Project Coordinator: Gitty Edelstein

For an all too brief moment, the world quieted as the sky darkened with the magnificent heavenly display of three celestial bodies in perfect alignment. Few experiences can compare to watching  nature shift as an eclipse enters its totality, and the resulting awe is a strong unifier in a sharply divided world. 
Mishpacha shares impressions, sights, and scenes from the ground, when for a few brief minutes along the path of the eclipse, the world looked up

Sunblock

Unless you were observing  a complete media blackout or somehow missed the eclipse-related tchotchkes in your local grocery store display, you’ve surely heard about the total solar eclipse on April 8, 2024, along with a bunch of complicated scientific terms thrown around by people explaining how it happens and what it looks like.

Lost? Here’s a basic explanation of last week’s cosmic event and how it works.

Round and Round We Go

The earth’s orbit around the sun takes 365 days, six hours, and nine minutes to complete. Similarly, the moon revolves around the earth on a path that takes roughly a month. Naturally, there will be times when the celestial bodies come into alignment in their revolutions; that’s called an eclipse.

A solar eclipse happens when the moon passes between the earth and the sun, blocking the sunlight for a few minutes until the moon slowly moves out of the way. A lunar eclipse is when the earth is positioned directly between the sun and the moon, causing earth’s shadow to fall on the moon and make it look dark red.

While eclipses happen fairly often, the reason they aren’t more common is because the moon’s orbit is slightly higher than the earth’s, meaning the moon is usually slightly higher or lower than the sun. In order for any form of an eclipse to happen, the moon needs to cross into earth’s orbital plane at a specific location that places it precisely between the two other celestial bodies. The type of eclipse that will be visible on earth will depend on what part of their orbit the sun, moon, and earth are on, which is why total eclipses happen less frequently than other forms of eclipses.

Diamonds and Beads

The path of totality, which is roughly 100 miles wide, refers to the areas on land that can witness a total solar eclipse.

The 2017 and 2024 eclipses were unusual in that they occurred over large contiguous (attached) swathes of land, so millions of people could witness one for the first time in their lives. Since some 72 percent of the planet is covered in water, most eclipses occur over the ocean, with bits of land seeing a partial event. The areas surrounding the path of totality won’t witness a full eclipse, but they will see a partial blockage depending on their distance from the path of totality.

It is unsafe to look at an incomplete eclipse directly; the sun’s rays will burn your retinas. An eclipse can be viewed safely without protective eyewear only once the sun is completely obstructed by the moon.

During a solar eclipse, the sky slowly darkens as the moon starts to cross in front of the sun, in a process that can take hours. In the seconds before the moon completely obstructs the sun, an eagle-eyed viewer can spot little dots of sunlight that stream through the mountains and valleys along the moon’s surface until the moon locks into position and they start to go dark. These little dots are known as Baily’s beads, named for British astronomer Francis Baily, who described them after the eclipse of 1836 “like a string of beads” that disappear one by one when the eclipse nears totality.

After the 1842 eclipse, Baily noted that the moon was suddenly “surrounded with a corona or kind of bright glory,” thus introducing the word “corona” to eclipse lexicon. When a single bright spot remains on the edge of the circle — the “diamond ring effect” — totality is about to occur. Once that “diamond” disappears and there is no more direct sunlight, it is safe to view the eclipse with the naked eye. The eclipse ends when a diamond and corona reappear on the opposite ends of the moon, followed by Baily’s beads.

The post In Totality first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Creature of Habit

Hadassah Eventsur

S

hira collapses on her couch and whips out her phone. Her eyes glaze as she watches a reel. Fit and lean with glowing skin, the influencer’s animated message is highlighted with bold green and purple captions at the bottom of the screen. “You don’t have to like exercising; just do it anyway.”

Shira scowls. She knows how many times she’s pushed herself, only to crash and burn. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me,” she mutters.

Miri can’t wait to begin her new endeavor. She’s heard about the benefits of journaling and just knows how life-changing it can be. After work, she detours to the arts and crafts store and purchases a shiny new journal and glitter pens. She’s bursting with excitement as she enters her first journal entry. Unfortunately, by day three, the journal sits at the bottom of a kitchen drawer collecting dust.

Leora’s been waiting to drop those extra pounds since the baby’s birth. She heads to the grocery, shopping list in hand, and 30 minutes later, her cart is piled high with fruits, rice cakes, and low-carb wraps. After unpacking, she detects a low rumbling in her belly. But she’s too exhausted to cut up a salad, and the tub of ice cream in the freezer seems much more appealing than the rice cakes in the cabinet. She whips out the ice cream and a spoon and retreats to her bedroom in shame.

When attempting to establish new habits, many people start strong, but after a few weeks, or maybe even days, their success take a nosedive. If you have ADHD or executive functioning deficits, it’s likely you find it even more challenging to create new habits, due to things like low dopamine production, poor emotional regulation, and poor working memory.

In his book Atomic Habits, James Clear offers ten rules for successful habit building, three of which we’ll discuss in this article. The first rule is: “When building a new habit, consistency is more effective than intensity.” Being consistent, even when doing less, is more sustainable than making big changes. Shira will be more successful starting her exercise program for five minutes a day, five days a week, than if she pushes through an intense one-hour workout.

The second rule is: “When starting a new habit, make it as obvious as possible.” Miri will be better served placing her journal and pen in an area where she’s likely to see it and use it. This could be on her nightstand next to her bed or beside her coffee pot, but not inside a kitchen drawer.

The third rule is: “Make the habit easy and convenient.” In Leora’s case, the ice cream was readily available and didn’t require any prep time. It would be advantageous for her to buy precut fruits and move the ice cream to the basement freezer.

Contrary to popular belief, building new habits has less to do with motivation and more to do with putting in some forethought and planning to set yourself up for success.

Hadassah Eventsur, MS, OTR/L is a licensed occupational therapist with over 20 years of experience, and a certified life coach in the Baltimore, MD area.

Family Ecosystem

Dr. Jennie Berkovich

T

eaching kids to tackle chores is often a chore itself. I can mop floors or fold laundry a lot faster without little hands trying to “assist.” However, I recognize the importance of chores for a child’s development, well-being, and future success. Engaging children in age-appropriate chores from as early as age three has numerous benefits. Ordinary tasks like washing dishes or folding laundry help children develop essential life skills and cultivate a sense of responsibility, self-esteem, and empathy.

It’s important that parents assign age-appropriate chores. Preschoolers can pick up toys or help with other basic jobs. As children grow older, they can take on more responsibilities, like cooking simple meals, cleaning shared spaces, or assisting with yard work. By gradually increasing the complexity of chores based on age and capability, children develop a sense of accomplishment and independence.

Practically, this isn’t always easy, as requests and reminders are often met with groans and resistance (or maybe that’s just my house?) Here are a few tips to make chores more fun:

Let children help design the chore chart using their favorite colors, stickers, or drawings.

Turn chores into games: Set a timer and see who can complete their chores the fastest, or create a points system where children earn rewards for finishing tasks.

Play upbeat music.

Recognize and celebrate when children complete their chores, even if the results aren’t perfect. Positive reinforcement can encourage them to keep trying.

Discuss the chore list with your children, and let them choose which tasks they want to be responsible for.

Assign chores at the same time each day or week to help children develop good habits.

Adjust as needed: Be willing to modify the chore system if it’s not working for your family. Flexibility and open communication are important. Turns out my two-year-old loves to “sweep,” while my eight-year-old prefers to set the Shabbos table.

Involving children in shared responsibilities within the household teaches the value of contributing to a larger ecosystem, fosters a pitch-in mindset, and reduces self-centeredness. Consistent chore doing instills a strong work ethic, promotes delayed gratification, and enhances problem-solving abilities.

Dr. Jennie Berkovich is a board-certified pediatrician in Chicago and serves as the Director of Education for the Jewish Orthodox Medical Association (JOWMA).

When Silence Isn’t Golden

Sara Eisemann

“Tact is golden, not silence.” — Anonymous

Silence is one of the most powerful and most misunderstood forces in the world. Used well, it conveys an empathy deeper than words could ever hold. It’s an entity — not just the mere absence of sound.

Sometimes, however, it can be used as a lazy shortcut, as a means of avoiding what needs to be said. Rather than taking the time and courage to really express a thought with tact, one can easily retreat into silence and maybe even applaud herself for it. But that kind of silence is just an opportunity that was lost.

Sara Eisemann, LMSW, ACSW, is a licensed therapist, Directed Dating coach, and certified Core Mentor.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 890)

The post Creature of Habit   first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

All the things I’ve always made fun of… those things made fun of me now.

We were back.

We were the stereotypical young couple, arriving “home” from Eretz Yisrael with cute matching luggage a day after Rosh Chodesh Nissan.

We were the young couple who set up camp in my parents’ guest suite, coming in through the private basement entrance but spending most of the day in the thick of the pre-Pesach action upstairs, which basically meant helping my mother flop a whole bunch of miracle-based cakes.

We were the young couple meeting up with our besties and telling them all about how special it was to literally walk on the same ground as the Avos Hakedoshim.

I recounted our near-death chavayah to Zissi while we waited for our steaks. “So we were walking home from the Kosel Friday night, all innocently, and don’t ask me how — both of us had walked this route hundreds of times as singles — but suddenly we were, like, in the Arab neighborhood.”

Zissi shuddered. It was an almost… dutiful shudder.

She had wanted to meet in the ice cream shop, but I’d refused, insisting that I never got to see my best friend these days, and if I finally had this opportunity, I was going to host her in style.

I said the word “host” casually, but I made sure she heard it. A restaurant meal for her meant an adjustment of that week’s earnings, I knew, while for me — well, okay, for my father — it meant absolutely nothing. Just another random swipe.

I may have been a bit spoiled, but I wasn’t insensitive.

Zissi sipped her water thoughtfully. “What’s the average age that a girl’s hair turns gray?”

“Zissi!”

She winked. “Don’t worry, Yehudis. I’m not like this usually. I just had a… rough week, let’s call it.”

I tucked sheitel hairs behind my ear. “Tell me everything,” I said, softly.

She told me.

She told me that her father had followed up with a shadchan who’d redt a certain boy. He committed to covering the couple’s rent for the first year. And? No. Just no.

“The boy is my father’s talmid. They have a strong kesher.” She finished off with a shrug. “Basically, I’m a nobody on the shidduch scene because my father doesn’t have two nickels to rub together. And it’s fine, it’s really fine. Whoever I end up marrying will obviously be okay with that, and that will make him be a good fit for me.”

Furtively, I slipped my hands under the table. I twisted my diamond ring around my finger, but my finger seemed to have swelled, and the ring clung uncomfortably.

“You know, Zissi, whoever marries you is going to win the lottery.”

“Aw.”

I meant it. Zissi was a rare gem. She was the most pleasant person to be around, she had sterling middos, solid hashkafos, a wicked sense of humor. And seriously, money? What a joke. Zissi was so low maintenance, she hardly even needed money. Yeah, sure, life is expensive. But I knew Zissi. She would be self-sufficient. She’d chosen to go for CPA licensure after careful deliberation, concluding that it was a field that would allow her to support her family for a long time, the way she wanted. “Plus, duh, you have an accountant’s brain,” I told her, and she blushed with a mixture of humility and pride.

Zissi would support her family — maybe on a modest scale, true — but she would do it independently. And it would give her the greatest satisfaction.

A nobody on the shidduch scene because her father couldn’t offer support? Seriously! Zissi was more prepared than any girl I knew to marry a serious learner. What more could you ask for in a girl?

Honestly, I would grab such a girl for my—

For Yossi.

I could barely contain my excitement the rest of the meal. I couldn’t wait for Binyomin to pick me up so I could share my brainstorm with him.

I was the stereotypical newlywed, setting up my best friend with my husband’s kid brother.

The post Hidden Assets first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Photos: Avi Gass

Show business seems like no business for an Orthodox rabbi. But Rabbi Shmuel Lynn, director of Olami Manhattan, has been charting a path in film-making that is decidedly unorthodox for the entertainment world. With the release of Bardejov, his full-length feature film that shines a new light on a dark chapter of Jewish history, he hopes to inspire viewers to explore their own roots

Nestled in Slovakia’s mountains and dotted with picturesque medieval buildings, the town of Bardejov looks like something out of a fairy tale. In the years before the war, it was known as a vacation spot, frequented by chassidic rebbes and their entourages.

But then, in 1939, Slovakia allied with Germany, and three years later, when the Nazis decided to round up the Jews of Bardejov for deportation, the local Slovaks — the Hlinka Guard — were available to do the job for them. In what was the first organized transport to Auschwitz, the Slovaks were ordered to round up 300 Jewish girls to go work in a “shoe factory.” Raphael Lowey, a winemaker and the lay leader of the community, learned through his connections — fleeing Polish Jews and escapees from Treblinka who made their way to Bardejov — that the shoe factory jobs were nothing more than a ruse, a cover for extermination.

As some of the local Jews had access to gunpowder, Lowey proposed blowing up the entire town, which would create mass chaos as well as a diversion so that the girls, and others who would surely be next, could escape their imminent death. But the town’s rabbi, a great-grandson of the Divrei Chaim of Sanz (most of the town were Sanzer chassidim), ruled that it was forbidden (it was a complex sh’eilah amid so many other complex queries that arose in the context of the war). Their next plan was risky but workable: Before the transport would take the girls away, they could feign a typhus epidemic. The Jewish leaders procured serum from the larger city of Kosice and smuggled it to the girls, who were being held in the local girls’ school.

Not every girl took the serum, but some were given double doses. Everyone feared the symptoms might not appear in time — the local leaders even bribed a doctor to declare an epidemic if no symptoms developed rapidly. But the girls became violently ill while waiting to board their transports, the authorities panicked, and the girls were returned to the town on Erev Pesach, and all of them managed to recover, gaining a temporary reprieve on their lives.

This gripping story of the staged epidemic of 1942 was largely unknown — until now. Rabbi Shmuel Lynn, director of the kiruv organization Olami Manhattan and a former screenwriter for film and television, created a film to tell the story. Bardejov, written by Rabbi Lynn and released last month, is a full-length feature film based on the heroic story of that little Slovakian town. The film premiered recently in Los Angeles and has been picked up by the major domestic and international distributors.

The post The Greater Director of All Time first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

As told to Shoshana Gross

T

he phone explodes in my ear, jarring me awake in a shrill tidal wave of noise. Almost mechanically I start to reach for it when the realization strikes — “Shabbos!” Why is my phone ringing? Through bleary eyes, the name of the chief, our senior resident at the hospital, flashes on my caller ID. She knows it’s Shabbos, and I’m supposed to be off this weekend… but the jeopardy!

Heart sinking, I remember that Estelle, a fellow resident, had asked me the week before if I could take over her Saturday night jeopardy. Any resident on jeopardy is the substitute if something happens to a resident or doctor who’s supposed to be on call. It rarely happens, but this phone call means the person I’m replacing as jeopardy is on duty.

“Sorry, Dr. Rubin,” the chief tells me when I answer. “But we need you here as a replacement. Be here by six a.m.”

I let my groggy husband know. “I’ll take an Uber. I need my things with me, and carrying is a d’Oraisa.” He nods, and I begin to dress in the semidarkness.

When I was finished my fourth year in med school, I called my rav, Rabbi Friedman, with an important sh’eilah.

“I’m going to be starting my residency program in August,” I told him. “What are the heterim for working on Shabbos?”

“There are no heterim,” he replied sternly.

The post On Call: Chapter 3 — Jeopardy  first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Gratitude List

1) kids devoured supper

2) it didn’t snow enough to make driving scary and school canceled

3) Sarah had a girl — and I don’t have to wake up early to go to a bris

Can I make an Ungrateful List, or a “thought I was grateful but now I’m not” list? It’s confusing. I feel like Someone Upstairs is messing with me. Switching Gavi’s class seemed like the best thing since a Shabbos nap but now I feel like an old sheitel that looks like a bird’s nest.

He came home yesterday and asked me for football gloves — clueless me has no idea what he’s talking about.

“It makes you catch the football better — it has grippy things on it.”

First, I’m thinking, since when does he play football? Then, why does he need accessories, what happened to just balls and imagination? Apparently everyone in his new class plays football. His old class played dodgeball and basketball. Fine, not sure why they need gloves, but whatever. I checked on Amazon at work today for football grip gloves; I didn’t even know what I was searching for. There was a price range — and sue me, I bought the $15 ones.

I told Gavi when I got home, thinking I’d get a mother-of-the-year prize, but no, instead he asks me, “What team?”

“Team?” I was so confused.

“Yeah, what team is on the gloves?”

“There’s no team on the gloves. I think it has a black and white swirl design.”

“I wanted the one with the Giants!”

That was a jaw-drop moment. Did he just name a professional sports team, and not just say it, but that he wanted a product of theirs?

I could ask in clutch-my-pearls shock where my darling son picked up these shtusim from, but I knew the answer: I put him there.

“Do other boys in your class have teams?” I tried for nonchalant, but I don’t think my voice is ever in that pitch range.

“Yeah, everyone.”

“So, like four kids?”

“No, everyone.”

“Five?”

Gavi looked at me and then started counting on his fingers.

“Sixteen.”

Ouch, that’s out of like 23.

“But I already ordered gloves for you.”

“Can’t you cancel them, or return them?”

Yeah, but…. That really wasn’t the point. I made myself take deep breaths and tried to escape. I gave him a vague, “We’ll see.”

I would have talked it over with Yussie when he came home, but he came home so late and so tired, it was not worth trying to have a conversation about anything real, or that we might argue about. That dumb I’m not.

So now I’m writing in my dumbo daily journal, wondering, WHY DOES MY SON CARE ABOUT A SPORTS TEAM, and WHY DID I SWITCH HIM OUT OF THE YESHIVISH CLASS, and WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT THE DUMB GLOVES?

The post Fumble first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Photos: Moshe Klein

Globetrotter Moshe Klein didn’t have great expectations in planning a trip to Eritrea, a small country with little Jewish history located across the Red Sea from Yemen. But a providential meeting with the one remaining Jew showed him a country he’ll never forget

World traveler Moshe Klein didn’t expect any high drama on his visit to Eritrea, a relatively small country with little Jewish history that is located across the Red Sea from Yemen. But funny things happen when you travel. Losing his luggage turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to Klein, leading him to the home of Eritrea’s only Jewish resident, and a glimpse of the country he will never forget.

Within Limits

Situated on the Horn of Africa, north of Ethiopia and east of Sudan, Eritrea is not such an easy country to get into. Two years after Eritrea won its 30-year-long war for independence from Ethiopia, Isaias Afwerki became the country’s president, as well as the chairman of its only legal political party, the People’s Front for Democracy and Justice. Eritrea has no legislature, no functioning constitution, and no published budget, and Afwerki controls both the judiciary and the military. Human Rights Watch, which investigates abuse all over the world, asserts that Eritrea is a dictatorship; the US State Department goes so far as to describe the country as a “highly centralized totalitarian regime.”

In other words, getting into Eritrea isn’t as simple as booking a plane ticket and packing a bag. Few tourists are allowed in, but Klein had enjoyed visiting other countries in the region, and Eritrea earned a spot on his bucket list. He made sure to time his visit for Eritrea’s Independence Day celebration in late May, when travel visas are issued more liberally, and he was able to work the connections he’s acquired in his travels to get the necessary paperwork approved.

Klein’s visa allowed him to travel only with a guide within the city limits of Asmara, Eritrea’s capital and there were just a handful of other tourists on Klein’s flight to Asmara International Airport. While he could have applied for special permission to visit other sites during his four-day stay, all government offices were closed for Independence Day, so he made the most of his time in Asmara and nearby villages.

The post The Last Jew Is Never Alone   first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

I

get it. A new baby is exciting.

What I don’t get is the difference between learning about my cousin Toby’s newest family member at 5 a.m versus at 7 a.m. While I’m asleep, especially during the last two precious hours before morning, I’m not all that news hungry. I can’t even know what I don’t know; I’m sleeping, for goodness’ sake.

I know it’s my fault. Why do I keep my phone next to my bed, right? Because I use it as my alarm clock, that’s why, and this morning, the mazel tov text wakes me at five, followed by an explosion of Mazel tov!!!! So exciting!!!! Lots of nachas!!! messages, because looks like other members of the family have been up and waiting for the news.

Plus, Toby happens to be my cousin on Yosef’s side as well, so I get double rounds of explosions. Yaaaaw— uh, yay.

I don’t reply until seven thirty. Just because Toby’s new baby stole my sleep doesn’t mean I should steal the sleep of others. When I send my mazel tov, I do it three times. Once on the Schaffer group, once on the Davidowitz group, and once privately to Toby, with my sincerest wishes and specific offers for help. Send me Leah for a week, she gets along so well with my Perlie.

Less than two minutes pass before Toby replies. You know something, Tamar? I might just take you up on that offer.

Nice. I love doing this kind of favor. I know how hard it is to come home to a houseful of kids with a newborn, and it’s really no big deal for me. Leah goes to school, she’s well-behaved as far as I know, and she’s five years old, pretty much independent. Having an additional kid around won’t stress me.

“We’re getting a guest this week!” I tell my kids as I pull out the toaster for breakfast.

Our guest shows up straight from school that day, with a pink oaktag mazel tov crown. “Maaaaaazel tov, Leah!” I squeal. Then, knowing what a kid who’s been farmed out to her cousins’ house needs most, I lift her in the air — tiny thing that she is — and embrace her.

Two things hit me.

One, her hand.

It hits me with startling unexpectedness, flat on my cheek.

I’m still processing what just happened — did I do something wrong by hugging her? — when the second thing hits me.

An odor. It hits like a wave. Her hair doesn’t smell right. I sniff again, cautiously.

Okay, someone needs a bath. She’d probably skipped one too many. I guess that happens when your mother’s approaching labor. I remember good and well what a wreck I’d been before I had my Efraim.

Perlie arrives home a few minutes later, and the two girls go off to play. I bustle around the kitchen, breading cutlets, cubing potatoes, mixing together a stir fry. I pop a container of frozen soup into a pot and set it to simmer.

An hour later, supper’s ready, and I call the kids to the table.

This is where my daily illusion disintegrates.

The post Rescue Mission first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

“It’s an avodah,” Mordy would say. “You have to have kavanah.”

Dovi’s eyebrows creased in concentration as he measured out 28 grams of coffee beans, imported from Gedeo Zone, Ethiopia, and inserted them into the grinder. He then turned to the kettle screeching on the stovetop. “The only kavanah I’m having,” he mumbled to no one, “is to not melt my hand off.”

Mordy always insisted on an actual kettle rather than any of the more modern heating apparatuses — “it needs to be a mevushal with all the hiddurim” — was his expression, and Dovi dutifully poured the boiling water over the freshly ground beans and watched the thick brown liquid trickle through the filter into the waiting thermos below.

He swiftly clamped on the cover and checked his watch. One thirty. Mordy’s flight landed at two and it took just under an hour to get to the airport. He envisioned Mordy and Gitty staggering over to the baggage carousel, lunging desperately after each black, unmarked duffel bag. Finally, they would feel satisfied enough to crack open the zipper, whereupon a pile of seforim would come tumbling out. Dovi had time, he knew, but not tons of it.

He grabbed the thermos, about to head out, then paused and raced down the stairs to the guestroom. He knocked lightly on the door.

“Hey, come on in!” Zeidy sounded cheerful albeit a bit drowsy. Dovi pushed the door open. Zeidy was sitting up in bed, reading From Newton to Nuclear — Physics through the Ages.

“Hi Zeidy, just checking in on you. I’m about to head to the airport to pick up Mordy and Gitty. Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

“Ah Dovi, I’m doing fine. Still full from that oatmeal you made me for breakfast. Go on to the airport. Your old Zeidy will be just dandy.”

Dovi smiled, reached out and gave his grandfather a quick shoulder rub, then hurried back up the stairs and straight toward the front door, which he flung open wide. The blast of spring air blended with the strong scent of coffee made for a surreal déjà vu experience. There were still some patches of snow on the ground, just like there had been for last year’s drive to the airport. He slid into his car, carefully put the thermos in the cupholder, and pulled into reverse.

The curbs were running with melted snow as Dovi picked up speed and turned onto the thoroughfare that would take him to the highway. He opened the windows a touch, just to feel the rush of wind as he swung through the exit and glided into the left lane. Now he was on his way and had the freedom to think.

Mordy was coming! Dovi had long gotten used to the fact that Pesach was the only time they’d see each other, and he always made sure to maximize every moment of it. Together they’d learn in the kollel that Dovi wouldn’t dare enter unshielded by Mordy. He’d sit there, smug and proud as he wore a spiffy wine-colored cardigan in the sea of black and white. Contemporaries would shuffle over and wish his brother a shalom aleichem. Then they’d turn to Dovi. “Ah, der brudder!” they would smile and offer a warm handshake. Mordy would wink at him the moment they moved on. Ninth-grade bochurim would huddle in a corner, daring each other to make the plunge and ask Mordy a question.

Although Dovi had no way of confirming it, he was certain that they were all agape that this sharp-looking 22-year-old who struggled to get through a line of gemara was just one year younger than the legendary illui they all adulated. But Dovi didn’t care. It was the highlight of his year, the annual breath of spirituality in a life that was a whirlwind of digits and stock symbols.

The post Birthright first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Living Higher

T

he above photo depicts Rav Shlomo Wolbe z”l, the legendary mashgiach of Be’er Yaakov, grating maror in the Monsey home of his son, Reb Avi shlita. It’s a picture that tells a story of greatness, humility, and deep, impassioned love for the mitzvos of Pesach. In fact, in a poignant postscript, Rav Wolbe’s yahrtzeit is the 17th of Nissan, the third day of Pesach. And while Pesach is the celebration of our leaving Mitzrayim, one of the many episodes in Rav Wolbe’s storied life involves going to Mitzrayim.

His grandson Rabbi Yaakov Wolbe, whose podcasts have brought thousands closer to Yiddishkeit, shares how kiruv was a foremost ambition of his grandfather’s.

“Saba believed it was feasible to bring multitudes of our brethren back to Torah and that we must do whatever we can to help facilitate that. In the aftermath of the undeniable miracles experienced in the Six Day War and the Yom Kippur War, he felt that secular Israeli society was receptive to messages of emunah.”

Never one to neglect an opportunity, the great Mashgiach left his home and traveled across the Suez Canal to share a message of encouragement with the troops stationed there. But for Rav Wolbe, the trip didn’t present a break from his lifetime pursuit of mussar.

“Saba would share that the airplane was flying very low, just a few meters from the ground. He asked the pilot why that was. Did the plane malfunction? The pilot responded that they needed to fly low in order to avoid Egyptian radar.”

Upon returning home, Rav Wolbe would reflect upon this response. “We assume that the path to growth is by doing great things: great acts of chesed; pushing to learn with great intensity for long, uninterrupted periods; making seismic changes in our life. But the baalei mussar cautioned us against this. We have to ‘fly low’ in order to avoid the yetzer hara’s radar. Striving to make giant leaps all at once will trigger a response from the yetzer hara, and we will get shot down by our enemy.” (Rav Wolbe records this idea in his sefer Alei Shur, Volume 2, page 190).

The humble picture of Rav Wolbe quietly grating maror tells of his fusion of greatness and humility, the fulfillment of a lesson learned on the way to Mitzrayim.

And as he readied himself to leave Mitzrayim, so can we.

Overheard

“People think milk is produced in the back of a supermarket, and pickles are grown on the shelf. We don’t realize how many millions of precise and perfect details have to fall into place in order for food to grow.

“When Hashem takes away one of those minor details, sending a whole production apparatus off kilter, it allows us to appreciate how much He is constantly providing us, and how grateful we have to be when everything does come out exactly as needed.”

—Mr. Grunhut, owner of Flaum Appetizing, reflecting on the lack of sour pickles available during this Pesach season. A minor drought in Mexico decimated an entire crop of cucumbers slated to be picked, barreled, and shipped to kosher supermarkets around the country. The company’s entire production line was on standby for two weeks as the farmers rushed to plant new crops, which Mr. Grunhut hopes will reach the kosher consumer immediately after Pesach.

Clothes Don’t Make the Man

Igud Bnei Torah is a Lakewood-based organization that provides subsidized clothing to kollel yungeleit before Yom Tov. To maintain the privacy of its clients and to allow for individualized attention, the Igud sets up appointments for the yungeleit to come with their families and get outfitted at significantly discounted prices. When the booking slots opened up, they were filled within an hour, but the 7:30 p.m. slot remained untaken. Organizers offered the slot to people on the waiting list, but no one was willing to take it.

At first, the organizers were surprised, but they soon realized what was happening. Getting to their headquarters at 7:30 would entail leaving second seder shortly before it officially ended — and no amount of money saved was worth those few minutes of limud HaTorah.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1008)

The post The Moment: Issue 1008 first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.