Lessons In Emunah

My wonderful machateinista, hearing my tale of woe, took it upon herself to assist in the apartment quest, contacting every realtor she knew and requesting leads.

The shul was finally opened with air conditioning, furniture, and books, and has been serving Eshel for about 40 years. But that isn’t the end of Miller’s story.

Recently, I discovered a frum website, www.jewish-e-books.com, that allows one to download hundreds of Jewish books – both in English and Hebrew. Having written a sefer myself, I was able to get it put on their website.

For all of you readers who think that my husband committed the ultimate offense and forgot the date of our wedding anniversary AND that his issues with Social Security would therefore pale in comparison to his issues with me, allow me to clarify.

Hashem has put me in the right place at the exact time. It was a true miracle.

At the age of 32, he discovered he was Jewish. Michael was born to a gentile, Greek father and a Belgian mother, whom he assumed was gentile as well. When Michael married his Catholic girlfriend, Susan, his mother still did not divulge her background.

I slept in fits and starts that night. Thoughts were tumbling around in my mind like clothes in a washing machine, entangled together.

Leah and Benyamin were both so used to being independent that Leah did not consider asking anyone for help.

Rabbi Sha'air spoke to the mother and the child and was about to accept and register the boy when the mother said: I must tell you, Rabbi. I don't have any money to pay you. Not now, and it's not likely that I'll have any money to pay you later in the year either.

The first and only time I said I was a rabbi was also the first and only time I had a gun pointed at me. What led me to that moment was my need to stay on the Upper West Side for a Shabbos and a hospitality committee that arranged for me to stay with a man who lived in the former janitor’s apartment on the fifth floor of a synagogue.

When my very busy friend and former neighbor called to say, “I have a story to tell you,” I knew it had to be a good one. I wasn’t disappointed.

On December 31, 2009, my father was diagnosed with cancer. Sadly, almost everyone will be touched by this horrible disease in one fashion or another. I have had many friends who have been affected by cancer, but they were younger and stronger than my dad, or Tatinke, who is 84.

As he was en route, with one scholar and one scholar-wannabe in tow, he was unfortunately involved in a too-close encounter with a huge army truck.

A “small-world connection” to be sure but this knowledge is not the surprise that Hashem yisborach had awaiting me.

Is it just me? Maybe it’s the aging factor. The shorter days perhaps? Somehow by the time the day is done there is still so much left to do. This nagging sensation becomes even more acute right before the end of the year when you know you’ll soon need to give a din v’cheshbon and will, in all likelihood, come up short.

Seeing my distress, a very kind employee named Lori (whose last name I regretfully forgot to ask about) very compassionately offered me the use of a stroller she just “happened to have” in the back room of their office.

By 1939 when World War II broke out, Aliyat Ha'noar had brought over five thousand Jewish children and youth out of Europe to Palestine.

It was early evening in Jerusalem. I was exhausted, and thankful that the light rail train had arrived. Along with all the other passengers, I jockeyed for a place to stand where I could place some of my bundles on the floor. At the next stop a seat became available, and I was grateful to be able to claim it.

It is very important for Jews to first help family, then other Jews close to us, then Jews not as close. Next, if possible and appropriate, Jews should help those of any race or creed.

Soon after Hurricane Sandy’s devastation was just starting to sink in, news of a second approaching powerful storm called a “Nor’easter” was heard around the tri-state area. Another probable loss of power, hot water and other conveniences left us anxious and worried. In Lakewood, New Jersey there is a small mikveh building near the lake, and the woman working there shared this story about the storm’s impact.

There are people who come over to help us give the babies a bath. We have all learned to do this in assembly line fashion. We could not do it all alone.

Everything given us is for the best. Yet some of us forget this when we should know better. I recently moved to another state and needed to see an ophthalmologist. My brother and sister-in-law have been living in that state for 10 years, and my brother's wife said she would make an appointment for me.

I teach our students that nothing happens by chance and certainly that includes a raffle drawing. Hashem is running the world and everything that happens in it.

I was walking home from my weekly Tehillim group when I encountered a very worried-looking young woman. She told me she had been standing outside her apartment when she encountered an old man. He seemed lost, and did not respond to her offer of help. She noticed he was not wearing shoes.

Sounding like a typical Lubavitcher, I told that just by striking the match, she is bringing more light into the world, so what’s the problem?

On that particular day the aforementioned rav and the rosh yeshiva left the yeshiva for a few hours to research an army base that could possibly offer some opportunities to their boys down the line.

The woman closest to her smiled and said, "I'm not, but my great grandmother was, and I like Jewish people."

Suddenly, the pilot's voice could be heard. He explained that this was a special day for those passengers on board who lived in Israel.

Out of this unobtrusive instrument, came the sounds of classical music, beautifully played.

Our reactions range from dismay to shellshock to utter helplessness. In fact, her youngest sister has yet to forgive her for the very unpleasant and unwelcome surprise that greeted us that morning.