The Power of Words

The whole of Jerusalem was in an uproar! A leader of Chasidic movement and his wife had just given birth to their first child - a boy - after being childless for twenty-eight years! Well over a thousand people came by to congratulate the proud parents. It was then that the father indicated that he would like to say a few words.

He began in a loud voice, "When I was still an unmarried student learning in the Rabbinical School, there was a cleaning lady who would come by every day to tidy up and scrub the study hall and adjoining rooms. She was a fixture in school and devoted her life to upkeeping the  building. She was, however, not a wealthy person by any stretch and as her own family grew she was at a loss of options as far as taking care of her children. She decided to bring her kids with her to work, and as she cleaned and mopped in one area of the building, the young children would run amuck, screaming, crying and generally causing quite a commotion, in the rest of the yeshiva. At first, we put up with it; we even thought it was cute for a time. But after a while, the kids really began to disrupt us in our learning. Try as we might to control them, they wouldn't listen and continued on in their childish games and noise. A number of younger students asked me, as one of the oldest in the group to ask her not to bring her children anymore to school.

"I agreed to talk to her and I brazenly walked up to her and told her that her kids were disturbing everyone in yeshiva and she should find some sort of alternative method of child-care for them. I'll never forget how she looked at me with tired eyes and said, 'Young man , you should never have the pain and anguish that one goes through when raising children.

The crowd gasped.

"As many of you know," continued the father, "my wife and I have been to countless doctors who've recommended every sort of treatment. We moved abroad for awhile to be near an 'expert' which proved to be fruitless. One last, extreme treatment was offered and after trying that, it too, turned out to be just a fantasy; we felt doomed to a life without the pleasure of raising a family.

"After that last attempt, as we walked back into the apartment that we lived in for the past twenty-eight years, our entire sad situation hit us full force, like a ton of bricks. Together, we broke down crying, trying to figure out why G-d was testing us this way.

"All of a sudden, I remembered the episode with the cleaning lady and the "blessing" she had given me. It occurred to me to try and reach her and ask for forgiveness. But after all these years, who knows where she would be?

"I spent hours on the phone until I came up with an address, which I ran over to immediately. She did not recognize me obviously, but when I told her over the story, a spark flickered in her eyes. I tearfully apologized for my harsh words and she graciously forgave me with her whole heart."
Beaming from ear to ear, the father announced, “That took place exactly nine months ago!" 

(©2014. Printed with permission from Rabbi Baruch Lederman, author of Shulweek www.kehillastorah.org.)

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Lost Wallet

This incidence happened to me personally and I am glad it did, because it would be hard to believe that such story can really happen.

My girlfriends and I planned to go to New York City for a day of cultural fun. We live in Philadelphia and decided to take a train from Trenton to New York. It made sense to drive to Trenton together in three cars, instead of each one of us driving separately. We arrived in the morning at Trenton Train Station and parked at the garage. We then took the train to NY and went with our daily plan of visiting museums and spending time together.  All of the tickets were pre-bought and I never once needed to get my wallet. On the way back home, after exiting the train I realized that my wallet was missing. I was pretty certain that I dropped it on the train. As I was running back to the train, I was going over all the things that I just lost; credit cards, driver’s license, car insurance, ids, money… The wallet was not under my seat. I was devastated. My friends tried to calm me down but I just wanted to be alone. I dragged behind them , overwhelmed  by the enormous amount of work of restoring lost documents.  As I followed behind, I did not realize that we were walking around the garage in circles, looking for our car.

Suddenly, while going up the steps for the third time I heard someone call my name. I looked up from my misery and saw an older couple. The lady was holding up my driver’s license, looking intensely at the picture while comparing my face to the one on the picture. I was speechless. She held my wallet in the other hand and asked if I was indeed the rightful owner of the lost article. I was so shocked that I could barely speak.  Apparently, I lost my wallet in the morning when I was getting out of the car. It fell under the couple’s car and they arrived on the train that came a few minutes after our train. When they pulled out of the parking space, they saw a wallet under their car. Being the honest people that they were, they decided to walk around the parking lot looking for the owner. What were the chances of finding me after 12 hour day at the parking garage? The only reason we ‘bumped’ into each other was because we couldn’t find the car. If we remembered the parking space, we would have left 15 minutes before.

All of us were in complete shock. The couple insisted that it was G-d providence that we mat on the garage staircase. It was hard to deny that fact. I offered money but they refused. I promised to make a donation on their behalf and they agreed to a great cause of 'Cancer Research'.

Time went by but the lesson stayed with me. When we feel aggravated by being stuck in traffic, looking for a lost item, waiting for someone, being delayed or redirected by Divine Providence, remember that you are exactly where you are meant to be! This too is for the best. Relax and enjoy the Journey!

Lesson from the World Famous Performer

Though born in the Jewish state, Omri's childhood was devoid of any Judaism. Omri Vartash grew up in Kibbutz Ruchama - an affiliate of the communist Shomer HaTzair Movement.

A product of secular Israel, it didn't occur to anyone, apparently, to mark his bar mitzvah - not even with a symbolic celebration. He'd never set foot in a synagogue, or wanted to. "I knew that religious people didn't eat bread on Passover, but that was the extent of my information on that holiday."

His parents enrolled him in the School of the Arts in Mitzpeh Rimon, to develop his artistic talents. When, in time, Omri received a tempting invitation: to travel to Italy, the home of theater, to study acting, he jumped at it. The Theater Lab was headed by the world-renowned Jerzy Grotowski, who even after his death is held in such high esteem that some theater fans stand up respectfully at the very mention of his name.

"My parents were elated to hear that I would be studying with the great Grotowski," Omri recalled. "They stood tall, bursting with pride, and told anyone who was willing to listen!"

Occasionally, Grotowski would invite one of his students for a private meeting. His students hailed from all over the world. "Every one of us hoped for a chance for such intimacy with our mentor, a relaxed conversation in his home or in some secluded place. We learned so much from him then; it was a mini-lesson on the 'tricks of the trade' of theater life, a truly eye-opening talk.”

And then one day, it was Omri's turn. He was beside himself with excitement. What would Grotowski say to him? What questions should he ask "the master"?

Grotowski invited Omri to dinner in an Italian restaurant. There, in the midst of devouring an enormous plate of spaghetti, he asked the young Israeli a very pointed question: "What do you know about the Baal Shem Tov?" He even pronounced the Baal Shem Tov's name correctly

"Baal what?" Omri asked, thoroughly confused and at a loss. "What Shem?" The words sounded like Hebrew, but what was Grotowski talking about?

Now it was the great director's turn to be shocked. "You are a Jew, are you not?! Do you mean to tell me that you've never heard of the Baal Shem Tov?! Who educated you?! Where did you grow up?! Why, he was one of the greatest men of your nation!"

Grotowski, the Polish gentile, looked long and hard at his student. Then, patiently, he proceeded to tell him about the Chassidic movement, which began in the Ukraine and spread across Grotowski's native Poland. But mostly, he described the holy Baal Shem Tov, and the miracles he performed.

Omri Vartash, kibbutz-born secular Israeli, sat in an Italian restaurant in the heart of Rome, and listened breathlessly. He'd never heard anything remotely like it.

"It was the most meaningful discussion of my life. I started to think: 'How could this knowledge have been hidden from me for all these years? I'm completely disconnected from the history of my own people! How is it that a Polish gentile knows more than I do?"

Omri never imagined what would happen next. The next morning, Grotowski phoned to set up another meeting with his Jewish student. And he gave him a book, an English translation of Shivchei HaBesht (Praises of the Baal Shem Tov). "Read this! It will greatly enrich you," his "teacher” told him. Omri took the book, and so began his journey into Judaism. He read the book from start to finish, and the more he read, the more he wanted to know. Meanwhile, Grotowski was keeping tabs on his student, to see what he would do with his newfound knowledge.

"I'm simply astonished!" Omri told him. "But what should I do next?"

"Continue your search!" Grotowski told Omri. "You came here on a spiritual quest but all the spirituality you could ever need is right there before you, in your own ancient religion! I know that there are special books that explain the laws and customs to Jews who are searching for the truth."

Omri didn't sit idle; he went looking for more. And he began committing himself to observing certain practices. "I started by maintaining a separation between milk and meat, despite the fact that I didn't yet eat kosher food. And, with Grotowski's encouragement, I began going to synagogue for the first time in my life. I tried to take part in the prayers.”

"The deeper I went in my research of Judaism, the deeper my relationship became with Grotowski. My non-Jewish friends noticed that the two of us had developed a special kinship. He would question me in great detail about my visits to the synagogue, and about my experiences during prayer.”

"You have no further need to remain here," he told Omri, one day. "You must return home, and continue there to search for your roots."

And Omri, forever loyal and obedient to his master's words, packed up his bags and returned to Israel.

When he got home, he told his baffled parents just what he had learned from the famous director Grotowski: that he needed to become religious.

"My parents were speechless. Totally. They'd sent me to him so that I'd return as an accomplished actor. Instead, I was now going to become a religious Jew!"

In Jerusalem, he continued along the path to Judaism. Omri accepted upon himself, completely and absolutely, the yoke of religious observance, and totally became a part of the Torah world.

On the advice of a Torah sage, Omri decided that he needed to make use of his acting skills and of everything he had learned in Italy, in order to increase awareness of Torah. He and an actor friend, who was also returning to his roots, began to write skits that would teach children about their heritage.

"What we try to do is to use our acting skills to serve the greater public. We are tools to assist people in rediscovering their beliefs,” explains Omri.

The duo began their work with no equipment, no scenery, and no props. They traveled, as they were, from school to school, and performed for children. Today, three years later, there's no sector of society before whom the duo haven't performed - Yeshiva schools, Chassidic cheders, even some secular high schools. A highlight of their career was being awarded a National Prize, in recognition of a play they wrote, and performed all over the country, about guarding one's speech.

There is one performance that to Omri will never forget. The school principal warned that none of his students could sit still for more than five minutes. Throughout the play, the children sat unmoving, their eyes glued to the stage. Afterwards, one of the students, complete with a dyed blond, moussed, "mushroom-style'' hairdo, approached. There were tears in his eyes. He had a tough appearance, but his heart was soft. "You spoke about prayer," he explained. "Never in my life did I cry as much as I cried just now."

Says Omri: "Keep in mind that we're talking about a teenager whose entire life is entwined in the Western culture, with all its ugliness. Yet the Torah message succeeded in penetrating his soul, and awakening his faith. That is what is most moving for us." (The foregoing was researched by Aharon Granot.) (©2014. Printed with permission from Rabbi Baruch Lederman, author of Shulweek www.kehillastorah.org.)

'The Israeli flag is our Iron Dome'

Convenience store owner, whose store suffered damage from a nearby mortar hit, was amazed to find the only thing that remained undamage was the Israeli flag.

Ilana Curiel

Published: 08.11.14, 12:16 / Israel News

When Silviya Orshchovsky arrived at her convenience store in kibbutz Ein HaShlosha on the Gaza border on Monday morning, she was shocked to discover the great damage caused to the structure from a mortar rocket that landed nearby.

It what was even more shocking was that while the entire front wall of the structure was peppered with shrapnel holes, the Israeli flag hung over the front door remained completely undamaged.

"The flag stayed hanging," one of the residents of the kibbutz said.

 "The bomb fell on the road in front of the store. It hit the walls; it's all holes in the door and everywhere else, just not on the flag. It remained untouched," Orshchovsky said.

The store, located in a kibbutz in the Eshkol Regional Council that is right on the Gaza border, remained closed on Monday morning. "We have no communications or water, so we didn't open," Orshchovsky said.

'The flag is our Iron Dome' (Photo: Silviya Orshchovsky)

Orshchovsky spoke of the complicated situation in which the kibbutz residents found themselves - living in-between ceasefires.

"The situation here is unpleasant. It's very scary that we don't know where we stand. It's sad to see the kibbutz empty like this, without children," she said.

"I left only for a week, and came back because I wanted to be with my husband Sergio. It was harder for me to be far away up north than to be in the kibbutz," she added.

Our flag was still there (Photo: George Ginsburg)

Orshchovsky went on to say the residents of Ein HaShlosha weren't feeling safe.

"We have no security here, we're not safe. We don't know what could happen today or the day after tomorrow. The ceasefire is neither here nor there. Our children don't go outside because they can't. They returned to the kibbutz but remain inside the house. What kind of a routine is that for them? We want to live like in Tel Aviv, like in the north. I hope they don't start shooting again."
 

Visiting the Sick

Visiting the sick is one of the greatest commandments in the Torah. Rabbi Abba son of Rabbi Hanina said that “He who visits the sick takes away one sixtieth of his pain”. 

I would like to share with you a real life miracle story. My aunt passed away at a young age of 54. She battled cancer and excruciating pain over the last 7 years. Things were at its worse 6 years ago, when she was put into an induced coma and all of her organs except for her heart and brain had failed. The doctors had told us that she had about a 0.5-1% chance of surviving. We all prayed and many people had visited her in ICU as she had laid there looking worse and worse. However, seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours, hours turned to days and in one month she actually woke up from the coma and all of her organs had restarted! There was not one doctor in the hospital who could explain how she survived. Medics would come visit her and just stare at her chart, trying to scientifically explain her recovery, but could not. She was now breathing on her own. Interestingly, when she woke up, she immediately started singing songs in Yiddish. Due to the extreme pain in her legs, she could not walk. This is common after a month long coma. Doctors then came and said she would not be able to walk as the nerves in the bottom of her feet are dead and show no signal. 

What do you think happened? Within half a year with no signal in the nerves under her feet, she was not just walking but driving herself to the supermarket. In June 2009, she celebrated her 50^th birthday where she walked around the restaurant and took shots (she drank water) with all her friends and family and even did some dancing.

Regardless of her miraculous recovery, people continued to visit and support her every day throughout the next 6 years. Those visits is what gave her the strength to survive to her last day. I had the merit to dance her last dance with her 8 days before she passed. My grandmother had not left her sight from the first day of her hospitalization and was the key in keeping her alive all these years. What makes this story even more miraculous? A few weeks later after she recovered and left ICU, another woman was brought into her old room with the same exact condition and the same slim chance of recovery. She also had a mother that never left her sight and she also recovered!!!!! The doctors would call her Polina 2!

I would like to take this idea to the next level and ask how can we apply this in our lives. Many of our fellow friends and family members go through stress every day. We all know someone who is sick, out of work, have a broken heart, feel lonely, betrayed, lost money or just simply had a bad day. We all have the ability to help each other heal. Simply visiting or calling a friend or extending our friendship to a stranger can do tremendous things. Kindness is what life is all about. As Hillel said,“Love your fellow as yourself” and the rest are just commentaries. 

Letter to the Three Mothers

by Slovie Jungreis-Wolff
You taught us how to live with the light of faith that defies even the darkest nightmare.

Dear Bat-Galim, Iris and Racheli,

What is there left for me to say? There are no words to describe the grief and pain we have all been feeling for your beautiful boys.

Racheli, I read your final good bye to Naftali and hot tears spilled down my cheek. “Rest in peace my child. We will learn to sing without you.”

Iris, your husband spoke for you to Eyal as the nation listened: “Your siblings want you near them…but Ima said that you are right now at God’s side. She asked that you whisper to God; ask Him to give her strength, to give us all strength.”

We all feel the same. There is a huge hole inside our hearts. We ask for strength.

I would like to thank you, dear mothers, on behalf of all the Jewish people, especially us mothers who know what it is to feel a child’s heart beat within. We mourn the loss of your precious sons. From the very first moment of this tragedy you carried Am Yisrael on your shoulders even as you bore your own anguish. You walked and talked with dignity as the eyes of the entire world were on you. We never heard you utter a word of complaint, a grumble, an angry scream of ‘why me’. Instead you taught us how to live with the light of faith so blinding it defies even the darkest nightmare.

You inspired all of us to do better and be better for your sons. We made promises to be kinder and watch our words. We vowed to kindle our Shabbos candles earlier; some for the very first time. We cried as we circled the flames and covered our eyes thinking of you. Little children went to sleep with a prayer on their lips, “Oh God, please bring our boys home.” Who could not be touched by the battalion of combat soldiers who have undertaken the commandment of wearing tefillin daily for the merit of the souls of Eyal, Naftali and Gilad?

Jews of all types, usually divided, stood together as never before. Young and old, religious and secular, Ashkenazi and Sephardi, all united. For once there were no walls. For 18 days we loved unconditionally. In unity we discovered how easy it is to break down barriers between brothers and sisters. You showed us the way. You did not choose this grueling test but you did pave the road on which we now walk, humbled, right behind you. It is a road paved with oceans of tears. I dare say it is holy.

Taken by the Nazis

When I was a little girl I would hear stories of brave Jewish mothers who suffered the loss of their children. Mothers like Channah whose seven sons refused to bow down to idols. Their only ‘crime’ was that they were born Jews. Not one son agreed to renounce his faith. Channah was forced to confront an unbearable pain. And yet she remained steadfast in her loyalty to God. I remember trying to picture the scene in my young mind but it seemed like an ancient tale from long ago.

“How can I sleep in my bed when Yosef Dov is not here? Is he cold? Is he hungry? Is he frightened?”

When I became older my father once shared with us the story of his own mother. One night there was a knock on the door. My father’s older brother, Yosef Dov , was brutally taken away as the Nazis began to come to power in Hungary. That evening my grandmother sat on her couch weeping. Hours passed. My father urged his mother to try and lay down in her bed. “How can I sleep in my bed when Yosef Dov is not here? Who knows where he is? What has happened? Is he cold? Is he hungry? Is he frightened?”

That was the very last time my grandmother laid eyes on her son. My grandmother never again slept in her bed. She mourned her child until the day that she, too, was taken away and both died Al Kiddush Hashem, sanctifying the name of God.

I think of my grandmother’s sleepless nights, her many tears, her longing for her son and I think of you. You now join a long line of courageous women who brought precious life into this world only to be asked to return that life to the heavens above in sanctity. I think of your pain. I contemplate your suffering. I know that you are the Channah’s of today. You have given the greatest sacrifice. You have touched us all.

Is there any comfort we can offer you?

Never Alone

Please know, holy women, that we will never forget your sons. Their sweet faces are etched into our memories. When I close my eyes, I see their photos side by side. Young, shining stars, whose lights were snuffed out too soon. Their smiles do not leave me. I know that I am not alone when I say that we have all been transformed. We have tried to take this time of suffering and use it to rededicate ourselves. Many of us are trying to be better human beings and better Jews. Though time will pass, we will not leave the memories of your sons behind. We dare not.

You do not stand on this earth alone. Passover night we sing ‘Who Knows One?” The song continues as we ask “Who knows four? Four are the mothers,” we reply. Dear three mothers of Israel, remember always that there is one more mother who stands beside you. She has stood through exile, pogroms, inquisition, and Holocaust. She is Mother Rachel who to this day weeps for her children. Together you make four.

As the Jews were taken into the Babylonian exile and our Temple was in flames, it was the prayers of Mother Rachel that finally gave us hope and consolation. God responded to her tears.

“Thus said Hashem: A voice is heard on high, wailing, bitter weeping. Rachel weeps for her children; she refuses to be consoled for her children are gone. Thus said Hashem: Cease your weeping, wipe your tears, for there is reward for your accomplishment. Your children will come home. (Jeremiah 31, 14)

Bat-Galim, Iris and Racheli we say to you that your tears are not in vain. Mother Rachel joins you and weeps for your sons. We all do.

I pray that God answers our prayers quickly. It is time for our children to come home.

“May God wipe away your tears.”

Slovie Jungreis Wolff

 

Getting to the Meeting on Time

In the early afternoon hours I was calmly walking to the station for the intercity bus. I noticed a man running with all his might to catch a bus that was standing in the station. When he reached the bus, the doors were closed and the bus had started rolling into the street. All his attempts to get the bus driver to open the doors were for naught. His pounding and shouting did not help, the driver simply decided to block him out and continue on his way. When I reached the bus stop I found him angry and frustrated beyond words and he was burning up as if he was literally on fire. His friend – an older man who arrived at the bus stop within a few minutes found him cursing and swearing; cursing the bus driver and the bus company and everyone else he could think of. 

After the older gentleman heard what had happened, he said "I heard that you are angrily cursing because you were late for the bus and because you will be late for an important meeting. Tell me the truth – in the fifty times that you arrived and boarded the bus on time did you ever raise your head to Heaven and say ‘Thank You’?”

A sweet silence filled the air when the question reached his ears with the sharp rebuke. After a few minutes, he calmed down and he said “You are right! But I am angry not only because I will be late to the meeting but because the driver could have opened the doors but he chose not to.” 

To this the older gentleman replied “Everything is supervised from Above and you have to give thanks for the bad just as you would for the good!”

The man, who had cooled off from his anger agreed with these words of wisdom. Just then a car stopped in the station and asked for directions exactly to the place the man had to go to. The driver gladly took him along.

The whole time I stood on the side pretending to be reading a book. I got on the arriving bus with and as we were traveling, I noticed the earlier bus standing on the side of the road because something had happened to it. Some of the passengers were getting on the bus in which I was sitting. 

It became clear how everything is for the best for had then man gotten on the previous bus he surely would have been late for his meeting. Since he did not get on the bus but took the ride in the car he was able to get to his meeting on time!