Following a Passion for Sports to IsraelIn Israel, a new five month scholarship program being offered to young aspiring athletes – one of them could be you.
We were commiserating how quickly time is flying, how fast a far away tomorrow becomes a long ago yesterday. We talked about the many plans and goals we figured we’d get to “one of these days,” and how we were letting time get away from us. We both agreed how we should make good use of our moments while we can – something easier said than done, but something we should strive for.
The following poem reflects this sentiment:
Time, I’ve concluded, is both foe and friend.
It launches a beginning – but also brings an end.
It stops for no one, despite fervent pleas
To slow down, to halt, to reverse, to cease.
The clock is ticking, steady and unrelenting,
Not heeding the sorrow of those repenting.
The time they wasted, time needed to retrieve,
But there’s no U-turn, there is no reprieve.
The hands move forward, steady and resolute,
To dream of a rewind is an effort that is moot.
For despite your regrets, your sorrow or pain,
You cannot revisit past moments again.
There is no returning; there is no second chance
To fix a damaged moment, to improve or enhance.
It is a one-time gift that should be wisely used,
For there is no going back if it’s wasted or abused.
The hands of time almost seem to mock,
As they move tenaciously over the face of the clock.
No doubt they would warn us, if they could talk,
That they will not waver, they will never balk.
Time can’t be caught like a passive fish,
To be set aside and retrieved whenever you wish.
Each moment is fleeting, never to come back,
Once it is gone, it’s a moment you now lack.
The clock is ticking; time does not hesitate,
Whether we are ready or not – it does not wait.
It brings on all change, whether too early or too late,
We are at its mercy – that is man’s fate.
The hands move boldly, they have no shame,
Time is uncontrollable, a force we cannot tame.
It has no favorites, it treats everyone the same,
If it is squandered, we have only ourselves to blame.
The clock is ticking; time does not waver,
Each moment is one we should cherish and savor.
To be appreciated and used well at whatever cost,
For once it passes, it is forever lost.
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Leah Katz, a TeenZone camper at Oorah’s TheZone summer camp and an 11th grader at Midwood High School, read her winning essay about how TheZone changed her views on Judaism at the Jewish Heritage Awards Ceremony held at Brooklyn District Attorney Charles Hynes’s office in April. The purpose of the Jewish Heritage Essay Contest is to acquaint public school students with Jewish history and customs and to help foster a deeper understanding of Jewish culture. The contest is open to students of all ethnic and religious backgrounds. Leah’s essay is reproduced in full below.

Moshe Sharett, the head of the Jewish Agency’s Political Department, visited Egypt in 1945. In Cairo he met a most remarkable young woman, a beautiful journalist who was the darling of Egyptian high society – from high-ranking military brass, to culture icons and Muslim sheikhs, to the court of King Faruk.

The two proceeded to talk about everyday things and surprisingly her mother-in-law did not find anything else to criticize. This occurred a few more times, with my client changing the topic every time by complimenting her mother-in-law or mentioning something positive about her.

There is always a lot of confusion surrounding sensory processing disorder – mainly because there are many different diagnoses that fall under the catch-all phrase sensory processing disorder (SPD). Among them are three specific subcategories:
The doctor had warned us that even if we did everything right and followed the protocol after the follicle was of the right size, there was no guarantee of success. Fertilization still had to occur, and just like couples do not necessarily become pregnant every month, we had no way to know if we were actually expecting for two full weeks.
The next chapter of the award-winning novel.
Jewish Press columnist Rebbetzin Esther Jungreis, founder and president of Hineni, the international Torah outreach organization, recently addressed an overflowing audience at the Beth Jacob Congregation of Irvine in southern California. Rebbetzin Jungreis’s address theme, “Making a Good Relationship Magical,” was apropos for the evening’s main mission: raising funds for the Irvine community’s mikveh.
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You have probably been planning your marriage since you were about three. Let’s fast-forward to a big milestone– your twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. (Don’t worry, you don’t look a day over twenty one!) Now, would you appreciate your husband buying you a dozen roses that some florist recommended?
As I mentioned in my earlier articles about our family trip to Israel, our night flight went pretty smooth, thanks to my children’s willingness to sleep throughout the flight. I, on the other hand, didn’t sleep a wink and I wasn’t feeling too great by the time we landed. But we were finally in Israel, and just being in the beautifully renovated Ben Gurion airport and hearing all the Hebrew around us was exciting enough.
While all the flowers that grace your Shavuos table will surely be a delight to your eye, these will be a delight for your palette as well. Create them at any level, simple or sophisticated; any way you make them they’re sure to be a sensation.
Welcome back to “You’re Asking Me?” where we attempt to answer questions sent in by people who fortunately have fake names, so they won’t be embarrassed. I don’t know how they got through school, though.
Speechless wonder is the reaction to the beautiful vision seen though the Arch of the Keshet Cave at the Adamit Park in the Galilee. One of the most amazing natural wonders in Eretz Yisrael, the Me’arat Hakeshet — also known as the Rainbow Cave or Arch Cave — can be found up against the Israel-Lebanon border just a few kilometers from Rosh Hanikra and the sparkling blue Mediterranean Sea. It is situated amid the wild scenery on the cliffs of Nachal Betzet and Nachal Namer, on the Adamit Ridge.

One of the subjects I was taught as a young child in school was Tefillah. Since we spoke only Ivrit during our Limudei Kodesh and secular Hebrew studies – literature, creative writing and Jewish history – we pretty much understood the words we were davening.

Shortly before Pesach, I received a rather agitated call from a long time reader of The Jewish Press who pleaded with me to write a column regarding what she insisted was the unwarranted high cost of Pesach food – in particular shmurah matzah – and how hard it was for young families to pay what she felt were over-inflated prices in order to keep strictly kosher.
The price of deliberate obliviousness is very high – emotionally, physically, socially, and financially.
How is it possible that a person of seemingly normal intelligence (nowhere does it say he is simple) not have the ability to ask a question – to not react and enquire as to the why of the hustle and bustle around him?
It was one of those cold, rain-soaked evenings – the kind that make you look forward to a hot drink, a good book and a soft couch to curl up on. With those happy thoughts in mind, I proceeded to cross to the other side of the street.
The other day I was shopping at a large supermarket and happened to go down the frozen foods aisle, past the endless freezers containing every imaginable flavor, shape and size of ice cream. I rarely buy. Rather I am like a tourist in a museum – gawking at wondrous objects that I know I can’t take home with me.
He stood his ground despite the intense pressure to do what everyone else was doing. His integrity was more important to him than “fitting in.”
There is a wise Yiddish saying that translates into this observation: “Yichus (illustrious ancestors) is like potatoes – they are both under the ground.”
Printed from: http://www.jewishpress.com/sections/magazine/the-clock-is-ticking/2009/07/08/
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