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April 17, 2014 / 17 Nisan, 5774
At a Glance

Posts Tagged ‘shul’

Now, This Is a Lulav

Friday, October 5th, 2012

Here’s an image of the Lubavitcher Rebbe benching his lulav and etrog.

 

Nancy commented, when she saw this image, how his eyes always look directly at you in all his pictures.

The etrog is upside down, which I thought meant the Rebbe is about to make the blessing, but reader JK was quick to correct me (from his iPhone) that the Rebbe never turned the etrog upside down and didn’t bench in shul.  He also added: “Get things right before writing to thousands.”

I was impressed by the lavish assortment of hadassim and aravot in his lulav bunch. Why haven’t I thought about it before? All these years I’ve been carefully counting them out, three of this, two of that – when I could have this big, fluffy hedge of a lulav.

This morning I plan to take my spare branches and add them to the ones that have so far survived the daily benching, see what that looks like.

Chag Same’ach!

Driveway Sukkah

Thursday, October 4th, 2012

Sam Berger and Moti Farber shared a two family house, with a joint driveway in front. The Farbers had an extensive family, whereas Sam was relatively young and just recently had his fourth child.

For the past ten years, Moti had built a large sukkah that covered almost the entire driveway, whereas the Bergers would spend the holiday with their parents.

This year however, was different. As Sukkos approached, Moti saw Sam measuring the driveway with a tape measure and some wooden beams. “What are you measuring?” Moti asked.

“Our family is beginning to grow and it’s getting harder to stay at the parents for all of Yom Tov,” said Sam. “We’re planning to build a sukkah this year.”

“How big a sukkah?” asked Moti.

“Eight feet square,” said Tom.

“Is there enough room left in the driveway with our sukkah?” asked Moti.

“That’s what I was checking,” replied Sam. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem so.”

“So where will you build it?” asked Moti.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” said Sam.

“Why don’t you build your sukkah in the back of the house?” asked Moti.

“It’s not convenient there,” replied Sam. “It means walking around the back all the time.”

“What’s the other option?” asked Moti.

“I’m going to have to ask you to make your sukkah somewhat smaller,” said Sam, “and leave me room in the driveway.”

“But I can’t do that,” protested Moti. “Even with the big sukkah we’re tight, and our married daughter and son are both coming for the first days with their seven children.

“I’m sorry about that,” replied Sam, “but I’m entitled to my share of the driveway just as you are.”

“But you allowed me years ago to build the sukkah there,” argued Moti. “I’ve been building this sukkah for ten years!”

“I never said I gave you permission forever,” answered Sam. “I was happy to allow you to build your sukkah there so long as I didn’t need the space, but not when I also need the space.”

“But I’m established there,” said Moti. “You can’t make me move!”

“The fact that we didn’t need a sukkah in previous years,” replied Sam, “doesn’t mean that we relinquished our rights!”

“If you had no other place I’d understand,” said Moti. “But just because the back is not as convenient is no reason to ruin our Sukkos plans. It’s going to be very hard to fit into a smaller sukkah.”

“You can make it a little smaller and squeeze a bit,” said Sam. “It’s not fair to expect us to use the backyard.”

“We need to discuss this with Rabbi Dayan,” said Moti.

“Agreed,” said Sam. “Let’s make an appointment with him. I’ll give him a call.”

The following evening, Sam and Moti met with Rabbi Dayan in his study and presented their case.

“Uncontested usage of a property for an extended time can indicate ownership or usage rights of that property,” said Rabbi Dayan. “This is known in halacha as chazaka. Everybody agrees that to indicate ownership of the property requires three years of steady use and a legal basis for the claim of ownership. Usage or squatting alone does not make something yours.” (C.M. 140:7)

“I am not claiming sole ownership of the driveway, though,” said Moti, “just usage rights to continue building my sukkah as is on the joint property.”

“That is true,” said Rabbi Dayan. “Typically, though, one partner does not protest if the other partner makes temporary use of the joint property. Therefore, the fact that you used the driveway for many years to set up your sukkah does not establish a chazaka of usage rights. Only if you were to build a permanent wall or affix anchors in the driveway could you possibly establish a chazaka.” (140:15; SM”A 140:22; Shach 140:20)

“There is an additional reason why building a sukkah cannot serve as a chazaka without some permanent element,” added Rabbi Dayan. “Sam continued to use the driveway for the rest of the year. Many authorities maintain that one cannot establish even a chazaka of usage rights when the other party also uses the area.” (See Ketzos 140:3; Nesivos 140:19, 153:12; Emek Hamishpat, Shechenim, p. 39.)

“There was nothing permanent put up all these years,” said Sam. “The sukkah was constructed and completely dismantled each Yom Tov, and we share the driveway the rest of the year.”

Teddy Bears

Friday, September 28th, 2012

Shimon looked up at me with a serious look in his bright green eyes as he earnestly told me, “I’m going to measure which one is heavier, my mitzvos or my avayros.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his five year old virtues and watched as he took down the toy scale and took little teddy bears, moving them from side to side, looking for the correct balance.

Maybe I should’ve shared my snack? A teddy bear goes to the other side. I davened so nicely with Morah. Another teddy bear on the other side. I watched as Shimon moved teddy bears from side to side, wondering whether he even remembered his original statement. He seemed to be mesmerized, barely noticing anything around him. Just moving teddy bears from side to side.

I didn’t play with Eli even when he asked me to. Teddy bear on the other side. I helped Morah clean up before running to go swimming. Teddy bear. I didn’t forget any clothes by the pool. Teddy bear. I listened to Morah nicely when she told us that story. Teddy bear. I answered questions about the parsha. Teddy bear.

Fifteen minutes later Shimon looked up again, his smile shining from ear to ear, his face radiating pure innocence.

“Yay! My mitzvos are heavier!” he exclaimed happily as he put away the scale. His smile was contagious and I couldn’t help but beam in response.

Since we were young children we have been told by our teachers and parents what Rosh Hashanah means. It means Hashem has a big scale on which He measure your right and wrong. Do you think about what that means? Have you ever stopped and weighed your actions? Do you ever step out of your comfortable box, and take a pause while you think about the impact you make on the people around you?

Children often can teach us lessons that are more powerful than any teacher or speaker. A young child’s innocent simplicity can often shed be a ray of light on a matter that seems so dark and gray. Adults are clouded with biases while children see things in black and white. When a child looks you in the eye and sincerely and naively asks a brutally honest question, it almost knocks you off your feet, reminding you what you really should see clearly.

Wipe off your stained lens, and take another look at the world. Hashem has a scale sitting up in Shamayim, and teddy bear after teddy bear are piling up. How humbling it is to watch a five year old sit and weigh his own mitzvos and avioros. How often has your sixth grade teacher suggested a cheshbon hanefesh to you? Yet now, caught up in our jobs and lives we never stop to think how many teddy bears are on each side.

The seat you gave up on the city bus. A teddy bear on the right side. The penny you dropped in the tzeddakah box in shul. Teddy bear. The phone call from your mother that you carelessly ignored. A teddy bear on the left. The coffee you never made a bracha acharona on. Teddy bear on the left. The smile you offered the passing old lady. Teddy bear. The mincha you missed sitting in the office. Teddy bear on the left. Teddy bear. Teddy bear.

When you look back up, counting teddy bears, moving them from end to end, which side is heavier? When you take a bear off the left side, did you smile happily, knowing the right side was so much heavier?

Have you ever stopped to think that perhaps there would be so many teddy bears you’ve neglected to notice? So many teddy bears you just disregard, dismissing them with some weak rationalization.

If you stopped and started moving teddy after teddy, would you look back up, your eyes a twinkling green, and smile, happily, as you announce, “Yay my mitzvos are heavier?”

Gulliver’s Sukkah

Friday, September 28th, 2012

A Toldos Aharon child is playing with the frum equivalent of a doll house in Jerusalem. And, as you can see from the dangling power cord, his little marvel of a sukkah even has light in it at night. Perfection.

Nancy and I received delivery on our first “eternal sukkah” yesterday, and since it was too much of a schlep to take it upstairs, we decided to start building it right there and then, in the parking lot behind our building.

Following the instructions on a crumbled piece of paper, we put the thing together the wrong way so many times, until a kind neighbor—who also attends my shul—and his son, a crafty boy—couldn’t stand seeing our suffering and offered a helping hand.

It was a little like the Amish barn raising, I suppose, where all the neighbors get together and help a newlywed couple build their first barn.

We continued to do everything twice and three times – tied down the wooden slats for the roof schach, then took them down to wrap the frame first with the tarp that came with the sukkah. Then, seeing as we connected the door upside-down, we had to make adjustments there.

The sun was beating on me, I drank one of those useful little supermarket water bottles in a single gulp and move on to the next one, my entire body ached, I stood tall on a ladder where I had no business doing a balancing act – but in the end we did it, with the door right side up and the window finally not facing the wall, and the schach nicely spread on top.

For 30 years we’ve been celebrating Sukkot in the communal sukkah at 577 Grand Street, where you share the sukkah meal experience with a hundred neighbors. And while we have are some lovely memories from those meals, it will be a thrill to have our sukkot in Netanya, in our own sukkah.

The neighborhood cats have been showing a keen interest in the new structure and are trying to figure out a way to get in. We hope the tarp zippers will hold… Also, there’s a guy parked right next to our sukkah. He has the whole, near-empty parking lot, but, no – he has to park next to our little candy box picture of a sukkah.

Friday I’m going to park our own Chevy there, to block him. All I need is for some semi-conscious driver to back into my precious… No…

A gut yontif!

I Lashed a Guy

Thursday, September 27th, 2012

Here’s a Lelov chassid in Bet Shemesh, outside Jerusalem, getting 39 lashes on the eve of Yom Kippur. It’s part of the process of atoning for sins which used to be in wide practice even by non-chassidic Jews and is now not nearly as popular.

We spent Yom Kippur in the holy, kabbalistically saturated city of Tzfat, where I davened with a dear, old friend at a chassidish shul, overlooking mountains and valleys and a tiny bit of the Kinneret.

Right after Mincha, on the eve of the holiday, this nice gentleman approached me asking if it won’t be too much trouble to lash him in honor of the coming Day of Awe.

It took some persuasion, I’ll tell you. I’m not the aggressive type, I don’t recall the last time I was engaged in any incident of violent confrontation. Like every decent human being, I channel all my aggression to watching really awful action movies where other people do all the hurting for me. So it took some persuasion. But I finally consented because, hey, you have to try everything at least once.

So the guy handed me his leather belt, leaned over a bench and waited. He told me not to go too easy on him, not to fake it, hit like a man.

So I smacked him one across the back and he quickly changed his initial instructions and asked for a little less hard.

I finally found my groove and started hitting quite expertly, one on the left shoulder, one on the right shoulder, one across the back, 39 altogether. In the end the guy was happy, and I found something new I could do if the writing thing doesn’t work out.

This is Yori Yanover with another report on Jewish life today…

My Machberes

Tuesday, September 25th, 2012

Jewish History Comes Alive:
The 5773/2012 Munkatcher Sukkah

There are many magnificent sukkahs throughout the world and Boro Park has a large number of them. Most renowned are those of Munkatch and Bobov.

The Munkatcher Sukkah, on 14th Avenue between 47th and 48th Streets serves not only as a Yom Tov citadel of chassidic rapture, but as a portal to the world’s great synagogues of the past, many of which are still in daily use.

Munkatcher Rebbe dancing with Eli Isaac Vegh.

Over the past ten years, a total of 150 enlarged professional photographs have adorned the Munkatcher Sukkah and simultaneously served as major contributions to the knowledge and appreciation of Jewish history, all taking place in midst of a brimming chassidishe setting.

To enhance the Munkatcher Sukkah this year, the Rebbe, along with world-renowned synagogue photographer Joel Berkowitz, and Cantor Eli Isaac (Robert) Vegh, selected 12 exquisite 20×30 portrait photographs that date as far back as the third century CE.

The Munkatcher Sukkah will present a visual display of the following important shuls:

Ancient Shul at Kfar Bar’am, Galilee, Israel

● The Ancient Synagogue at Kfar Bar’am, Galil, Israel, constructed in the third century CE. Its elaborate structure is built of big and beautiful basalt stones. It was built in the third century CE during the Mishnaic and Talmudic period in which the Jews flourished in the Galilee. The facade of the shul, which remains almost complete, is magnificent. It has three doorways and the middle one is especially large and beautiful. These gates, which face Jerusalem, are decorated with beautiful stone carvings.

● Azik Shul, Tangier, Morocco, built in 1820.

● Beis Pinchas Shul, Isle of Djerba, one of the oldest Jewish communities in the world;

● Endigen, Switzerland, built in 1764 and rebuilt in 1854.

● The Main Synagogue of Ensonia, Italy, built in 1882.

● Etz Chaim, Larissa, Greece, built in 1800. The shul alone remains of seven that existed before the Holocaust and currently serves the community’s 350 Jews. During the German occupation, many Jews fled to nearby mountains from where they fought as partisans. The rest were deported to Auschwitz.

Synagogue Florenza, Florence, Italy

● Synagogue Florenza, built in 1874, in Florence, Italy.

● Great Synagogue, Basil, Switzerland, built in 1850 by a then Jewish population of more than 15,000.

● Ezer Shul, Isle of Djerba, built in 1500.

● The Kaddish Shul, Divinsky, Lita, built in 1873.

● Karash Shul, Bursa, Turkey, built in1645.

Inside and Outside the Florence Shul

One of the highlights this year is an interior and exterior photo of the shul in Florence, Italy, considered by many to be one of the most beautiful in the world. The Munkatcher Rebbe was especially interested in the shul, completed in 1882. Considered a masterpiece of design and detail, it is one of the very few great European synagogues that survived the Nazis.

Great Synagogue, Basil, Switzerland

During World War II, the shul was used as Nazi headquarters and command post in Italy. Hitler ordered the synagogue to wired with explosives when the Nazis had to evacuate. He stood on a nearby bridge because he wished to witness the destruction of the shul. Through Heavenly design, relay switches failed and he furiously ordered the demolition crew to go back and correct the wiring defect, but was told that Allied troops had already taken up positions and that returning to the synagogue was impossible.

The shul today continues to serve the Jewish community with services three times every day.

 

The Exhibition’s Beginnings

Eli Isaac (Robert) Vegh of Lawrence is well known in the world of chazzanus. In addition to being a real estate financier, he is the chazzan for the Yamim Noraim at the Avenue N Jewish Center in Flatbush.

Eli has developed an exceptionably warm relationship with the Munkatcher Rebbe and shares his vacation experiences and shul photographs with him. The Rebbe, who has always had an intense interest in older shuls, asks a myriad of pointed questions, with a focus on whether the shuls continue to maintain traditional Torah practices and values and what their communities are like today.

‘I Inspire Myself’

Tuesday, September 25th, 2012

We first met Shlomie (name and some details have been changed) over 20 years ago. He davens in our shul, and he and my husband share a love of photography. Over time, we got to know each other well.

Every year, Shlomie would come to our house for Purim seudah. He would wear a costume and bring his famous chocolate Oznei Haman (Hamantashen). Together with the rest of us, he would don a funny clown’s hat and we would pose for our annual family Purim photograph. He considers himself an uncle to our children, and they have adopted him as well.

Shlomie had a history of health issues. There was a point in time when he was relatively young and the doctors did not have too much hope for him to survive. As he lay in his hospital bed, he overheard the doctors discussing his helpless case. With Hashem’s blessing, he proved them wrong.

Shlomie was always full of emunah. He always wore a smile and was friendly to everyone. He loved learning Torah and had recently taken on a new chavrutah, a young yeshiva student learning in our neighborhood.

A few months ago, Shlomie was tested again. It was late Friday night when he tripped and found himself on the floor of his living room, unable to get up. As no one could hear him, he spent the night on the cold floor. He unsuccessfully tried to get up on Shabbat morning. He lay there all of Shabbat, Sunday and Monday. There was a bottle of water on the floor nearby, and he was able to reach it and drink some of it. He had no food to eat, and he could not reach his much-needed medicines.

On Tuesday, a neighbor began to wonder if Shlomie was okay. Having not seen him for a few days, she called for help. An emergency crew showed up at the apartment building, and broke open the windows. They found a very disoriented, but very alive, Shlomie lying helplessly on the floor.

The doctors could not believe he had survived this nightmare – but once again he had. We went to visit him in the hospital, and he amazed us with his optimistic attitude. He did not feel sorry for himself; rather, he told me how thankful he was that Hashem was still watching over him. He told me how he was waiting to feel stronger so he could begin several projects he had long been planning to undertake. Each one involved completing a cycle of Torah learning. Instead of looking at what he just experienced as a setback, he saw it as an opportunity for advancement.

I told him that he inspired me with his strong faith and positive outlook. He smiled, saying, “Debbie, I inspire myself.”

May Hashem continue to watch over him and give him the good health and strength he needs to fulfill his dreams of continued Torah learning. May he continue to inspire others as he inspires himself.

Combat Boots

Friday, September 21st, 2012

They called the colt Unbridled Song.

His father’s name was Unbridled, his mother’s Trolley Song. The colt loved to run, with an energy and spirit that stretched into an endless melody of wind and pounding hooves and the freedom of the open track. They hoped he would become a champion.

As a two and three year old, Unbridled Song won many of the races in his age class division. Those with a keen eye for thoroughbreds – and even those without – looked down at the racetrack at the spunky colt and said, “Now that one is going to be one to watch…”

The spring season of his third year brought with it hopes for the Kentucky Derby. The Derby is the race for three year olds, perhaps even the race of a thoroughbred’s whole career. In Mandysland Farm, excitement was high. Their colt, Unbridled Song, was registered to start in the Derby. They had a good crack at it.

A few weeks before the Derby, Unbridled Song won a prestigious race. In doing so, he also cracked his left hoof. The injury would heal, but the colt would need to wear a cast-like bar shoe to protect the leg while it healed. The question was on everyone’s minds. Would the gray colt compete in the Derby, or would he be scratched?

James Ryerson, the colt’s trainer, decided to go ahead with the Derby plans. Despite his injury, Unbridled Song was the favorite to win.

The crowd cheered as the tall gray colt came to the post on Derby Day. This was one to watch…

And they were off!

Barely two minutes later, it was all over. Unbridled Song had started strong but had soon weakened, finishing a disappointing fifth.

A picture in the news showed James Ryerson standing at the colt’s head, a friendly arm draped over his long neck. “He had a hard race there,” the reporters quoted him as saying, “and he did the best he could. He ran the best race that he could have run with that leg. Look at this boot he’s wearing. It’s like wearing combat boots. Can you imagine running a marathon wearing combat boots? He did the best race he could, and we’re proud of him.”

The reporter questioned the trainer as to his decision to take the colt to the post in this condition.

“Yeah, we could’ve pulled him out of it,” Ryerson responded affably. “We could’ve kept him in the pasture til it was totally healed. But, you know… the Derby is the Derby. Yeah, we could’ve kept him in the barn, but… what would we have been saving him for…?”

I have a medical condition that makes it hard for me to get up and do things. Sometimes it’s hard to get out of bed, or even to wake up at all. The weakness and the darkness and the apathy… they take their toll on the mind as well… sometimes I don’t even want to have the strength.

Rosh Hashanah is hard. Yom Kippur is hard. It’s hard to stand in shul all day. It’s hard to daven all day. And you know what? I don’t even want to. I feel those days coming with a kind of dread… the thought of feeling sick, exhausted, and miserable… I will not have any satisfaction at all from davening. It’s not something I can do.

And yet, whenever I think of that long, cold, early morning walk to shul, I think of Unbridled Song.

We could keep him in the barn… but what would we be keeping him for…?

I could stay in bed and conserve my strength, but what would I be conserving it for?

I could sleep late and save my energy… but what would I be saving it for?

Sometimes I tell myself that this is it, this is the time to throw myself into tefilla and beg for mercy. But sometimes I’m beyond that. There are times when I don’t care about mercy and tefilla, and all I care about is my aching body and tired mind. But then I say…

Shulamis, this is it.

These days… they are it.

What else can you say when Almighty God, King of the universe, descends to visit us in our humble earthly dwellings? “Call Him when He is close.”. He is close, right here, right now. Do I even have the choice, the option, to ignore? The mighty awe of these days screams through the blast of the shofar. Forget forgiveness. Forget judgment. Forget mercy.

Printed from: http://www.jewishpress.com/sections/magazine/teens-twenties/combat-boots/2012/09/21/

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