Flatbush & Five Towns Buzz April 24 2015

Page 1

Bringing you the Buzz on Savings & Events Volume 3, Issue 43

April 26 2015




DR DAVIDOWITZ

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One of Life’s Lessons

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A

t half-past-eight, my living room and kitchen contained the usual mess that developed – despite my best efforts – after the kids got home from school. Books and other assorted items were strewn over the table; a few stray Playmobile figures and shoes were on the floor. Mud streaks, too. I shrugged, thinking that I would just get the boys to clean it up later, when I wasn’t distracted by dinner preparations. Or, if that failed, I’d clean it up myself. A knock at the front door was followed a few seconds later by its opening and shutting, and then, the predictable outburst. “What a mess!” My husband stomped into the kitchen, where I was standing with my back to him, peeling potatoes at the sink. “Why can’t you get the boys to tidy up after themselves? Is this what a home should look like?” Rather than the sagging shoulders and defensiveness with which I usually reacted to his criticism, I laughed to myself. What he didn’t – and still doesn’t – know is that something had changed. Something in me had changed.

and threw himself energetically into his role. I knew I wasn’t the rebbetzin type, but I had my reasons for wanting to prove my devotion to him – his constant criticism of me, that started almost the day after we got married. By now I was desperate to find favor in his eyes, so I went along with his plans, determined to do my very best. But my best wasn’t good enough, apparently. “Just what is your problem?” he’d ask me, at least once a day. “Everybody else manages fine – why can’t you?” I’d shrug and look at the floor. Bad idea. Crumbs everywhere, it seemed, and dirt

I found that constantly needing to be “on” completely drained me, not to mention the effect that had on my kids. Eytan, on the other hand, felt in his element. The domineering shul board bothered him, but all the attention and kavod made up for that. As he strode onward, he became increasingly impatient with the depressed, overwhelmed wife limping along behind him. “He’s right – I did promise him,” I admitted to one of my close friends during a rare long-distance phone call – rebbetzins can’t really have any close confidantes in the community, yet another painful part of

“What is your problem?” he’d ask me, at least once a day. “Everybody else manages. Why can’t you?” the job. “And in any case, isn’t that what we were always told – you know – a good wife is one who does her husband’s will? I’m trying,” I sighed, “but it’s killing me…” It didn’t get any easier, and in the end, circumstances intervened and rescued me: I came down with a bad case of flu that developed into severe muscle stiffness, and had to go to my parents’ home to recuperate, taking the children with me. Impatient with my incompetence and seizing on the excuse of my absence, the synagogue board then fired my husband. I was relieved, but felt like a failure at the same time. We moved to another city, where he went back to kollel and took an evening job in kiruv that gave him an outlet for his boundless energy and effervescence. As for me, I reclaimed my home as my own and reveled in the quiet and privacy. But underneath it all was the lingering feeling

Eytan and I got married almost twenty years ago. We started out as an idealistic kollel couple, both baalei teshuvah and both determined to do things “right.” For him, that meant going back out there, into the secular world, and returning with the fruits of his labor – young people he’d inspired to embrace their heritage. His natural charm and charisma were clearly assets in that line of work, and I was determined to do everything possible to support him. It didn’t take long before the problems started to surface. For one, my husband was convinced that the best thing for him was to be a community rav. He had no difficulty finding a kehillah willing to take him on,

tracked through the living room, as usual. Tracked through by all the guests my husband wanted – that I, too, wanted, or at least, part of me still wanted. The other part deflated yet another inch or two every time the doorbell rang and I knew that I’d have to put on my smiley, welcoming face, harden myself against their criticisms of how my young children were behaving, and pretend once more to be someone I wasn’t. I was shy and not terribly energetic, and I hadn’t realized it would be such a problem. I hadn’t had enough foresight to realize that a rebbetzin was a public person who was supposed to be imbued with selfconfidence and a ready answer to every question – not to mention abundant cups of tea and home-baked cookies. Sure, I could dispense with the home-baked, and I could fake a smile as well as the next person, but

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that I’d let my husband down. Because of me, he hadn’t been able to actualize his potential. Sure, I knew his constant attacks had made it very hard for me. But I still thought that maybe if I’d somehow succeeded in what I was sure was my tafkid, he’d have succeeded in his. Now, because of me, he wasn’t achieving all he was capable of, and who knows how many lost souls would remain lost because I hadn’t felt up to the task? If I’d felt lacking in selfconfidence before, now I was even more tortured by self-doubt and recrimination. It didn’t help that Eytan never could acknowledge that I had really tried, no matter how many examples I gave him. He kept blaming me for losing his position. Arguments – about anything under the sun – were frequent; he criticized me almost daily on the way I ran the house,

brought up the children, managed the finances… I tried to keep my mouth shut (although sometimes I did yell back), blaming myself for his dissatisfaction with me, certain that if I had only been the type of wife he wanted, things would have turned out so much better. When my parents visited, I managed to put on a brave face to cover up the fact that I did not have the idyllic marriage I wanted them to think a Torah life brings. But the truth was so far from the life I’d imagined for myself that I had to grit my teeth hard and set my thoughts to other things to forget my depressing reality. My husband settled into a routine of leaving early in the morning and coming home late at night, usually when I had already gone to bed. We met for brief moments during the week, and on Shabbos he used all the available time to catch up on lost sleep – when he wasn’t having a temper tantrum. I raised the kids almost as a single mother, mourning the loss of my dream – the dream of a husband who would have cared for me and appreciated my efforts. But the truth was, I wasn’t just miserable – I was also angry. Self-pity and guilt were my way of expressing my protest at having been handed this lot in life. I had sacrificed so much to become frum, to try to be a good wife, to raise my children the best way I knew – and despite it all, nothing was turning out right. How many times had I cried for shalom bayis while

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lighting Shabbos candles? How many Tehillim had I said in desperation? How many “experts” had I consulted? Why was Hashem punishing me like this? And so time passed, emotions gradually freezing into stone as my tefillos became rote at best, non-existent at worst. Not only did my husband not love me, Hashem apparently didn’t like me much, either. My marriage became an uneasy partnership where each one of us operated on a parallel track, only crossing paths through bitter exchanges. At various points along the way I tried therapy, even managing to drag my husband along on occasion. Maybe I could somehow get over my incompetence and become the wife my husband wanted, the one I was sure he needed? It didn’t happen. Unfortunately, many of the admittedly kind and well-meaning rabbis and rebbetzins I consulted only added to my feelings of guilt, prodding me to try harder to meet my husband’s expectations. Therapists were only mildly helpful. And even when I finally found a different type of rebbetzin, one who tried to make me search out my own strengths and direction in life and not be so desperate for my husband’s approval, I felt it was too late. I was already too beaten down, too despairing in my ability to achieve anything to take her suggestions seriously. One thing did give me some chizuk: I decided to begin learning again, to really make an effort to work on my middos and open a sefer every day. I found a wellspring of encouragement in the commentaries on the weekly parashah, and my learning gave

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me a feeling of accomplishment that I had never felt before. But it was one particular sefer that really brought me to a turning point. I began to read The Garden of Emuna by Harav Shalom Arush, and I discovered that the self-pity that I had been indulging in was bringing me to a terrible place in my avodas Hashem and actually increasing my hardship. Slowly but surely, I began to turn my hashkafah around, from a place of great anger and frustration, to tentatively admitting that maybe my situation was somehow tailor-made for me – although I was still very far from understanding how, or seeing the good in it. Rather, I was becoming more open to seeing Hashem’s Hand in my life, and as I began to speak to Him, in my own words, I realized that He was truly with me at all times. Even when I felt surrounded by difficulties without anyone to help me, I could simply open my mouth and speak to Him, and feel that He was listening – and I finally began to sense that He loved me. On the surface, nothing had really changed. My husband was still resentful and embittered, one of my children was still extremely problematic (although the others were doing well), and my life was still far from what I had planned it to be. And yet, slowly, little gleams of light penetrated the gloom and I began to focus on the good even though I still felt that the bad outweighed it. Then, I had a dream – or rather, two. They were both so vivid, so real. In the first dream, I was walking along a street dressed in designer clothing, together

with a man I knew was my husband – although it was not my husband of real life. To strangers he emanated a hard, wary persona, but he pampered me in much the same way as a man might take very good care of his car, and I perceived it as love and felt very comfortable with him. We entered a restaurant – the only lit place on the street. Outside everything was deserted, but here the staff was bustling to get everything ready for us. We were the only patrons there. We sat down, and started to order. When the waitress came to serve

and not someone to be crossed. Realizing I was powerless to change the plight of the staff, I pushed any sympathy I felt for them to the back of my mind and went back to enjoying my evening out, even making the waitresses go back and forth many times to cater to my whims. This dream jolted me quite a bit when I awoke. I could recall it clearly in all its details. I felt terrible that I’d behaved that way – when? Had I? Would I really have done that? It felt more like a memory than a dream. But it wasn’t until I had the second

Self-pity and guilt were my way of expressing my protest at having been handed this lot in life the food, I noticed that she looked sad and resentful. Taking care that my husband wouldn’t hear, I approached her when she went to the cash register and asked her what was wrong. She replied that it was the eve of their cherished December holiday, and that she’d really wanted to be home with her family, celebrating, but because my husband was the mobster who owned the restaurant, the staff had to come in specially to serve us. I felt very bad for her, but there was really nothing I could do. Although my husband treated me well, I knew he was a dangerous man,

dream that I really took it seriously. This time, the setting was different, but again I was walking along a street in a strange city with my “husband” – again, not my husband of real life. We were wearing clothing that was the height of fashion about forty years ago. It was a bright and sunny day, and I was happy – in fact, elated. We were deeply, blissfully in love. It was a feeling most people only fantasize about – I knew I was lucky to have this relationship. We were on our way to join his powerful family and associates. We


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approached a building, and as we entered, I glanced up at the sign above the entrance. My heart almost stopped. At that moment, my present self realized that this man’s relatives weren’t just powerful – they were also dangerous. This was a hotel where notorious criminals were known to meet and plan their evil machinations. This was the place where plots were hatched that netted innocent people and exploited the naïve for financial gain. My husband was involved in all of that – which meant that I

sure. I was convinced that in a past lifetime, I had indeed been the wife of an elitist, but that because of my personal contentment, I had closed my eyes to his associations, regardless of the consequences. Somehow, I also knew that I could have influenced him to leave his evil way of life – but instead I’d chosen not to rock the boat, remaining content and complacent in my own little bubble. Then, I recalled the other dream, and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

Not only did my husband not love me, Hashem apparently didn’t like me much, either was also associated with it! The dream “me” was vaguely aware of all this, but I was so happily immersed in our relationship that I didn’t care. With that awareness, my eyes snapped open and I sat up in bed. I could still feel the blissful glow of being truly in love, and being truly loved back – and at the same time, I could still feel the horror of realizing what I’d been a part of. Yes, it had not been a dream, but a fragment of a memory – of that I was

Then, too, I had been an accomplice to callous behavior. Just because there was nothing I could do to change the situation didn’t mean that I had to exploit it. I could have sat quietly in the restaurant and simply eaten whatever they happened to serve me. I shuddered as I saw how my naturally thoughtful nature had so easily been corrupted when personal interest got in the way of empathy and consideration. I had not been a completely thoughtless

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person – I had noticed the waitress’s distress – but I behaved self-centeredly, and therefore, I was guilty. Suddenly, everything became clear. My mind had been slowly opening to the truth of Hashem’s intimate involvement in my life, and now He had sent me a powerful revelation to answer some of my questions. In past lives, I had been given indulgent husbands – even the soul mate of my dreams – and it caused me to be horribly insensitive to others’ pain, both on a personal level and on a wider scale. I had been wholeheartedly committed to those relationships, but it had been a selfish commitment. Instead of seeing marriage as an opportunity to help my husband grow, trying to impart some of my own sensitivity and compassion to him, I had preferred to be more of an adored pet, basking in his attention and admiration. It had been very bad for him, and equally bad for me. And that was why, before being born into my current life time, my soul had begged Hashem to keep me away from another, similar challenge. Terrified that if I was given another loving, indulgent husband, I would be doomed yet again to failure, I insisted on being given someone very different. I hadn’t consciously chosen a cold, critical husband – it was only after we married that this aspect of his character emerged – but now I knew that I hadn’t been cheated or deceived; things had to be this way.

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I needed to have a husband who constantly frustrated my attempts to draw closer to him, someone whose expectations I couldn’t meet. No matter how hard I tried, he would never be satisfied – because that was what I needed. My soul would flourish, once I acknowledged that this was exactly the type of relationship I must have, in order to build myself up as an independent individual and choose the right path for myself – hopefully also influencing my husband and children along the way. Suddenly, the words of the therapist resounded in my ears with clarity and I could finally internalize her message. I needed to stop trying to meld myself into my husband, going along with whatever he decided, and reclaim my own identity. As I pondered these thoughts further, I realized there were other parallels to the story. Baruch Hashem, my husband in this lifetime is far from being a wicked person – he has many fine qualities and is often warm and humorous, despite the difficulties we have experienced. And yet, when I took a more objective look at our lives, I realized that being a community rav had actually accentuated the negative aspects of his character. Being in a position of authority had made him manic in the pursuit of kavod, and since he saw me as an obstacle to his goals, he had become critical to the point of abusive. Now, however, that he was working in

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kiruv only informally, he was far more balanced and actually even more effective than before. I don’t think he recognized this himself, but I now realized that for me, being a “good wife” didn’t mean blindly following his lead. I wasn’t cut out to be the rebbetzin of his dreams, and that was actually best for both of us. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all my fault? From then onward, the pain and resentment I felt at my lot in life began to dim, and with time, almost disappeared. In my mind, I could almost conjure up that dream-like feeling of being in a blissful relationship, and I realized that Hashem was actually giving me a taste of it in this lifetime, too. I no longer felt deprived; instead, I felt profoundly grateful, that He was giving me another chance to get it truly “right” and succeed where I’d failed in the past. Incredibly, after I gained this awareness, my husband’s behavior started to improve. Now that I wasn’t bending over backwards to please him, his hostility was no longer needed to keep us from becoming too enmeshed. My journey is not that of others. Some women may really be here to learn to submit to their husbands and conquer their egos. Others may need to get divorced. But clearly I was meant to have what

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superficially looks like a lessthan ideal marriage, where I can’t blithely follow along with what my husband wants. Instead I have to find my own direction, hopefully managing to guide him along with me, without sacrificing my integrity when it conflicts with a desire for a harmonious life. That evening, as I stood there with the potato peeler in hand and soft laughter in my voice, I knew something had shifted. My husband had stalked out of the kitchen, but he returned a few moments later. Looking me in the eye, he said, “I’m sorry. I know you’re doing your best.” I knew it, too.

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The Young Woman Who Saved an Airplane

H

ow far would you go to stand up for what you thought was right? Could you withstand yelling, threats and hostility? Would you be able to shrug off mockery and ridicule – or even disobey direct orders – and keep insisting that you were right? That was the challenge facing Mussie Weinfeld on a recent flight from Tel Aviv to New York, as she prepared to return home after spending a special Passover in Israel. As the 22-year old teacher from Crown Heights, Brooklyn, settled in her window seat on a TransAero flight scheduled to leave Israel’s Ben Gurion airport late Saturday night, April 11, 2015, and fly to New York via Moscow, she thought something seemed amiss. “There was a very loud and strange noise on my side of the plane. I probably was extra scared because of what’s going on recently with (crashes of) airplanes and I felt really uncomfortable with it,” Mussie recalls. She

by Yvette Alt Miller also thought something didn’t look right with the plane’s wing. Concerned, Mussie shared her observations with passengers sitting near her, but they “laughed it off and said it was just noises from the engines,” Mussie’s father, Rabbi Kalman Weinfeld, recalled after speaking with his daughter. At that point, the plane started taxiing towards the runway. “When the plane actually started moving I got even more scared,” Mussie recalls, “and I said I have to do something.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and stood up. As her father reported, “The flight attendants, who themselves were already seated and buckled in, instructed her to return to her seat. When she told them her concerns about the plane they too laughed at her. She insisted that she will not fly on the plane if they didn’t check it out.” The flight attendants threatened the young woman, yelling at her to return to her seat, but Mussie refused.

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least that we didn’t take off with that plane,” she said simply. How many of us would have been able to stand up to such enormous social pressure and ridicule? By insisting that her concerns be checked out, Mussie Weinfeld embodied Hillel’s maxim: “In a place where there are no leaders, strive to be a leader” (Ethics of the Fathers, 2:6). We all have the responsibility to take a stand and do what’s right, to go against the grain and make our voices heard, even in the face of mockery and ridicule. Whether or not TransAero was aware of the damage, as they claim, there is no question that Mussie Weinfeld demonstrated remarkable tenacity in refusing to go back to her seat, disobeying the flight attendants’ orders and not trusting those who should seemingly know better than her.

“I said, ‘I don’t want to sit down – I want you to go do something about it.’ Then when I got back to my seat everyone took off their seat belts. Nobody wanted to take off now.” The airplane returned to the gate, for – airline officials announced – a 45-minute safety check. Nearly two hours later, however, it became clear the plane was unsafe to fly, and passengers were asked to return to the airport the following day to fly home on a different aircraft. Turns out Mussie was right; there was indeed a problem with the aircraft’s wing. The synchronism slats on the wings’ edges which allow for proper movement of airplane wings were broken. TransAero later insisted that they were in fact in the process of detecting the problem right before takeoff. Realizing that the young teacher in their midst had saved them all from a potential tragedy, many of the travelers, who just hours before had mocked and yelled at Mussie, came over “and profusely

thanked her for saving their lives,” her father explained. Mussie herself was modest about her role. “Everyone was thankful at

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Everyone told her to sit down, but Mussie Weinfeld insisted something was wrong with the plane.

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by Rabbi Shraga Simmons

Make the Omer Count Instead of counting “down” toward the big day, we count “up” from one to 50. Why?

T

he Jewish people left Egypt on Passover, and 50 days later (on the holiday of Shavuot) received the Torah at Mount Sinai. Today, in revisiting that Sinai experience, we observe a special mitzvah called “Counting the Omer,” where we actually count aloud each of these days, beginning on the second night of Passover. (The Omer was a special offering brought to the Holy Temple during this season.) Counting in anticipation of an exciting event is quite understandable. At one time or another, we’ve all probably said something like, “Grandma’s coming to visit in a week and a half,” or “Only 17 more days til my birthday!” But there’s one subtle difference: The usual method is to count down toward the big day, whereas in the case of the Omer, we count up from one to 50. Why the difference?

Long-Term Impact To understand, we first need to answer a more basic question: Why did God wait 50 days after the Jews left Egypt before giving the Torah? Why didn’t He simply give it to them

in Egypt, or immediately after their departure? The answer is that the Jews were not yet spiritually equipped to receive the Torah. For over 200 years, they had been living in an Egyptian society known to be the world center for immorality and vice. Even without direct Jewish participation, these influences nonetheless permeated the air and seeped into their consciousness. The primary book of Kabbalah, “The Zohar,” reports that in Egypt the Jews had slipped to the 49th level of spiritual impurity. (50 is the very lowest.) God could not give the Torah at this point. The Jews needed to grow up first, or else they would have squandered the opportunity. The high-impact adventure of the Exodus 10 miraculous plagues and the splitting of the Red Sea launched the Jews into physical freedom. Yet the miracles of Egypt were only a jumpstart to the spiritual possibilities that lay ahead. A one-time experience, as powerful as it is, does not permanently change anyone’s emotional attitude. That is only possible through practice and adjustment over time. It reminds me of a scene from the

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film “Trading Places.” Eddie Murphy has gone from beggar to wealth in a few hours, and the first thing he does upon entering his own luxury apartment is to steal things! His physical body had been transported to opulence, but emotionally he was left behind. You can take the Jew out of Egypt, but you can’t take Egypt out of the Jew. I’ve witnessed a similar phenomenon at the Discovery Seminar, a dramatic presentation of the rational basis for Jewish belief. Many people leave the seminar with the astounding conviction that God exists and that He gave the Torah to the Jewish people at Mount Sinai. Yet without proper follow-up, the impact lasts but a few days. Real change occurs only through steady day-today growth and a commitment to a consistent program of contemplation and study. Now we can understand why the 50 days of the Omer is counted in a forward progression. We begin the process at the 49th level of spiritual impurity, and every day we peel away another layer of gunk, to reveal the original, pure soul we each possess. That’s why every step both reduces

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the negative number and increases the positive number the single step of peeling away a layer automatically reveals the corresponding positive side.

A Time of Growth Classic Talmudic commentators say that the days of counting the Omer are the most auspicious for acquiring these spiritual levels. This necessity for self-growth is stressed in the Torah’s description of Abraham: “Abraham was old, he came with his days” (Genesis 24:1). “He came with his days” teaches us that Abraham used each of his days to the fullest extent. At the end of his life, he came to old age “with all his days” in hand. No day was without its requisite growth. When it comes to children, we take for granted that growth and development is part of childhood. You don’t expect a 10-year-old to act the same way he did at age five. But somehow as adults, we lose that impulse to continue growing. Yet should a 30-year-old act as he did at age 25? As adults, we could be using those five years in a very powerful way. The formula for staying young is to continue growing. Losing that capacity at any age is tragic. Any time we’re not growing and changing, we’re not living. We’re just existing.

One Step at a Time

a time. By setting small, incremental goals, we will be encouraged by the periodic success. To make the plan foolproof, make your initial goal something you know you can reach. Tasting success will bolster your confidence and determination, and you can use this energy to strive for higher goals. Remember, the longest journey begins with just one step. And what goes in slow, will remain. The story is told of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter (19th century Europe) who took upon himself to lead an entire city back to Torah observance. He set up a weekly class and began by telling them, “If you have to work on Shabbat, at least try to minimize the violation.” In today’s lexicon, that would mean walking instead of driving, or setting your TV on a timer. With this approach, Rabbi Salanter was able over a few years to turn the community around to full Shabbat observance one step at a time. Take pleasure in the times you achieved your goal, and use that as a motivation to improve further. Don’t castigate yourself if you do not always succeed. No human being is perfect. The Kabbalists say that spiritual growth is “two steps forward and one step back.” We will inevitably have setbacks. What’s important is that we’re heading in the right direction. King Solomon tells us in Proverbs (24:16): “The Tzaddik falls seven times and gets up.” The definition of a Tzaddik is not someone who never makes a mistake, but rather someone who, although he may fail, does not give up. He tries again and does not despair!

yourself. As we climb the ladder, it’s more important which direction we’re headed than which rung we’re on. Nowhere in the entire Torah is the date of Shavuot mentioned. It merely takes place at the end of 50 days ― because the key is to get there at your own pace, following these steps. To maintain growth, a good rule of thumb is to always be a bit uncomfortable. You don’t want to climb a ladder and get stuck between rungs! It also helps to reinforce your goals by writing them down. Writing helps a person to concentrate and clarify his thoughts. A business person would surely write out goals and keep an accurate tally of their progress. In Judaism, this is called Cheshbon ― a spiritual accounting. Keep a notebook for writing down these daily goals, and make a chart to track your progress. Place this in a conspicuous place like in your daytimer or on the refrigerator, and then review your goals by reading them aloud. The Torah, in describing the Omer, says, “count for you” (Leviticus 23:15) because each person has to do this for himself, speaking it aloud. Strategize! As with anything, the key is consistency. Choose a convenient time and commit to working on this at least 15 minutes every day. Don’t postpone learning for “afterwards,” at which time it becomes late and you may be too tired. Say to yourself that you are going to dedicate 15 minutes and nothing is going to stop you. Close your door, unplug your phone, and log offline. If you need a daily reminder, try the buddy system. Ideally, at the end of the Omer process, we will have experienced a journey of self-improvement and be ready to receive the Torah. The holiday we’re working toward is called “Shavuot,” which means “weeks.” The name itself tells us that without the weeks of preparation beforehand, there is no Shavuot. So don’t just count the Omer make the Omer count

A major impediment to growth is the feeling of being overwhelmed by the magnitude of the task. But Judaism is not all-or-nothing. If I cannot have 1,000 gold coins, does that mean I should not strive to have even one?! The biggest reason people fail is that they have set a goal which is too lofty and unattainable. We inevitably fall short and get discouraged. In Jacob’s famous dream, God shows him a vision of a ladder reaching toward heaven. Spiritual growth, like climbing a ladder, must be one step at

One important principle to remember is that you are not competing with anyone but yourself. Secular society has accustomed us to compete against others whether in business or on the tennis court. Of course, healthy competition is good. But life is not a race to beat the other guy; life is only a race to conquer

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Spiritual Accounting

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STORY

A Chance to Live By Boruch Schwartz

A

fter undergoing a series of simple tests, she made an appointment with Professor Rottman. Her general practitioner was a very thorough woman who refused to forego Ruthie’s annual checkup, and insisted on this followup procedure. Its results had revealed some suspicious findings, which proved that the doctor’s insistence on the test had indeed been necessary. In order to support or to refute the results, Ruthie was sent for more tests in the hospital, after which she found herself seated opposite the solemn Rottman. His words, along with his expression, did not leave Ruthie with much hope. Dr. Rottman lowered his eyes. In a broken voice, he told Ruthie that she was battling a terminal illness. He explained at length what had occurred in her body, and spoke about the possibility of an operation. He himself didn’t pin much hope on its success, though. There was absolutely no optimism in his voice. Ruthie was in the room physically. But her body was hollow. Her soul seemed to have already flown out the window. The doctor’s words coasted in the void, skipping over her ears. No explanations could have helped when the doctor himself had despaired. Three red lights flickered in her mind when he spoke. On each respective light the names Menachem, Tammy and Deena glimmered — names which were her entire world, names of those who were destined to

live without her. She wondered how that world would look after she had departed it. The red lights flickered and her head swam with warning sirens. She shook her head, but the sirens continued to wail even more insistently.

Over and over again she marveled over Ruthie’s inner spiritual beauty, which had surfaced during her final days. The doctor said she wouldn’t live more than three months, but his eyes showed that even this prognosis had been an overly generous allotment. Ruthie knew that from that moment on, she was living on borrowed time. She knew that she had an important role in the play called life, and that the play had to go on. Being a thorough person, Ruthie took out a pen. She aired the days of

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her youth on the screen of her mind. Then, after much mental effort to dig into her past, she unearthed two ugly stains. These blots were represented by two names: Chava Ettinger, her classmate, and Menucha Tzeiger, her teacher. Would three months suffice for her to rectify the terrible injustices she had done to them? Ruthie located Chava Ettinger with relative ease. Chava still lived with her parents. She was the only one in the class who hadn’t married yet — and Ruthie knew why. She was to blame. Without bad intentions, and in the name of total honesty, Ruthie had ruined all of Chava’s shidduchim. Ruthie never forgot the arguments Chava fomented in class. She was tough. She was confrontational and demanding. During their school years, Chava was always against everything and against everyone. And so, when people asked information about her friend, Ruthie would describe Chava’s personality without softening the rough edges. She did this each time someone called her about Chava. But it was the truth! That’s why Chava was still at home, growing older with her parents. But now, when Ruthie examined her past behavior, she grew panicky. With her very own words, she had doomed Chava to be an unwanted old maid. All she had to do was to erase two stains. While the men were filling the dark streets on their way to Selichos, a brilliant idea hit her. Her brother, Zevik! Why hadn’t she thought of that

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An open letter to the family of an upcoming simcha:

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My name is David Friedman from Friedman’s Photography. I know that the fact above sounds shocking, but after speaking to thousands of people who have had pictures made at their simchas and seeing samples of thousands of simcha photos, I have seen that most simchas miss important pictures. We all know that missing pictures can wreak havoc in Shulem Bayis and ruin the relationship with family members of whom important pictures weren’t taken and hope that it does not happen to us. After doing extensive research to find out why such important pictures were missing in such a large percentage of weddings I have found that the main reason was that: Nobody took the time to find out what pictures were important to you until after the simcha when it was already too late, and just like everything in life no picture can be taken for granted if it was not discussed. Friedman’s Photography, which is the studio I founded Bezras Hashem, has been around doing quality photography since 1988. We have the expertise and knowledge which has been built up by serving the community for close to 30 years, and with this background I personally guarantee that any picture that you dream of will be taken at your simcha. We have used our experience to put together a formula to make sure that every person that hires us will receive 100% full coverage of all their dream pictures at any simcha and to offer our 100% Full coverage guarantee.

100% Full coverage guarantee We guarantee that any picture that you dream of will be taken at the simcha

How does it work? After you book Friedman’s photography for your simcha you will need to schedule our unique “Discuss Your Dreams” pre simcha consultation. We recommend that anyone you want to satisfy with pictures of your simcha should be at the consultation including: Chosen, Kallah, both sets of parents, or bar mitzvah boy & any sibling, grandparent, aunt etc. that you would want to satisfy with the pictures. At the “Discuss Your Dreams” consultation, you will meet with a photography expert- an expert in what is available in photography- where the photography expert will explain to you what is available based on the plan you chose and what is the most popular while listening to you with the goal of helping you to clarify your dreams, needs, and wants. The photography expert will help you clearly state what you want and that will save you a lot of headaches trying to figure it on your own. You will also be spared the aggravation of not getting the pictures that were important to you when the simcha is over.

At the simcha! All your dream photographs will be taken iy”h.

Call right away 718-43-PHOTO (718-437-4686) to book your simcha photography with full coverage. Thank You for your time,

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STORY before? Zevik was a quiet young man — too quiet, and this character trait overcast his talents. Zevik was nearly thirty-three and hadn’t yet found his mate. On dates, he remained silent most of the time and didn’t make much of an impression on the young ladies he met. In the morning Ruthie called her mother, and told her about Chava Ettinger, stressing Chava’s good qualities. In a brief, garbled sentence, she mentioned Chava’s vivacious personality, with all its ramifications. “But that’s exactly what our Zevik needs!” Ruthie’s mother said excitedly. The idea began to take shape. The plate was broken on erev Rosh Hashanah. Ruthie thanked Hashem for having let her participate in that happy event. A month had passed in the interim, and she only had sixty days to live. Ruthie was delighted to see her brother Zevik so happy. After the vort, when the excitement had died down, Ruthie felt relieved. One ugly stain had been eradicated. Now she approached the task of eliminating the second. Menucha Tzeiger had taught secular subjects in school. At that time Ruthie was in eighth grade and was the head of the student council. In that capacity, she volunteered to send a letter to the supervisor, citing the complaints of many students against Menucha: She doesn’t explain the lessons clearly. She comes late to

class. She wastes a lot of time in empty chatter and, worst of all, she doesn’t prepare the material properly. Of course the letter caused a storm and the supervisory board began to investigate the issue. At the end of the year, when the school had to cut down on staff, Menucha Tzeiger was among the teachers who were let go. Ruthie found out only after her dismissal that Menucha was the sole breadwinner in the family. Ruthie had cut off Menucha’s livelihood. Now Ruthie boldly decided that despite her debilitating disease, she would go all the way to Switzerland, where her former teacher lived, to beg Menucha’s forgiveness. A telephone call would not suffice. She didn’t have difficulty locating Menucha Tzeiger’s address in Lugano. Menucha was stunned to see her. When she was face-to-face with her former teacher the dam burst and, in a voice which she didn’t recognize as her own, Ruthie said: “I have only a short while left on earth, and every passing day draws me nearer to my end. I won’t be able to close my eyes forever until I hear you say `mochul loch’ — you are forgiven.” Menucha was very touched by Ruthie’s effort to locate her. She was overwhelmed by the fact that a woman who had already been branded as terminally ill had taken the pains to come all the way to Switzerland to beg forgiveness. She couldn’t harden

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her heart. The scene that took place in Menucha’s living room was heartrending and dramatic. When life is on the balance all barriers collapse, all anger is erased, all injustices are forgiven. They had a heart-to-heart talk that lasted for two hours, after which Ruthie had to return to Eretz Yisroel. With swollen, red eyes, the two parted like longtime friends whose relationship extended way beyond that of teacher and student. Menucha told her that she would help her as best as she could, and promised to organize a special fund for Menachem when her little boy was alone. “My financial situation has improved a lot,” she promised Ruthie. Spontaneously, Menucha accompanied Ruthie to the airport and found it difficult to part with her former student. She pitied her deeply and stood beside her on the long line. Over and over again she marveled over Ruthie’s inner spiritual beauty, which had surfaced during her final days. At last, Ruthie’s turn to board the plane arrived, and an unavoidable parting accompanied by deep pain took place — a parting which they both knew would be forever. The alarm clock rang without mercy. Ruthie jumped up quickly because she had an appointment with Dr. Rottman that afternoon. She persisted in her silence, her mind refusing to absorb the fact that it had all been a dream. There was no biopsy. No death sentence. No time limit on earth. It was too good to be true. She was healthy! In the office, Ruthie sat across from the eminent professional. “Dr. Rottman, you changed my entire life.” The doctor looked startled, but he recovered quickly. Ruthie had learned how to die. Now she would need to relearn how to live.

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‫טיש יומא דהילולא של הרה"ק בעל דברי חיים מצאנז זי"ע‬ ‫אצל נכדו האדמו"ר מצאנז קלויזענבורג‬

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30 Minutes Delectable

Meals in Quick dinners for today’s fast paced world. GITTA BIXENSPANNER

We are in back to school, back to work mode there is so much to do and take care of. No time for elaborate meals. Here are recipes that help us prepare dinner in 30 minutes. For quick dinners you need a well-stocked pantry and a variety of frozen vegetables in the freezer. Here are some simple recipes that are nourishing and easy to prepare and they can go from pantry to table in 30 minutes.

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Fast and Tasty Tomato Soup Fast and Tasty Tomato Soup Tomato soup is one of the easiest to put on the table really fast. Making your own tomato soup is nearly as easy as opening up a can. Most appreciate this warming soup, as it is very light and filling. 48 oz. can tomato juice (6 cups) 4 oz can flavored tomato sauce (1/2 cup) 2 Tbs oil 2 Tbs flour Salt and pepper to taste 2 Tbs sugar or to taste ¼ tsp baking soda Sprigs of celery tops for garnish

In a large pot warm up the oil and mix in the flour to make a roux (which will help thicken the soup) mixing until blended. Pour in the tomato juice and flavored tomato sauce; mix with the flour until combined. Bring to a boil on medium high heat, then lower the flame and simmer for 10-15 minutes. Toss in the baking soda to cut the tomatoes’ acidity. Serve immediately in pretty bowls and garnish with celery leaves. Enjoy a really mild and creamy tomato soup. To make soup more complete feel free to add rice when bringing soup to a boil. Preparation 5 minutes Serves 8-10

Best Bean & Greens Stew This recipe has a winning combination of rich and fiber full good for you vegetables and nourishing beans. It is a complete meal suitable for the coming fall season. 1 medium onion, chopped 2 cloves garlic, chopped 2 Tbs oil 2 (15 ounces each) cans navy beans 1 tsp rosemary (optional) 2 cups water 4 cups frozen spinach defrosted 6 hot dogs (beef or Tofu) Salt & pepper to taste 1 tsp Hungarian paprika 1 tsp Turmeric (optional) In a large pot heat oil to medium high heat. Sauté onions and garlic until fragrant about 10 minutes Stir in spinach and cook until thoroughly warmed about five minutes. Add hot dogs, beans and spices, stir until all ingredients are thoroughly warmed through. Allow to cook for 10 minutes and serve over a bed of rice. Garnish with some mustard for a spunky taste. Preparation 10 minutes Cooking time 20 minutes Serves 6

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Easy Chicken and Rice Bake 1 onion 1 1/2 cups of rice 3 cups of water 2 tsp salt 1 chicken quartered or 6-8 drumsticks 1/2 tsp paprika 1/2 tsp garlic powder Slice onion into rings, place in 9x13 pan, or large frying pan add rice, water and salt. Place chicken on top of mixture, and season with paprika and garlic powder. Bake covered at 350, for one and half hours. Enjoy.

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Vegetable Frittata (Dairy) Vegetable Frittata (Dairy)When all else fails eggs are a great way to put supper on the table real fast. A super source of protein and other nutrients make sure to have fresh eggs in your refrigerator. Whenever this dish is served the children are very happy for most of them almost prefer dairy to meat meals. Add a hearty soup for a complete meal 1 Tbs olive oil 1 medium chopped onion 2 zucchini diced 1 cup mushrooms sliced 1 red pepper diced 8 eggs

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½ cup shredded cheese Scallions for garnish (optional) Sauté diced onion in olive oil (use an oven-safe pan) then add all diced vegetables. Whisk 6 whole eggs, 2 egg whites, ½ cup Parmesan cheese, salt and pepper. Pour over vegetables; cook on the stove until eggs are almost set, then place under the broiler for 3-5 minutes so the frittata puffs and browns slightly. Garnish with strips of scallions for color. Serve with a whole wheat bagel. Preparation 10 minutes Serves 4

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Cheesy Ricotta Penne Pasta (Dairy) This pasta is fast and fresh, with the ricotta melting into the hot pasta and coating it like a creamy sauce. The pine nuts give it crunch, while the herbs lend a fresh, scented flavor. 3 ½ cups dried penne or other pasta 6 Tbs extra virgin olive oil 1 cup pine nuts 2 cups chopped frozen spinach 2 Tbs parsley flakes 2 Tbs chopped fresh or dried basil 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons ricotta cheese or any favorite cheese. 1/2 cup finely grated parmesan Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste Bring a large saucepan of water to boil, add plenty of

salt and return to boil. Cook the pasta of your choice according to the package instructions. Meanwhile, heat the oil in a frying pan, add the pine nuts and fry gently until golden. Set aside. Drain the cooked pasta, reserving 4 tablespoons of the cooking liquid and return both to the pan. Add the pine nuts and their oil, the herbs, ricotta or your favorite cheese, half the Parmesan and pepper to taste. Stir until evenly coated. Divide the pasta between warmed serving bowls and serve immediately, topped by the remaining Parmesan. Preparation 10 minutes Serves 4-6.

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Teriyaki Salmon with Avocado and Grapefruit Salad 4 salmon fillets 1 tsp mayonnaise 1 cup Teriyaki sauce 1 Tbs grapefruit juice 1 Tbs orange juice 1 Tbs lemon juice 1 Tbs yogurt 1 clove garlic, minced 1 head Bibb lettuce ½ English cucumber, thinly sliced 1 grapefruit, segmented ½ avocado, sliced

Broil for 6 minutes on each side. Meanwhile peel grapefruit and segment. Mix together citrus juices, yogurt, garlic and salt & pepper. To assemble tear lettuce in bite size pieces, slice cucumber, grapefruit and avocado. Drizzle with citrus dressing. Serve this salad next to the teriyaki salmon fillets.

Mix mayonnaise with Teriyaki sauce in a small bowl. Dip fish fillets in the sauce and place in a baking dish.

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Preparation 15 minutes Cooking time 12 minutes Serves 4

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