the hills, giving drink to all the wild beasts; the wild asses slake their thirst. The birds of the sky dwell beside them and sing among the foliage. ... The trees of the L-rd drink their fill, the cedars of Lebanon, [G-d's] own planting, where birds make their nest; the stork has her home in the junipers. The high mountains are for wild goats; the crags are a refuge for the rock badgers" (Psalms 104:10-18).
The Bible taught the importance of making use of all aspects of creation. So, for instance, commenting on the description of the date palm the rabbis declare: "No part of the palm tree is wasted. The dates are for eating; the Lulav branches are for waving in praise on Sukkot; the dried thatch is for roofing; the fibers are for ropes; the leaves are for sieves; and the trunk is for house beams" (Numbers Rabbah 3:1).
The environment is sustained by trees, which cleanse the air and stabilize the earth, and the references in Jewish sources to the importance of protecting them are meant to be guidelines for caring for the planet in general. This week, as Americans celebrate both Earth Day (April 22) and Arbor Day (April 26, the final Friday in April), is an excellent opportunity to strengthen our individual roles as guardians of the earth by supporting environmental initiatives, planting trees or even tending a private garden.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Friday, December 28, 2012
New Year's Resolutions and Jewish Thought
Originally posted on Huffington Post.
As we prepare for the new calendar year, it is interesting to look at the Jewish nature of some of the most common New Year's Resolutions:
1. Lose Weight/Start Exercising/Eat Healthy Food
The mitzvah of saving a life (pikuach nefesh) is so great that it precedes most other mitzvot and applies to one's own life as well. Taking care of one's personal health, whether that means eating a healthier diet, exercising or even making certain to go for an annual check-up, is part of the mitzvah that the sages connect to the commandment of Deuteronomy 4:15: "And you shall watch yourselves very well."
2. Take Better Care of the Environment
Judaism has always placed great emphasis on taking care of the world, because the world was created by God. An important component of the Jewish view of the universe is that our very existence is a gift that comes with a responsibility. The sages inform us that "When the Holy One, blessed be God, created the first human ... God said to Adam, 'See my works how good and praiseworthy they are? And all that I have created I made for you. [But] be mindful then that you do not spoil and destroy My world -- for if you do spoil it, there is no one after you to repair it'" (Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:13).
3. Refrain from Gossip
People do the most damage to each other with their mouths. Damage done with our hands, such as injuries, thefts, etc, can usually be repaired. Words, however, are like feathers in the wind -- they fly too fast to catch and can never be retrieved. Jewish law regards lashon harah, wicked speech such as gossip and slander, as one of the worst of the transgressions that one may commit against fellow humans.
4. Give to Charity
Ideally, people should have no qualms about supporting those in need. The Torah, however, recognizes that charity is not necessarily a natural instinct, and therefore mandates the giving of tzedakah (charity): "If there be among you a needy man, one of your brethren, within any of your gates, in your land which God gives to you, you shall not harden your heart, nor shut your hand from your needy brother; but you shall surely open your hand to him, and shall surely lend him sufficient for his need" (Deuteronomy 15:7-8).
Additionally, Jews are obligated in the mitzvah of ma'aser, which means a 10th (often translated as "tithe"). In ancient times, each Jew was required to give 1/10th of the produce of the fields to the Levite, and an additional tenth to the poor or to support Jerusalem. Today, ma'aser is generally given from both one's regular income and from any additional monies that come to a person, such as bank interest, an inheritance or a monetary gift. Because of the intricacies of the laws and differences in situations, it is recommended that one seek the help of a qualified rabbi to properly allocate one's ma'aser.
5. Spend More Time with Family
In the day-to-day hubbub of our 21st century world, we are wired and wireless. Through our smartphones and tablets we are now truly available 24/7. Even on vacation, we are likely to be accessible. It seems like there is no break.
Jewish life brings a whole new meaning to TGIF, Thank God It's Friday. With the start of Shabbat (25 hours, starting a little before sunset on Friday) all electrical devices are turned off. No phones or e-mail. One is meant to actually sit down with their families and friends and enjoy each other's company, taking time to relax, talk, visit. It's a relief not to be bound to others, to actually have a day, once a week, when we answer to no person.
6. Manage the Budget
Avak gezel refers to situations in which one had no intention of stealing and, in truth, did not actually steal something, but yet caused a loss to someone else.
In his magnificent compilation of Jewish law known as the Mishneh Torah, Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (Rambam, Spain/Egypt 12th century) notes that a person who eats a meal with a host who cannot afford to serve that meal has committed avak gezel. The Rambam clearly points out that this is not technically "legal robbery" but is forbidden because there is some element of robbery within this action (Hilchot Teshuva 4:4).
In truth, the laws of avek gezel can apply to one's self as well, and therefore one must make every attempt to maintain a budget and avoid debt.
7. Volunteer to Help Others
While giving to charity (tzedakah) is an act of kindness (chesed), an act of kindness is not charity. According to the Talmudic sage Rabbi Elazar, "Acts of Kindness are greater than charity, for it is said (Hosea 1:12), 'Sow to yourself according to your charity, but reap according to your kindness.' If a person sows, it is doubtful whether he will eat or not, but when a person reaps he will certainly eat it" (Sukkah 49b). The sages go on to explain that kindness is better than charity.
There are many ways in which a person can perform acts of kindness. Some of the best-known mitzvot associated with chesed are visiting the sick, welcoming guests, and helping a bride and groom get married. Many of the opportunities to involve one's self with these mitzvot come from being involved with organizations that focus on specific acts of kindness. Within the Jewish community, there are organizations for assisting the poor, helping those who are ill and their families, helping young people find their "soul-mates" and then helping them make a wedding, if needed, and many others.
8. Quit Smoking
Once upon a time, cigarette smoking was assumed to have many health benefits. After all, smokers seemed to feel refreshed and relaxed, a beneficial physical side effect. From a Torah perspective, the only apparent problem with smoking was lighting a cigarette on Shabbat (prohibited).
By the time the dangers of smoking became common knowledge, however, it was a common vice, and rabbinic authorities understood that an outright ban on smoking would be too difficult to enforce (especially given the addictive nature of nicotine). In relation to smoking, Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (regarded as one of the greatest Jewish legal minds of the 20th century), felt that he could not outlaw it based on the statement in Yebamot 72a: "Since many people are in the habit of disregarding these precautions, 'The Lord preserves the simple' (Psalms 116:6)." In his 1981 ruling, however, he not only strongly discouraged the habit, but also declared it forbidden to start. More recent rabbinc rulings have outrightly banned smoking.
9. Be Less Grumpy
"When one shows his teeth [smiles] to his fellow man, it is better than giving him milk to drink" (Ketubot 111b).
On the whole, smiling at another person makes them smile too (unless they are in a really bad mood). Imagine passing a smile down a street, "infecting" one person and then another. Unlike a virus, smiling is believed to have great health benefits! A wide range of professionals now believe that smiling not only makes you look better, but actually makes you feel better, perhaps even releasing a small dose of helpful endorphins.
Receiving a smile can change a person's entire perspective. More than just changing a passing mood, sincere smiles (sincerely, as is implied by the reference of showing one's teeth) build self esteem, they change how a person views the world and how a person feels that he/she is viewed by the world.
10. Further One's [Jewish] Education
This a goal that is often elusive. More and more Jews are leaving Jewish life with only basic knowledge about Judaism. Once upon a time, a Jew raised with little knowledge of his/her heritage was the exception, but, according to Jewish law, such a person could not be held responsible for Jewish law. However, one raised without this knowledge can also never know of the depth, ethics, intricacies and fully appreciate the beauty of Jewish life.
Today in North America, where several generations of Jews have been raised with only the most basic Jewish education, there are organizations such as NJOP/Jewish Treats, that strive to provide a more complete understanding of Judaism and Jewish life.
As we prepare for the new calendar year, it is interesting to look at the Jewish nature of some of the most common New Year's Resolutions:
1. Lose Weight/Start Exercising/Eat Healthy Food
The mitzvah of saving a life (pikuach nefesh) is so great that it precedes most other mitzvot and applies to one's own life as well. Taking care of one's personal health, whether that means eating a healthier diet, exercising or even making certain to go for an annual check-up, is part of the mitzvah that the sages connect to the commandment of Deuteronomy 4:15: "And you shall watch yourselves very well."
2. Take Better Care of the Environment
Judaism has always placed great emphasis on taking care of the world, because the world was created by God. An important component of the Jewish view of the universe is that our very existence is a gift that comes with a responsibility. The sages inform us that "When the Holy One, blessed be God, created the first human ... God said to Adam, 'See my works how good and praiseworthy they are? And all that I have created I made for you. [But] be mindful then that you do not spoil and destroy My world -- for if you do spoil it, there is no one after you to repair it'" (Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:13).
3. Refrain from Gossip
People do the most damage to each other with their mouths. Damage done with our hands, such as injuries, thefts, etc, can usually be repaired. Words, however, are like feathers in the wind -- they fly too fast to catch and can never be retrieved. Jewish law regards lashon harah, wicked speech such as gossip and slander, as one of the worst of the transgressions that one may commit against fellow humans.
4. Give to Charity
Ideally, people should have no qualms about supporting those in need. The Torah, however, recognizes that charity is not necessarily a natural instinct, and therefore mandates the giving of tzedakah (charity): "If there be among you a needy man, one of your brethren, within any of your gates, in your land which God gives to you, you shall not harden your heart, nor shut your hand from your needy brother; but you shall surely open your hand to him, and shall surely lend him sufficient for his need" (Deuteronomy 15:7-8).
Additionally, Jews are obligated in the mitzvah of ma'aser, which means a 10th (often translated as "tithe"). In ancient times, each Jew was required to give 1/10th of the produce of the fields to the Levite, and an additional tenth to the poor or to support Jerusalem. Today, ma'aser is generally given from both one's regular income and from any additional monies that come to a person, such as bank interest, an inheritance or a monetary gift. Because of the intricacies of the laws and differences in situations, it is recommended that one seek the help of a qualified rabbi to properly allocate one's ma'aser.
5. Spend More Time with Family
In the day-to-day hubbub of our 21st century world, we are wired and wireless. Through our smartphones and tablets we are now truly available 24/7. Even on vacation, we are likely to be accessible. It seems like there is no break.
Jewish life brings a whole new meaning to TGIF, Thank God It's Friday. With the start of Shabbat (25 hours, starting a little before sunset on Friday) all electrical devices are turned off. No phones or e-mail. One is meant to actually sit down with their families and friends and enjoy each other's company, taking time to relax, talk, visit. It's a relief not to be bound to others, to actually have a day, once a week, when we answer to no person.
6. Manage the Budget
Avak gezel refers to situations in which one had no intention of stealing and, in truth, did not actually steal something, but yet caused a loss to someone else.
In his magnificent compilation of Jewish law known as the Mishneh Torah, Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (Rambam, Spain/Egypt 12th century) notes that a person who eats a meal with a host who cannot afford to serve that meal has committed avak gezel. The Rambam clearly points out that this is not technically "legal robbery" but is forbidden because there is some element of robbery within this action (Hilchot Teshuva 4:4).
In truth, the laws of avek gezel can apply to one's self as well, and therefore one must make every attempt to maintain a budget and avoid debt.
7. Volunteer to Help Others
While giving to charity (tzedakah) is an act of kindness (chesed), an act of kindness is not charity. According to the Talmudic sage Rabbi Elazar, "Acts of Kindness are greater than charity, for it is said (Hosea 1:12), 'Sow to yourself according to your charity, but reap according to your kindness.' If a person sows, it is doubtful whether he will eat or not, but when a person reaps he will certainly eat it" (Sukkah 49b). The sages go on to explain that kindness is better than charity.
There are many ways in which a person can perform acts of kindness. Some of the best-known mitzvot associated with chesed are visiting the sick, welcoming guests, and helping a bride and groom get married. Many of the opportunities to involve one's self with these mitzvot come from being involved with organizations that focus on specific acts of kindness. Within the Jewish community, there are organizations for assisting the poor, helping those who are ill and their families, helping young people find their "soul-mates" and then helping them make a wedding, if needed, and many others.
8. Quit Smoking
Once upon a time, cigarette smoking was assumed to have many health benefits. After all, smokers seemed to feel refreshed and relaxed, a beneficial physical side effect. From a Torah perspective, the only apparent problem with smoking was lighting a cigarette on Shabbat (prohibited).
By the time the dangers of smoking became common knowledge, however, it was a common vice, and rabbinic authorities understood that an outright ban on smoking would be too difficult to enforce (especially given the addictive nature of nicotine). In relation to smoking, Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (regarded as one of the greatest Jewish legal minds of the 20th century), felt that he could not outlaw it based on the statement in Yebamot 72a: "Since many people are in the habit of disregarding these precautions, 'The Lord preserves the simple' (Psalms 116:6)." In his 1981 ruling, however, he not only strongly discouraged the habit, but also declared it forbidden to start. More recent rabbinc rulings have outrightly banned smoking.
9. Be Less Grumpy
"When one shows his teeth [smiles] to his fellow man, it is better than giving him milk to drink" (Ketubot 111b).
On the whole, smiling at another person makes them smile too (unless they are in a really bad mood). Imagine passing a smile down a street, "infecting" one person and then another. Unlike a virus, smiling is believed to have great health benefits! A wide range of professionals now believe that smiling not only makes you look better, but actually makes you feel better, perhaps even releasing a small dose of helpful endorphins.
Receiving a smile can change a person's entire perspective. More than just changing a passing mood, sincere smiles (sincerely, as is implied by the reference of showing one's teeth) build self esteem, they change how a person views the world and how a person feels that he/she is viewed by the world.
10. Further One's [Jewish] Education
This a goal that is often elusive. More and more Jews are leaving Jewish life with only basic knowledge about Judaism. Once upon a time, a Jew raised with little knowledge of his/her heritage was the exception, but, according to Jewish law, such a person could not be held responsible for Jewish law. However, one raised without this knowledge can also never know of the depth, ethics, intricacies and fully appreciate the beauty of Jewish life.
Today in North America, where several generations of Jews have been raised with only the most basic Jewish education, there are organizations such as NJOP/Jewish Treats, that strive to provide a more complete understanding of Judaism and Jewish life.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
The Jewish Messiah and the End of Days
The question of whether or not Dec. 21 will be the end of the world has been a hot topic in the media. These speculations are based on the Mayan calendar coming to an end. This is not, however, the first time that the world has worried that the end was near.
There have been many who have claimed to have either deciphered or had a mystic revelation of the exact date of the end of the world (as we know it) and the coming of the final redemption. There have also been many who have declared themselves to be the Messiah -- the one who will bring about the ultimate redemption of humankind -- but have not lived up to their promises.
Although the concept of a Messiah* (Moshiach in Hebrew) and an end to the world as we know it is not overtly mentioned in the five books of the Torah, it is actually one of the fundamental articles of Jewish faith. As Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (Maimonides/Rambam) included in his 13 Principles of Faith (as popularly rendered): "I believe with perfect faith in the coming of the Messiah; and even though he may tarry, nevertheless, I wait each day for his coming."
The Torah does, however, describe the future that will befall the Jewish people when (not if) they turn their hearts from the Torah (Deuteronomy 28): The land will be destroyed, the people ravaged by disease before being defeated by enemies and exiled. These events have, sadly, come to pass, repeatedly.
Two chapters later, however, Moses informs the people that after all of the curses have befallen the Children of Israel and they have returned to Him with all their heart and soul, then the curse will be undone. This chapter includes all of the famous promises of the ultimate redemption: Ingathering of the exiles, return to the land and the destruction of Israel's enemies. While this process has started several times in the history of the Jewish people, it has never been completed. Jews have returned to Israel, but never in peace and never as an entire people.
Many of the details of the time of the redemption are encrypted in the books of the Prophets. Isaiah, in particular, contains a great number of references and is the primary source from which it is understood that the Messiah, the one destined to lead the Jewish people to their ultimate redemption, will come from the Davidic line. "And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse (King David's father), and a branch shall grow out of his roots: And the spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him" (Isaiah 11:1-2).
As fascinating as end-of-days prophecies and the coming of the Messiah may be, the Torah's only apparent reference to a time when redemption will come states: "And it shall come to pass, when all these things are come upon you, the blessing and the curse, which I have set before you, and you shall bethink yourself among all the nations, where the Lord your God has driven you" (Deuteronomy 30:1).
Trying to calculate the exact date of the final redemption is not a high priority for most Jewish scholars. Perhaps that is because Jewish law focuses on the here and now (which is the same reason for the unexpectedly vague discussions of the afterlife).
The Talmud states that "Seven things are hidden from humankind ... [one of them being] when the Davidic dynasty [the Messiah] will return; and when the wicked kingdom will come to an end" (Pesachim 54b).
Nevertheless, we do have some information about the coming of the Messiah. For instance, "Rabbi Kattina said: The world is to last six thousand years, and [for] one thousand it will be desolate" (Rosh Hashana 31a). Now, before one sits down to try to calculate those years (keeping in mind that the Hebrew year is 5763), it is important to consider the following statement by Rav: "All the predestined dates [for redemption] have passed, and the matter [now] depends only on repentance and good deeds" (Sanhedrin 97b).
Rav's statement not only supports the fact that humankind is unable to calculate the date of the coming of the Messiah and the end of the known world, but demonstrates that Judaism is fundamentally about the here and now.
*While the term Messiah is used for savior, it literally means "anointed one."
There have been many who have claimed to have either deciphered or had a mystic revelation of the exact date of the end of the world (as we know it) and the coming of the final redemption. There have also been many who have declared themselves to be the Messiah -- the one who will bring about the ultimate redemption of humankind -- but have not lived up to their promises.
Although the concept of a Messiah* (Moshiach in Hebrew) and an end to the world as we know it is not overtly mentioned in the five books of the Torah, it is actually one of the fundamental articles of Jewish faith. As Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (Maimonides/Rambam) included in his 13 Principles of Faith (as popularly rendered): "I believe with perfect faith in the coming of the Messiah; and even though he may tarry, nevertheless, I wait each day for his coming."
The Torah does, however, describe the future that will befall the Jewish people when (not if) they turn their hearts from the Torah (Deuteronomy 28): The land will be destroyed, the people ravaged by disease before being defeated by enemies and exiled. These events have, sadly, come to pass, repeatedly.
Two chapters later, however, Moses informs the people that after all of the curses have befallen the Children of Israel and they have returned to Him with all their heart and soul, then the curse will be undone. This chapter includes all of the famous promises of the ultimate redemption: Ingathering of the exiles, return to the land and the destruction of Israel's enemies. While this process has started several times in the history of the Jewish people, it has never been completed. Jews have returned to Israel, but never in peace and never as an entire people.
Many of the details of the time of the redemption are encrypted in the books of the Prophets. Isaiah, in particular, contains a great number of references and is the primary source from which it is understood that the Messiah, the one destined to lead the Jewish people to their ultimate redemption, will come from the Davidic line. "And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse (King David's father), and a branch shall grow out of his roots: And the spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him" (Isaiah 11:1-2).
As fascinating as end-of-days prophecies and the coming of the Messiah may be, the Torah's only apparent reference to a time when redemption will come states: "And it shall come to pass, when all these things are come upon you, the blessing and the curse, which I have set before you, and you shall bethink yourself among all the nations, where the Lord your God has driven you" (Deuteronomy 30:1).
Trying to calculate the exact date of the final redemption is not a high priority for most Jewish scholars. Perhaps that is because Jewish law focuses on the here and now (which is the same reason for the unexpectedly vague discussions of the afterlife).
The Talmud states that "Seven things are hidden from humankind ... [one of them being] when the Davidic dynasty [the Messiah] will return; and when the wicked kingdom will come to an end" (Pesachim 54b).
Nevertheless, we do have some information about the coming of the Messiah. For instance, "Rabbi Kattina said: The world is to last six thousand years, and [for] one thousand it will be desolate" (Rosh Hashana 31a). Now, before one sits down to try to calculate those years (keeping in mind that the Hebrew year is 5763), it is important to consider the following statement by Rav: "All the predestined dates [for redemption] have passed, and the matter [now] depends only on repentance and good deeds" (Sanhedrin 97b).
Rav's statement not only supports the fact that humankind is unable to calculate the date of the coming of the Messiah and the end of the known world, but demonstrates that Judaism is fundamentally about the here and now.
*While the term Messiah is used for savior, it literally means "anointed one."
Thursday, December 6, 2012
The Gift of Gifts
The other night, a friend of mine told me how incredulous
she was about how strongly her husband’s family focussed on
the gift-giving aspect of Chanukah. In her own traditional
childhood, her family had only given children Chanukah gelt, a
few pennies or coins. Her husband’s family, on the other hand,
celebrates Chanukah with a large party and lots of gifts. The
Chanukah menorah was lit, but that appears, in her opinion, to
be the extent of tradition.
As I listened to my friend’s insights I noticed that I felt mildly uncomfortable. From a strictly traditional opinion, she was right: There is no historic tradition of gifts associated with Chanukah. On the other hand, my own memories are filled with warm recollections of my parents giving my brother and me little presents each night (and one or two big ones). Those long ago evenings, when my brother and I would ask over and over if my father would soon be home so we could light the menorah, as we tried to pretend that we weren’t really asking how soon until we could get presents, built a foundation for the Judaism that I knew I wanted to give to my own children.
Even before I chose a more traditional lifestyle than the one in which I had been raised, my excitement for the Chanukah holiday had refocused on the act of lighting candles, rather than the gifts (not that I didn’t appreciate them as a teen as well).
In my early twenties, I began to take a deeper interest in Jewish life and Jewish law. I spent a year in Israel studying Judaism in depth. The more I have studied, the fewer halachic (Jewish legal) connections I have found for the giving of gifts, while, at the same time, the more I have noticed what an important role they play in modern Jewish life.
My friend felt that this tradition of giving gifts was a reflection of Christmas and Jewish assimilation. Sadly, this is probably true in many North American homes. It’s even true that when I was a kid, I felt that there was a competition–and often that I had the better end of the deal.
On the other hand, one can, and many have, traced the root of gift-giving back to a custom of Chanukah gelt. Gelt itself is a Yiddish word that might lead one to perceive an Eastern European origin to this tradition.
It is a tradition, however, that has its roots in two Talmudic discussions: One stating that lighting the Chanukah menorah is so important that one who cannot afford oil (or candles) should beg in order to purchase oil, and the second, expressing a correlation between lighting the Chanukah menorah and having intelligent children. From these two concepts, the custom developed to reward children for their studies with a little bit of money. This is Gelt. In time, a penny turned into a small token, which, probably in competition with Christmas, became a bundle of presents.
Let’s face it, most American Jews can recall being asked at least once if they really receive a present on each night of Chanukah. Indeed, most of us can also recall being asked whether Chanukah is “the Jewish Christmas.” This second question is quite ironic, given that the holiday of Chanukah is actually a celebration of a victorious battle against assimilation. At the time of the Maccabees, many Jews found it more comfortable to Hellenize their lives rather than fight to maintain a traditional Jewish lifestyle.
When I was a child, I rarely associated Chanukah with Christmas. We had our holiday and they had theirs. But I can, of course, be honest enough to admit that if I had not received Chanukah presents, I probably would have been jealous of, and desirous for, Christmas.
As a small child, the presents were a major focus, but, because of that, I developed a love for this holiday. As I grew older, my brother and I received fewer presents, but that did not diminish my connection to the holiday.
As a teenager, the societal pressure to celebrate Christmas bothered me tremendously. I was the outspoken choir member who insisted on adding Chanukah songs to the holiday concert and the high schooler who made certain a menorah was also part of the holiday display. My actions were driven by my Jewish pride, not by my desire to compare Chanukah to Christmas. I wanted the Jewish students who were less connected than I was to have a reason to be excited about their own heritage.
Listening to my friend’s dismay at the customs of her husband’s family, I felt, at first, embarrassed that this was the type of home in which I had been raised. The more I thought about it, however, the more I realized that because my parents had never mixed our Chanukah presents with even the slightest hint of that other holiday--there was no Chanukah bush or tinselly decorations--the gifts had been just one more aspect in developing my proud Jewish identity.
As a parent living a traditional Jewish lifestyle, I have not cast away this seeming remnant of assimilation. Instead, my husband and I have incorporated the important Chanukah lesson of Chinuch (education, a word that shares the same Hebrew root as Chanukah). On the nights when our children receive Chanukah presents, each child must answer a question about either Chanukah or the weekly Torah portion. Likewise, when there are gifts to be exchanged between my husband and myself (or the kids and one of us), we must also answer a question.
The other night, I did not say any of this to my friend. I smiled and listened and gave sympathetic answers of tacit agreement. Perhaps I should have said that the end result of the Chanukah presents my parents gave me was the greatest gift of all--my strong sense of my Jewish self.
As I listened to my friend’s insights I noticed that I felt mildly uncomfortable. From a strictly traditional opinion, she was right: There is no historic tradition of gifts associated with Chanukah. On the other hand, my own memories are filled with warm recollections of my parents giving my brother and me little presents each night (and one or two big ones). Those long ago evenings, when my brother and I would ask over and over if my father would soon be home so we could light the menorah, as we tried to pretend that we weren’t really asking how soon until we could get presents, built a foundation for the Judaism that I knew I wanted to give to my own children.
Even before I chose a more traditional lifestyle than the one in which I had been raised, my excitement for the Chanukah holiday had refocused on the act of lighting candles, rather than the gifts (not that I didn’t appreciate them as a teen as well).
In my early twenties, I began to take a deeper interest in Jewish life and Jewish law. I spent a year in Israel studying Judaism in depth. The more I have studied, the fewer halachic (Jewish legal) connections I have found for the giving of gifts, while, at the same time, the more I have noticed what an important role they play in modern Jewish life.
My friend felt that this tradition of giving gifts was a reflection of Christmas and Jewish assimilation. Sadly, this is probably true in many North American homes. It’s even true that when I was a kid, I felt that there was a competition–and often that I had the better end of the deal.
On the other hand, one can, and many have, traced the root of gift-giving back to a custom of Chanukah gelt. Gelt itself is a Yiddish word that might lead one to perceive an Eastern European origin to this tradition.
It is a tradition, however, that has its roots in two Talmudic discussions: One stating that lighting the Chanukah menorah is so important that one who cannot afford oil (or candles) should beg in order to purchase oil, and the second, expressing a correlation between lighting the Chanukah menorah and having intelligent children. From these two concepts, the custom developed to reward children for their studies with a little bit of money. This is Gelt. In time, a penny turned into a small token, which, probably in competition with Christmas, became a bundle of presents.
Let’s face it, most American Jews can recall being asked at least once if they really receive a present on each night of Chanukah. Indeed, most of us can also recall being asked whether Chanukah is “the Jewish Christmas.” This second question is quite ironic, given that the holiday of Chanukah is actually a celebration of a victorious battle against assimilation. At the time of the Maccabees, many Jews found it more comfortable to Hellenize their lives rather than fight to maintain a traditional Jewish lifestyle.
When I was a child, I rarely associated Chanukah with Christmas. We had our holiday and they had theirs. But I can, of course, be honest enough to admit that if I had not received Chanukah presents, I probably would have been jealous of, and desirous for, Christmas.
As a small child, the presents were a major focus, but, because of that, I developed a love for this holiday. As I grew older, my brother and I received fewer presents, but that did not diminish my connection to the holiday.
As a teenager, the societal pressure to celebrate Christmas bothered me tremendously. I was the outspoken choir member who insisted on adding Chanukah songs to the holiday concert and the high schooler who made certain a menorah was also part of the holiday display. My actions were driven by my Jewish pride, not by my desire to compare Chanukah to Christmas. I wanted the Jewish students who were less connected than I was to have a reason to be excited about their own heritage.
Listening to my friend’s dismay at the customs of her husband’s family, I felt, at first, embarrassed that this was the type of home in which I had been raised. The more I thought about it, however, the more I realized that because my parents had never mixed our Chanukah presents with even the slightest hint of that other holiday--there was no Chanukah bush or tinselly decorations--the gifts had been just one more aspect in developing my proud Jewish identity.
As a parent living a traditional Jewish lifestyle, I have not cast away this seeming remnant of assimilation. Instead, my husband and I have incorporated the important Chanukah lesson of Chinuch (education, a word that shares the same Hebrew root as Chanukah). On the nights when our children receive Chanukah presents, each child must answer a question about either Chanukah or the weekly Torah portion. Likewise, when there are gifts to be exchanged between my husband and myself (or the kids and one of us), we must also answer a question.
The other night, I did not say any of this to my friend. I smiled and listened and gave sympathetic answers of tacit agreement. Perhaps I should have said that the end result of the Chanukah presents my parents gave me was the greatest gift of all--my strong sense of my Jewish self.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
In Their Way
A few days ago, my daughter asked me what would happen if a person ate non-kosher food. When I explained to her that nothing physically happens - that one’s tongue does not, as she had thought, become covered in pimples - but that keeping kosher was part of maintaining one’s connection with the spiritual realm. Finding the right answer for this child was just one of the many times that I have had to consider how to raise my children with happy, healthy and strong Jewish identities? It’s a question Jewish parents face in every generation, but more so in an era where the general culture views religious identity as an interesting adornment.
When one looks through the many narratives, commandments and advice that are in both the written and the oral Torah, perhaps the most important statement for today’s Jewish generation is “Educate the youth according to his way” (Proverbs 22:6).
It seems common sense to state that every child is unique, but in the real world of parenting, it is one of the most challenging realities to put into practice. I have four children, and even the children who seem most alike are actually strikingly different in what they need from me. Even without addressing the question of the differences in siblings, there is need to recognize how our children are different from ourselves as well.
Without question, this is an incredible challenge. In fact, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (Germany 1808-1888) references this concept when he asks a simple but difficult question.
How is it possible that a child of Isaac and Rebecca came to be wicked? The clue, Rabbi Hirsch suggests, is in Genesis 25:27, which says that the brothers Esau and Jacob grew up, and only then it indicates that Esau was a hunter while Jacob dwelt in the tent (of study [according to a rabbinic
story]). It is clear, according to Hirsch, based on this verse, that both Esau and Jacob, twins, were
raised in precisely the same environment and with the same methodology.
Rebecca and Isaac did not, however, take into account that Esau possessed a different personality from Jacob and needed his own special environment in order to be raised to become a righteous human being. Esau rebelled against this upbringing, which did not suit his personality and temperament.
Obviously most parents aren’t facing such diametrically opposed personalities as Jacob and Esau, but sometimes it is the subtle differences that need to be noticed in order for a child to feel truly secure.
Some children need and want strict rules to help them feel safe and secure, to mark out the boundaries. Other children, however, need softer discipline -- to have things discussed with them as they make their way through the world. Knowing the needs of each child not only effects how we interact with that child, but the choices we help that child to make. Pushing a child who is not into sports to join the soccer league, little league and to take karate can be detrimental to a child’s self-esteem if he/she never sees himself/herself succeeding at that activity.
One of the critical factors in getting to know one’s child at this deeper level is regular family time. For my family, this happens at the Shabbat table. Although we eat together every night, at Shabbat dinner my husband and I have the luxury of focussing on each child. Additionally, we make certain that we not only ask them questions, but we also share details of their own activities as well.
I felt pretty confident about the answer I gave that child, but if the question had been asked by my younger daughter, a metaphysical response would have been far less appropriate. This was one question, casually asked as we passed a Burger King, but the greater question of raising a Jewish child is ever present.In the end, perhaps the key to raising children with happy, healthy and strong Jewish identities, is discerning what each child connects to in Jewish life. A musical child might connect to the many genres of Jewish music, whereas an intellectual child might enjoy delving into advanced Jewish studies.
When one looks through the many narratives, commandments and advice that are in both the written and the oral Torah, perhaps the most important statement for today’s Jewish generation is “Educate the youth according to his way” (Proverbs 22:6).
It seems common sense to state that every child is unique, but in the real world of parenting, it is one of the most challenging realities to put into practice. I have four children, and even the children who seem most alike are actually strikingly different in what they need from me. Even without addressing the question of the differences in siblings, there is need to recognize how our children are different from ourselves as well.
Without question, this is an incredible challenge. In fact, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (Germany 1808-1888) references this concept when he asks a simple but difficult question.
How is it possible that a child of Isaac and Rebecca came to be wicked? The clue, Rabbi Hirsch suggests, is in Genesis 25:27, which says that the brothers Esau and Jacob grew up, and only then it indicates that Esau was a hunter while Jacob dwelt in the tent (of study [according to a rabbinic
story]). It is clear, according to Hirsch, based on this verse, that both Esau and Jacob, twins, were
raised in precisely the same environment and with the same methodology.
Rebecca and Isaac did not, however, take into account that Esau possessed a different personality from Jacob and needed his own special environment in order to be raised to become a righteous human being. Esau rebelled against this upbringing, which did not suit his personality and temperament.
Obviously most parents aren’t facing such diametrically opposed personalities as Jacob and Esau, but sometimes it is the subtle differences that need to be noticed in order for a child to feel truly secure.
Some children need and want strict rules to help them feel safe and secure, to mark out the boundaries. Other children, however, need softer discipline -- to have things discussed with them as they make their way through the world. Knowing the needs of each child not only effects how we interact with that child, but the choices we help that child to make. Pushing a child who is not into sports to join the soccer league, little league and to take karate can be detrimental to a child’s self-esteem if he/she never sees himself/herself succeeding at that activity.
One of the critical factors in getting to know one’s child at this deeper level is regular family time. For my family, this happens at the Shabbat table. Although we eat together every night, at Shabbat dinner my husband and I have the luxury of focussing on each child. Additionally, we make certain that we not only ask them questions, but we also share details of their own activities as well.
I felt pretty confident about the answer I gave that child, but if the question had been asked by my younger daughter, a metaphysical response would have been far less appropriate. This was one question, casually asked as we passed a Burger King, but the greater question of raising a Jewish child is ever present.In the end, perhaps the key to raising children with happy, healthy and strong Jewish identities, is discerning what each child connects to in Jewish life. A musical child might connect to the many genres of Jewish music, whereas an intellectual child might enjoy delving into advanced Jewish studies.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Rejoicing on Sukkot: Then and Now
Originally published on Huffington Post
Rabbi Nachman of Breslov (1772-1810) declared: Mitzvah gedolah lee'yoht b'simcha tamid -- "To always be happy is a great mitzvah." The commandment to be happy is not included among the positive commandments of the Torah except during the holiday of Sukkot.
The Feast of the Tabernacles, as Sukkot is called in English, is a seven-day holiday in which the Jewish people are commanded to live in temporary dwellings with thatch-like roofs and wave four species. One might ask why the command to be happy is associated with Sukkot rather than Passover, when Jews celebrate being redeemed from slavery in Egypt, or Shavuot, when Jews celebrate receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai.
The holiday of Sukkot is celebrated at the time of the harvest, when farmers bring in the fruits of their labor, and everyone prepares for the onset of winter. This, too, serves as a spur for people to be thankful that the ground brings forth such delights and that trees bear such bountiful fruit. There is no question that, as a result of witnessing the miracle of growth in the field, people are moved to be thankful to the Creator of all things.
But what of the years when the harvest is not good? If Sukkot were purely an agricultural holiday, it would be cruel to command the farmers to rejoice on years that the crops failed. In fact, many commentators have associated the directive to live in the sukkah as a reminder to humankind that the success of their own handiwork is, and always will be, dependent upon Divine will.
Sukkot is celebrated on the 15th of Tishrei, less than one week after Yom Kippur and two weeks after Rosh Hashana. During the High Holidays, every man and woman approaches the Divine throne to beseech God to be forgiven for the sins they may have committed and to be cleansed of their misdeeds. At the end of Yom Kippur, it is assumed that the prayers for atonement have been accepted and that we enter the new year with a clean slate. Sukkot is known as Z'man Sim'chah'tay'nu -- the time of our rejoicing -- because the Jewish people are especially joyful knowing that the world has just been judged and, please God, their prayers for atonement have been accepted.
Although the mitzvah to rejoice in one's feast is emphasized on the holiday of Sukkot, it is a mitzvah that applies to all the Jewish "feast" days. As with all of the mitzvot, the details of the mitzvah are elaborated on in the Talmud:
According to Jewish tradition, the key to a man's heart really is through his stomach! More specifically, through meat and wine. For women, it seems that "retail therapy" is not as new a concept as one might think.
In the days of the sages, and, in truth, for much of history, both a fine cut of meat and a new dress were luxury items. Today, although many of us still enjoy an attractive gift or a juicy steak, it is harder to connect these items to rejoicing. So how can one rejoice on the holidays in the 21st century?
The presence of meat at an ancient meal represented a vast upgrade in menu. Whether one is able to fulfill the mitzvah of eating in the sukkah or not, one can, nevertheless, enhance the festival week by setting the table with attractive china (or nice dishware) and serving a favored delicacy.
The gift of a new garment (whether given or purchased for oneself) represents another means of setting the festival days apart. It is commonly understood that the way one dresses influences the way one feels and acts. Wearing something new, or something which is usually reserved for special occasions, during the days of the festival is one more way of elevating the holiday and of keeping oneself in a festive spirit.
Wine represents our ability to take the mundane and elevate it to the holy. This is an opportunity that we have every day of our lives, but all the more so on the Jewish festivals when we use wine to sanctify the day.
This article is an excerpt from Jewish Treats Complete Guide to Celebrating Sukkot, a free copy of which may be download by clicking here.
Please join us throughout the Jewish High Holidays, on the HuffPost Religion live-blog, updated daily with spiritual reflections, blogs, photos, videos and verses. Tell us your story.
Rabbi Nachman of Breslov (1772-1810) declared: Mitzvah gedolah lee'yoht b'simcha tamid -- "To always be happy is a great mitzvah." The commandment to be happy is not included among the positive commandments of the Torah except during the holiday of Sukkot.
The Feast of the Tabernacles, as Sukkot is called in English, is a seven-day holiday in which the Jewish people are commanded to live in temporary dwellings with thatch-like roofs and wave four species. One might ask why the command to be happy is associated with Sukkot rather than Passover, when Jews celebrate being redeemed from slavery in Egypt, or Shavuot, when Jews celebrate receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai.
The holiday of Sukkot is celebrated at the time of the harvest, when farmers bring in the fruits of their labor, and everyone prepares for the onset of winter. This, too, serves as a spur for people to be thankful that the ground brings forth such delights and that trees bear such bountiful fruit. There is no question that, as a result of witnessing the miracle of growth in the field, people are moved to be thankful to the Creator of all things.
But what of the years when the harvest is not good? If Sukkot were purely an agricultural holiday, it would be cruel to command the farmers to rejoice on years that the crops failed. In fact, many commentators have associated the directive to live in the sukkah as a reminder to humankind that the success of their own handiwork is, and always will be, dependent upon Divine will.
Sukkot is celebrated on the 15th of Tishrei, less than one week after Yom Kippur and two weeks after Rosh Hashana. During the High Holidays, every man and woman approaches the Divine throne to beseech God to be forgiven for the sins they may have committed and to be cleansed of their misdeeds. At the end of Yom Kippur, it is assumed that the prayers for atonement have been accepted and that we enter the new year with a clean slate. Sukkot is known as Z'man Sim'chah'tay'nu -- the time of our rejoicing -- because the Jewish people are especially joyful knowing that the world has just been judged and, please God, their prayers for atonement have been accepted.
Although the mitzvah to rejoice in one's feast is emphasized on the holiday of Sukkot, it is a mitzvah that applies to all the Jewish "feast" days. As with all of the mitzvot, the details of the mitzvah are elaborated on in the Talmud:
Our Rabbis taught: A man is duty-bound to make his children and his household rejoice on a festival, for it is said, 'And you shall rejoice on your feast, [you and your son, and your daughter, etc.]' With what does he make them rejoice? With wine. Rabbi Judah said: Men with what is suitable for them, and women with, what is suitable for them. 'Men with what is suitable for them' -- with wine. And women with what? Rabbi Joseph recited: in Babylonia, with colored garments; in the Land of Israel, with ironed lined garments (Pesachim 109a).
According to Jewish tradition, the key to a man's heart really is through his stomach! More specifically, through meat and wine. For women, it seems that "retail therapy" is not as new a concept as one might think.
In the days of the sages, and, in truth, for much of history, both a fine cut of meat and a new dress were luxury items. Today, although many of us still enjoy an attractive gift or a juicy steak, it is harder to connect these items to rejoicing. So how can one rejoice on the holidays in the 21st century?
The presence of meat at an ancient meal represented a vast upgrade in menu. Whether one is able to fulfill the mitzvah of eating in the sukkah or not, one can, nevertheless, enhance the festival week by setting the table with attractive china (or nice dishware) and serving a favored delicacy.
The gift of a new garment (whether given or purchased for oneself) represents another means of setting the festival days apart. It is commonly understood that the way one dresses influences the way one feels and acts. Wearing something new, or something which is usually reserved for special occasions, during the days of the festival is one more way of elevating the holiday and of keeping oneself in a festive spirit.
Wine represents our ability to take the mundane and elevate it to the holy. This is an opportunity that we have every day of our lives, but all the more so on the Jewish festivals when we use wine to sanctify the day.
This article is an excerpt from Jewish Treats Complete Guide to Celebrating Sukkot, a free copy of which may be download by clicking here.
Please join us throughout the Jewish High Holidays, on the HuffPost Religion live-blog, updated daily with spiritual reflections, blogs, photos, videos and verses. Tell us your story.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Nailbiting and Song - A Strange Combination
This Dvar Torah was written as part of a group that says Tehillim/Psalms together during the month of Elul (through Yom Kippur).
I too would like to thank Caryn and Ruthie for starting this inspiring group. I printed a great number of the divrei Torah on erev Rosh Hashana, and they were incredibly inspiring.
Each year, when I receive the initial email from Caryn and Ruthie, I hem and I haw. I have never been good at daily activities (even now, with 3 kids on anti-biotics for strep, I missed a dose!) This year, Ruthie did not let me hesitate. I had called her for an update on Elisheva Bracha Chaya and she left me no choice by immediately telling me she was signing me up and would give me “easy tehillim.” For this I thank her because it truly did make it easier for me.
As many of you know, I spend my days writing about a wide variety of Jewish topics, which actually sometimes makes it more challenging to feel as if I am writing something new and inspiring. In the past years I have often found myself using this dvar Torah as a cathartic opportunity to both write on a personal level and to open my heart and admit my great challenges. This year has not been without its challenges, and sadly many of them are the exact same challenges I have faced in the years past - too much anger, not enough patience, too much working, too much judging others.
This Shabbas was Shabbas Shuva (yes, I am writing this motzei Shabbas...don’t ask!). This year, instead of trying to “connect” to the “feelings” I think that I am supposed to be feeling, I have found myself approaching the aseret y’mei teshuva in a more practical manner. For Shabbas Shuva it was actually a very, very practical manner. I bought “bitter nail” and put it on my nails and that of my two oldest children who are nail biters. I did NOT bite my nails all Shabbas. (For those of you who don’t know people with this bad habit, let me tell you that it is incredibly difficult to break.) Conscious of the nail biting because of the “bitter nail,” I found myself more conscious of Shabbas in general.
Perhaps this can be a beautiful analogy to all averos. My son told me he doesn’t bite any more. I held out his hand to show him the nails and said...”Yes, you do, you just don’t even realize when you are putting your fingers to your mouth. You do it without noticing.”
How often do we speak loshon harah without realizing it? Ok, butloshen harah is the easy analogy. Let’s be honest, it’s the most frequent trangression people make and, perhaps, the most discussed (except maybe tznius). But look further. How often do we take a bite of something and forget to make a bracha, eat something and never get around to saying the after-bracha, or steal someone else’s time (or even ideas) without considering our actions?
Alas, God has not provided a “bitter nail” for our daily lives because then we would not have free will. (But it would be so much easier!)
When I sat down to write, however, this is not where I expected to go. (Nor can I neatly tie these two sections together...sorry.)
As Shabbas went out, I glanced back at the parasha and had an all together different line of thought. What jumped out at me from this weeks parasha, and connected to next weeks parasha (which is appropriate on Motze Shabbat) was the concept of song.
As I alluded to above, and as those of you who know me will recognize, “spiritual” is not a description I use of myself. I don’t easily connect to the emotional side of Judaism. I don’t get goosebumps at the kosel or lose myself in prayer. (I truly wish that I did.)
When I do wish to daven for something particular, I always feel self-conscious and at a strange loss for word. (Odd for a writer, don’t you think.) A few months ago, feeling challenged by this fact, I decided that when I did wish to turn to personal tefilla, the best means for me to do so would be through song. One of the most moving prayers I ever felt myself pray was when I was in Israel in 1994 and the soldier Nachson Wachsman had been kidnapped by Arabs. That Shabbas, walking to shul at Hebrew U., I sang out to Hashem the refrain from “Bring Him Home” (Les Miserables).
Since making the decision to sing my prayers, I have actually done so on a number of occasions. (I would add here that, perhaps for the first time, I have felt truly moved by reciting Tehillim over the last few weeks when saying them for Elisheva Bracha Chaya...which has also helped me connect to reciting the Tehillim for this group.)
In Parasha Vayelch, it is written “And Moshe wrote this song on that day.” The song, written out in next week’s parash Haazinu, opens with praise of Hashem and a reminder that Hashem is our Creator and the rock of our lives. Moshe sang of all the kindness that Hashem did for our people. But then his song describes the transgressions that overcome our people and God’s wrathful response. From wrath, however, Moshe sang of hope and love and our ultimate redemption.”
Moshe song was both a lesson for the Jewish people, one that is relevant to every generation, and a prayer stated in narrative. Our job is to listen to this prayer and respond by recognizing Hashem’s greatness and following in his ways.
In just a few days it will be Yom Kippur. As we head into this holiest of days, I wonder how I will achieve what I wish to achieve. My greatest height of “spiritual connection” on Yom Kippur was attained through the rigor of standing in shul an entire day. It has been 8 years since I have been able to go to shul on Yom Kippur (Barch Hashem) and, in truth, I no longer even feel that I could concentrate if someone volunteered to take my children all day.
Perhaps, however, I will remember this d’var Torah, my promise to sing and God will accept my heartfelt desire to truly grow in the year to come.
In addition to Caryn, Ruthie and the entire Elul women’s group, I would like to thank my husband for putting the kids to bed and cleaning up while I composed this dvar Torah.
In the merit of the women of this Elul group, I will be giving Tzedakah to Midreshet Rachel v’Chaya.
I wish you all a successful Yom Kippur.
(Oh and don’t’ forget that Montreal is a great place to visit!!!!!)
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