Fearing Wal-Mart Will Bring Too Much of the Outside In,
By FERNANDA SANTOS
Published June 25, 2007 in the New York Times
MONSEY, N.Y. — It seems whenever Wal-Mart proposes a new store, controversy sprouts. Across the country, environmentalists, unions, civic associations and churches have objected to the retailer’s plans to drop anchor in their communities, citing concerns about traffic and crime, merchandise and employment policies and the overall quality of life.
But the protest of a planned 215,000-square-foot store here has a decidedly religious overtone.
When residents talk about traffic, they are fearful for the safety of families walking to synagogue on Saturdays. When they fret about merchandise, they wonder if frowned-upon items like bikinis and lingerie will be on display for everyone to see. And when they imagine the outsiders who would shop at the store, they worry that their presence could transform the town’s pious, sheltered atmosphere.
“The reason a lot of us came to live in Monsey is because we wanted to raise our families in a safe place, away from the influences of the outside world,” said Yossi Weinberger, 30, a father of four who works at a local travel agency. “I’m not sure it will be easy to do it if we have such a gigantic piece of the outside world move to our town.”
Philip H. Serghini, a public affairs manager for Wal-Mart, has visited the community of 28,000, most of them Hasidic Jews, at least six times since October. He has met in private with about two dozen rabbis to explain the company’s proposal to turn a shuttered drive-in theater on Route 59 into a retail magnet for miles around.
But two years after Wal-Mart unveiled its plan, opposition persists, as the Community Design Review Committee, an advisory group to the Planning Board in Ramapo, of which Monsey is a part, reviews the project’s environmental impact statement.
In early 2006, an elderly volunteer dropped off anti-Wal-Mart petitions in several Jewish-owned businesses, gathering 1,000 signatures in four days. Around the same time, religious school administrators distributed fliers to students and their parents under the headline “Be Aware.”
The Rockland Bulletin, a local Jewish weekly newspaper, ran a full-page ad this spring warning: “An influx of undesirable influences will pollute the spiritual environment.” And this month, “Community Connections,” a weekly newsletter with 1,300 subscribers, published a call for action of sorts: “Today, it is harder than ever to protect our children from influences that are at odds with the values and morals we try to instill in them,” the article says. “It would be naive to assume that a Wal-Mart Supercenter can open in our midst and not destroy some of which has so painstakingly been built.”
Joseph Kizelnik, who as the owner of a discount store near the proposed Wal-Mart site has a financial interest along with any spiritual concerns, is one of the more vocal opponents. “I say public opinion always helps,” he said, “and if we get together as a group, as a community, we can win this battle.”
Elsewhere, Wal-Mart, the nation’s largest retailer, has often acquiesced to public pressure and made adjustments. It has hired local architects to meld stores into particular landscapes, painting a store in desert sandstone in Arizona and building an outlet in Long Beach, Calif., with an Art Deco look. In Middlefield, Ohio, home to one of the nation’s largest Amish communities, Wal-Mart placed hitching posts for horse-drawn buggies in a store’s parking lot and stocked shelves with barley soup and non-electric refrigerators.
Here, Wal-Mart has already agreed to conceal magazine covers that may be deemed offensive, such as the ones picturing celebrities in provocative outfits, “something that’s new for us,” Mr. Serghini said.
“The rabbis have a lot of concerns, and some of them are similar to those we’ve heard from other communities, but there are very specific elements to this experience,” Mr. Serghini said. “Definitely, this is the most unique place I’ve ever been to.”
The thousands of Hasidic Jews who have settled in Monsey, an unincorporated hamlet in Rockland County, since at least the early 1970s are guided by centuries-old religious traditions, which have remained unchanged even in the face of unprecedented growth inside and outside town borders. The streets here are lined with sidewalks, as many of the women do not drive — an activity deemed immodest in stricter Jewish sects. Many boys and girls are educated separately, in private, Yiddish-language religious schools. A sign at the entrance of a kosher supermarket reminds visitors to refrain from wearing revealing clothes.
The community, is considered a powerful voting bloc, so in a local election year, officials have been careful not to alienate its members. Christopher St. Lawrence, who is running for re-election as town supervisor in Ramapo, has been cautious in his public comments.
“It’s not appropriate for me to issue an opinion because I don’t want to influence the Planning Board,” Mr. St. Lawrence said in an interview. “My concern is traffic, and for a regional store like the one being proposed, we need a regional solution, and that’s not something you could solve with a few stoplights.”
The proposed Wal-Mart Supercenter would occupy a 22-acre site on Route 59, about three miles from access ramps to the New York State Thruway. Route 59, a two-lane state highway lined with strip malls, is often clogged during rush hours and is especially busy on Fridays as families hurry to finish errands before the Sabbath starts. On Saturdays, roads everywhere are choked with pedestrians, including many mothers pushing babies in strollers.
The arrival of large crowds of people who aren’t aware of community mores worries Shlomo Zalman, 31, a computer consultant. “That kind of issue is somewhat unavoidable because any supermarket that opens up, be it Wal-Mart, Stop & Shop or Shop-Rite, will present the same types of challenges,” he said. He added, “I don’t know if I would shop there.”
An analysis by Brian Ketcham, a transportation engineer hired by the Neighborhood Retail Alliance, a small-business advocacy group in Manhattan that has helped organize Monsey’s anti-Wal-Mart movement, said the store would add about 16,000 vehicles to Route 59 on weekdays, resulting in a 30 percent increase in congestion.
Jerrold Bermingham, managing director of National Realty and Development, the project’s developer, said any increase in traffic on Route 59 could be mitigated by the construction of turning lanes, widening of the road and installation of a traffic light at the top of the driveway leading into the store.
The store would be open 24 hours, seven days a week, and include a supermarket, a service station and parking for nearly 1,000 cars. If constructed, it would replace a Wal-Mart in Airmont, a village two miles to the east. Company officials estimate it would add 170 jobs.
Mr. Serghini, of Wal-Mart, said he had asked the rabbis to prepare a list of concerns, which he has yet to receive, in an effort to “comport to the local mores.” Wal-Mart is also considering creating a way for rabbis to provide feedback to the store on a regular basis, he said.
“There’s no question our outreach has been greater than usual,” Mr. Serghini said. “But we believe that in any community, as long as you’re respectful and you’re honest, you can go a long way.” (End of NYT Article, copyrighted 2007)
Master of the Universe, You know what the anti-Semites say about Your beloved children. They claim that "all the Jews care about is money." And I, Yisroel Yehoshua ben HaRav Moshe, say that we care about everything important, money included. They say we amass money because we're greedy; I say we amass money to bestow - to our descendants, to charitable ventures. They say we get our money by hurting others; I say we make our money by providing vital services to others. They say our money replaces You in our lives; I say it replaces possessions with less potential for doing good.
So who is telling the truth? Perhaps their "hatred upsets the row"; but perhaps my "love upsets the row."
So let us put it to the test, Father. Let us see what percentage of our money goes to charities, and what percentage of theirs. Let's look at the plaques in front of every worthy hospital and museum, the lists of donors to all the worthy charities - Your children are represented disproportionately. Let's look at every place where searchers of spirituality gather, and again Your children are represented disproportionate to their small numbers.
You asked us to love you beChol me'odecho, with all our possessions. Please let this Monsey story prove that all the money - at least hundreds of dollars per Monsey family - that would have been saved by large families with groaning budgets, was not worth to them the possibility that some of Your children would be distracted from Your service for even a moment, whether by a magazine cover or an immodestly dressed woman. Please have this prove that making sure their brothers could make a respectable living was more important to them than balancing their own checkbook. That having the world laugh at them was less meaningful in the lives of this holy community than not having You frown at them. That Your generous gift of money means less than Your loving gift of Divine approval.
G-d in Heaven, please pay the holy community of Monsey, NY back 7 times the wealth they gave up lovingly. Please replace the scoffing they withstood with profound respect and awe, and please always smile upon them both individually and communally.
G-d in Heaven, please look down at ALL your amazing children who give up everything for Your love, and bring the Redeemer - for the sake of Your Name - in love.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
The Ultimate Shoe
Editor: I wrote this in memory of Rav Yisroel Ze'ev Gustman, ZY"A, in honor of his 19th Yahrzeit.
Shoes.
Fitted, protective, durable.
Chanoch crafts them, stitches them,
Two shoes, different,
Uniting in one purpose,
The purpose of the One.
Shoes.
Barriers, interruptions... profane.
Moshe undoes them, removes them,
Both shoes, deferent,
To cleave to his one purpose,
Holy, direct flow from the One.
Shoes.
Sturdy, barterable, necessary.
Yosef replaces them,
They will protect against the snakes and scorpions,
That had not been a concern... until now.
Shoes at least good for something,
Shoes can help sustain them,
Not like Yosef...
Shoes.
A craft, a source of sustenance.
Yochanan sells them, learns, teaches,
Independent, no worries.
Sin is forgotten, so that
The One purpose is forefront.
Shoes?
Not for the waters of the Danube.
No worth water-logged,
Nameless Jews shot,
Crossing like arrows to the Divine shores,
Shoes left for the needy... or cruel.
Shoes?
Not for the father with no appetite.
Young Meir wore them, he's been torn
From his father's arms, executed.
Trade them to feed others,
Comfort others.
Their memory seared into
A father's innermost mind.
Shoes?
Not for the father who couldn't cry.
Yechezkel found them in his home's rubble,
Held them, caressed them,
Wept for days, no thought of food or sleep.
Years of numbness, emptiness
In the Slingshot of Hell, expiated.
Shoes!
Our bodies are but shoes,
To carry our Souls through their earthly journey,
To lock in and blunt their awesome power.
To protect our Souls from the filth, the stones
That could ripple up to our loftiest aspects.
Master of the Universe, we sinned,
With the shoes You bestowed. So,
You removed many shoes,
For Your One purpose. The time has come,
Father, for the ultimate shoe:
Fitted, yet expanding;
Protective, yet penetrable;
Physical, yet eternal.
To soar, we'll need one shoe only...
The pair, L-rd, will be You and Us!
Shoes.
Fitted, protective, durable.
Chanoch crafts them, stitches them,
Two shoes, different,
Uniting in one purpose,
The purpose of the One.
Shoes.
Barriers, interruptions... profane.
Moshe undoes them, removes them,
Both shoes, deferent,
To cleave to his one purpose,
Holy, direct flow from the One.
Shoes.
Sturdy, barterable, necessary.
Yosef replaces them,
They will protect against the snakes and scorpions,
That had not been a concern... until now.
Shoes at least good for something,
Shoes can help sustain them,
Not like Yosef...
Shoes.
A craft, a source of sustenance.
Yochanan sells them, learns, teaches,
Independent, no worries.
Sin is forgotten, so that
The One purpose is forefront.
Shoes?
Not for the waters of the Danube.
No worth water-logged,
Nameless Jews shot,
Crossing like arrows to the Divine shores,
Shoes left for the needy... or cruel.
Shoes?
Not for the father with no appetite.
Young Meir wore them, he's been torn
From his father's arms, executed.
Trade them to feed others,
Comfort others.
Their memory seared into
A father's innermost mind.
Shoes?
Not for the father who couldn't cry.
Yechezkel found them in his home's rubble,
Held them, caressed them,
Wept for days, no thought of food or sleep.
Years of numbness, emptiness
In the Slingshot of Hell, expiated.
Shoes!
Our bodies are but shoes,
To carry our Souls through their earthly journey,
To lock in and blunt their awesome power.
To protect our Souls from the filth, the stones
That could ripple up to our loftiest aspects.
Master of the Universe, we sinned,
With the shoes You bestowed. So,
You removed many shoes,
For Your One purpose. The time has come,
Father, for the ultimate shoe:
Fitted, yet expanding;
Protective, yet penetrable;
Physical, yet eternal.
To soar, we'll need one shoe only...
The pair, L-rd, will be You and Us!
The Rabbi and the Professor, by Rabbi Ari Kahn
Many years ago when I was a relatively young yeshiva student, I had the opportunity to study with one of the great rabbis of the previous generation. His name was Rabbi Yisroel Ze'ev Gustman, and he may have been one of the greatest rabbis of the 20th century. He was certainly the greatest "unknown" rabbi: While he fastidiously avoided the limelight and was therefore unfamiliar to the general public, he was well known to connoisseurs of Torah learning.
His meteoric rise from child prodigy to the exalted position of religious judge in the Rabbinical Court of Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzenski at around the age of 20 was the stuff of legend - but nonetheless fact. Many years later, I heard Rav Gustman's own modest version of the events leading to this appointment: A singular (brilliant) insight which he shared with his fellow students was later repeated to the visiting Rav Chaim Ozer, who invited the young student to repeat this same insight the following day in his office in Vilna. Unbeknownst to Rav Gustman, the insight clinched an argument in a complex case that had been debated among the judges in Rav Chaim Ozer's court - and allowed a woman to remarry.
One of the judges adjudicating the case in question, Rabbi Meir Bassin, made inquiries about this young man, and soon a marriage was arranged with his daughter Sarah. When Rabbi Bassin passed away before the wedding, Rabbi Gustman was tapped to take his place as rabbi of Shnipishok, and to take his seat on the court. Although Rav Gustman claimed that he was simply "in the right place at the right time," it was clear that Rav Bassin and Rav Chaim Ozer had seen greatness in this young man.
While a long, productive career on the outskirts of Vilna could have been anticipated, Jewish life in and around Vilna was obliterated by World War II. Rav Gustman escaped, though not unscathed. He hid among corpses. He hid in caves. He hid in a pig pen. Somehow, he survived.
For me, Rav Gustman was the living link to the Jewish world destroyed by the Nazis. I never had to wonder what a Rav in Vilna before the war looked like, for I had seen Rav Gustman, 35 years after the war. At the head of a small yeshiva in the Rechavia section of Jerusalem, Rav Gustman taught a small group of loyal students six days a week. But on Thursdays at noon, the study hall would fill to capacity: Rabbis, intellectuals, religious court judges, a Supreme Court justice and various professors would join along with any and all who sought a high-level Talmud shiur (class) that offered a taste of what had been nearly destroyed. When Rav Gustman gave shiur, Vilna was once again alive and vibrant.
One of the regular participants was a professor at the Hebrew University, Robert J. (Yisrael) Aumann. Once a promising yeshiva student, he had eventually decided to pursue a career in academia, but made his weekly participation in Rav Gustman's shiur part of his schedule, along with many other more or less illustrious residents of Rechavia and Jerusalem.
The year was 1982. Once again, Israel was at war. Soldiers were mobilized, reserve units activated. Among those called to duty was a Reserves soldier, a university student who made his living as a high school teacher: Shlomo Aumann, Professor Yisrael Aumann's son. On the eve of the 19th of Sivan, in particularly fierce combat, Shlomo fell in battle.
Rav Gustman mobilized his yeshiva: All of his students joined him in performing the mitzvah of burying the dead. At the cemetery, Rav Gustman was agitated: He surveyed the rows of graves of the young men, soldiers who died defending the Land. On the way back from the cemetery, Rav Gustman turned to another passenger in the car and said, "They are all holy." Another passenger questioned the rabbi: "Even the non-religious soldiers?" Rav Gustman replied: "Every single one of them." He then turned to the driver and said, "Take me to Professor Aumann's home."
The family had just returned from the cemetery and would now begin the week of shiva -- mourning for their son, brother, husband and father. (Shlomo was married and had one child. His widow, Shlomit, gave birth to their second daughter shortly after he was killed.)
Rav Gustman entered and asked to sit next to Professor Aumann, who said: "Rabbi, I so appreciate your coming to the cemetery, but now is time for you to return to your Yeshiva." Rav Gustman spoke, first in Yiddish and then in Hebrew, so that all those assembled would understand:
"I am sure that you don't know this, but I had a son named Meir. He was a beautiful child. He was taken from my arms and executed. I escaped. I later bartered my child's shoes so that we would have food, but I was never able to eat the food -- I gave it away to others. My Meir is a kadosh -- he is holy -- he and all the six million who perished are holy."
Rav Gustman then added: "I will tell you what is transpiring now in the World of Truth in Gan Eden -- in Heaven. My Meir is welcoming your Shlomo into the minyan and is saying to him ‘I died because I am a Jew -- but I wasn't able to save anyone else. But you -- Shlomo, you died defending the Jewish People and the Land of Israel.' My Meir is a kadosh, he is holy -- but your Shlomo is a Shaliach Tzibbur – a Cantor in that holy, heavenly minyan."
Rav Gustman continued: "I never had the opportunity to sit shiva for my Meir; let me sit here with you just a little longer."
Professor Aumann replied, "I thought I could never be comforted, but Rebbi, you have comforted me."
Rav Gustman did not allow his painful memories to control his life. He found solace in his students, his daughter, his grandchildren, and in every Jewish child. He and his wife would attend an annual parade (on Yom Yerushalayim) where children would march on Jerusalem in song and dance. A rabbi who happened upon them one year asked the Rabbi why he spent his valuable time in such a frivolous activity. Rav Gustman explained, "We who saw a generation of children die, take pleasure in a generation of children who sing and dance in these streets."
A student once implored Rav Gustman to share his memories of the ghetto and the war more publicly and more frequently. He asked him to tell people about his son, about his son's shoes, to which the Rav replied, "I can't, but I think about those shoes every day of my life. I see them every night before I go to sleep."
On the 28th of Sivan 5751 (1991), Rav Gustman passed away. Thousands marched through the streets of Jerusalem accompanying Rav Gustman on his final journey. As night fell on the 29th of Sivan, 9 years after Shlomo Aumann fell in battle, Rav Gustman was buried on the Mount of Olives. I am sure that upon entering Heaven he was reunited with his wife, his teachers and his son Meir. I am also sure that Shlomo Aumann and all the other holy soldiers who died defending the People and the Land of Israel were there to greet this extraordinary Rabbi.
On December 10th 2005, Professor Robert J. Aumann was awarded the Nobel Prize in economics. I am sure he took with him to Stockholm memories of his late wife Esther, and his son Shlomo. I suspect he also took memories of his Rabbi, Rav Gustman.
May it be the will of God that the People of Israel sanctify His Name by living lives of holiness which will serve as a light to the nations – and may no more children, soldiers or yeshiva students ever need to join that holy minyan in Heaven.
Postscript:
The last time I saw Rav Gustman, I was walking in the Meah Shearim/Geulah section of Jerusalem with my wife and oldest son who was being pushed in a stroller. It was Friday morning and we saw the Rosh Yeshiva, we said hello, wished him "Good Shabbos." Then I did something I rarely do: I asked him to bless my son. Rav Gustman looked at the toddler, smiled and said, "May he be a boy like all the other boys."
At first, my wife and I were stunned; what kind of blessing was this? We expected a blessing that the boy grow to be a zaddik - a righteous man, or that he be a Talmid Chacham - a Torah scholar. But no, he blessed him that he should be "like all the boys."
It took many years for this beautiful blessing to make sense to us. The blessing was that he should have a normal childhood, that he have a normal life, that he have his health... Looking back, I realize what a tremendous blessing Rav Gustman gave, and why.
Today, that son - Matityahu, and our second son Hillel, are soldiers in combat units in the Israeli Defense Forces. Brave, strong, motivated and idealistic, they are wonderful soldiers, wonderful Jews. I pray that they return home safely along with all their comrades, and live normal lives - "just like all the boys."
(This article is based on a combination of first-hand knowledge and a composite reconstruction of events as retold to me.)
Editor: L-rd in Heaven, the greatness of your children draws admiration and jealousy, awe and suspicion, love and hate. We have accomplished so much in our exile, but it is no substitute for Your warm embace and protection. Please bring us back to You now, and the Nations will be forced to admit, perhaps begrudgingly but surely, that You have chosen well.
His meteoric rise from child prodigy to the exalted position of religious judge in the Rabbinical Court of Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzenski at around the age of 20 was the stuff of legend - but nonetheless fact. Many years later, I heard Rav Gustman's own modest version of the events leading to this appointment: A singular (brilliant) insight which he shared with his fellow students was later repeated to the visiting Rav Chaim Ozer, who invited the young student to repeat this same insight the following day in his office in Vilna. Unbeknownst to Rav Gustman, the insight clinched an argument in a complex case that had been debated among the judges in Rav Chaim Ozer's court - and allowed a woman to remarry.
One of the judges adjudicating the case in question, Rabbi Meir Bassin, made inquiries about this young man, and soon a marriage was arranged with his daughter Sarah. When Rabbi Bassin passed away before the wedding, Rabbi Gustman was tapped to take his place as rabbi of Shnipishok, and to take his seat on the court. Although Rav Gustman claimed that he was simply "in the right place at the right time," it was clear that Rav Bassin and Rav Chaim Ozer had seen greatness in this young man.
While a long, productive career on the outskirts of Vilna could have been anticipated, Jewish life in and around Vilna was obliterated by World War II. Rav Gustman escaped, though not unscathed. He hid among corpses. He hid in caves. He hid in a pig pen. Somehow, he survived.
For me, Rav Gustman was the living link to the Jewish world destroyed by the Nazis. I never had to wonder what a Rav in Vilna before the war looked like, for I had seen Rav Gustman, 35 years after the war. At the head of a small yeshiva in the Rechavia section of Jerusalem, Rav Gustman taught a small group of loyal students six days a week. But on Thursdays at noon, the study hall would fill to capacity: Rabbis, intellectuals, religious court judges, a Supreme Court justice and various professors would join along with any and all who sought a high-level Talmud shiur (class) that offered a taste of what had been nearly destroyed. When Rav Gustman gave shiur, Vilna was once again alive and vibrant.
One of the regular participants was a professor at the Hebrew University, Robert J. (Yisrael) Aumann. Once a promising yeshiva student, he had eventually decided to pursue a career in academia, but made his weekly participation in Rav Gustman's shiur part of his schedule, along with many other more or less illustrious residents of Rechavia and Jerusalem.
The year was 1982. Once again, Israel was at war. Soldiers were mobilized, reserve units activated. Among those called to duty was a Reserves soldier, a university student who made his living as a high school teacher: Shlomo Aumann, Professor Yisrael Aumann's son. On the eve of the 19th of Sivan, in particularly fierce combat, Shlomo fell in battle.
Rav Gustman mobilized his yeshiva: All of his students joined him in performing the mitzvah of burying the dead. At the cemetery, Rav Gustman was agitated: He surveyed the rows of graves of the young men, soldiers who died defending the Land. On the way back from the cemetery, Rav Gustman turned to another passenger in the car and said, "They are all holy." Another passenger questioned the rabbi: "Even the non-religious soldiers?" Rav Gustman replied: "Every single one of them." He then turned to the driver and said, "Take me to Professor Aumann's home."
The family had just returned from the cemetery and would now begin the week of shiva -- mourning for their son, brother, husband and father. (Shlomo was married and had one child. His widow, Shlomit, gave birth to their second daughter shortly after he was killed.)
Rav Gustman entered and asked to sit next to Professor Aumann, who said: "Rabbi, I so appreciate your coming to the cemetery, but now is time for you to return to your Yeshiva." Rav Gustman spoke, first in Yiddish and then in Hebrew, so that all those assembled would understand:
"I am sure that you don't know this, but I had a son named Meir. He was a beautiful child. He was taken from my arms and executed. I escaped. I later bartered my child's shoes so that we would have food, but I was never able to eat the food -- I gave it away to others. My Meir is a kadosh -- he is holy -- he and all the six million who perished are holy."
Rav Gustman then added: "I will tell you what is transpiring now in the World of Truth in Gan Eden -- in Heaven. My Meir is welcoming your Shlomo into the minyan and is saying to him ‘I died because I am a Jew -- but I wasn't able to save anyone else. But you -- Shlomo, you died defending the Jewish People and the Land of Israel.' My Meir is a kadosh, he is holy -- but your Shlomo is a Shaliach Tzibbur – a Cantor in that holy, heavenly minyan."
Rav Gustman continued: "I never had the opportunity to sit shiva for my Meir; let me sit here with you just a little longer."
Professor Aumann replied, "I thought I could never be comforted, but Rebbi, you have comforted me."
Rav Gustman did not allow his painful memories to control his life. He found solace in his students, his daughter, his grandchildren, and in every Jewish child. He and his wife would attend an annual parade (on Yom Yerushalayim) where children would march on Jerusalem in song and dance. A rabbi who happened upon them one year asked the Rabbi why he spent his valuable time in such a frivolous activity. Rav Gustman explained, "We who saw a generation of children die, take pleasure in a generation of children who sing and dance in these streets."
A student once implored Rav Gustman to share his memories of the ghetto and the war more publicly and more frequently. He asked him to tell people about his son, about his son's shoes, to which the Rav replied, "I can't, but I think about those shoes every day of my life. I see them every night before I go to sleep."
On the 28th of Sivan 5751 (1991), Rav Gustman passed away. Thousands marched through the streets of Jerusalem accompanying Rav Gustman on his final journey. As night fell on the 29th of Sivan, 9 years after Shlomo Aumann fell in battle, Rav Gustman was buried on the Mount of Olives. I am sure that upon entering Heaven he was reunited with his wife, his teachers and his son Meir. I am also sure that Shlomo Aumann and all the other holy soldiers who died defending the People and the Land of Israel were there to greet this extraordinary Rabbi.
On December 10th 2005, Professor Robert J. Aumann was awarded the Nobel Prize in economics. I am sure he took with him to Stockholm memories of his late wife Esther, and his son Shlomo. I suspect he also took memories of his Rabbi, Rav Gustman.
May it be the will of God that the People of Israel sanctify His Name by living lives of holiness which will serve as a light to the nations – and may no more children, soldiers or yeshiva students ever need to join that holy minyan in Heaven.
Postscript:
The last time I saw Rav Gustman, I was walking in the Meah Shearim/Geulah section of Jerusalem with my wife and oldest son who was being pushed in a stroller. It was Friday morning and we saw the Rosh Yeshiva, we said hello, wished him "Good Shabbos." Then I did something I rarely do: I asked him to bless my son. Rav Gustman looked at the toddler, smiled and said, "May he be a boy like all the other boys."
At first, my wife and I were stunned; what kind of blessing was this? We expected a blessing that the boy grow to be a zaddik - a righteous man, or that he be a Talmid Chacham - a Torah scholar. But no, he blessed him that he should be "like all the boys."
It took many years for this beautiful blessing to make sense to us. The blessing was that he should have a normal childhood, that he have a normal life, that he have his health... Looking back, I realize what a tremendous blessing Rav Gustman gave, and why.
Today, that son - Matityahu, and our second son Hillel, are soldiers in combat units in the Israeli Defense Forces. Brave, strong, motivated and idealistic, they are wonderful soldiers, wonderful Jews. I pray that they return home safely along with all their comrades, and live normal lives - "just like all the boys."
(This article is based on a combination of first-hand knowledge and a composite reconstruction of events as retold to me.)
Editor: L-rd in Heaven, the greatness of your children draws admiration and jealousy, awe and suspicion, love and hate. We have accomplished so much in our exile, but it is no substitute for Your warm embace and protection. Please bring us back to You now, and the Nations will be forced to admit, perhaps begrudgingly but surely, that You have chosen well.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
But One Request...
"Any that stretch out their hand [on Purim], we [are to] give to him." The great Chasidic Masters extended this admonition of Purim generosity - indeed, blind generosity - to G-d Himself. If, on Purim, we extend our hand in need to G-d, He will give without inspecting our worthiness. In that spirit, I offer this Purim prayer:
"Almighty G-d, we take note this Purim of all the wondrous acts you have done for us, individually and collectively. We appreciate Your daily and your once-in-a-lifetime miracles, Your minor and major wonders, Your obvious and hidden miracles.
"We ask from You today not for thousands of interventions, not for hundreds of cures, not for a multitude of moments of good fortune. All we ask is for one intervention, one cure, one moment of good fortune - THE one intervention that will bring Your light to the darkest corner and heart, cure all the ills of the body and spirit, and bathe the entire earth in the abundance of fortune that you have waited millenia to bestow. Less than that is a half-measure unbefitting Your perfection, o Loving and Perfect G-d.
"You wait to reveal Yourself, and we wait for You to reveal Yourself. You anticipate being able to give fully, and we anticipate being fully engaged with You. You await perfecting this world, and we yearn for this Perfection.
"Please, Master of the Universe, relieve Your frustration and ours immediately with your Ultimate Redemption." Amen
"Almighty G-d, we take note this Purim of all the wondrous acts you have done for us, individually and collectively. We appreciate Your daily and your once-in-a-lifetime miracles, Your minor and major wonders, Your obvious and hidden miracles.
"We ask from You today not for thousands of interventions, not for hundreds of cures, not for a multitude of moments of good fortune. All we ask is for one intervention, one cure, one moment of good fortune - THE one intervention that will bring Your light to the darkest corner and heart, cure all the ills of the body and spirit, and bathe the entire earth in the abundance of fortune that you have waited millenia to bestow. Less than that is a half-measure unbefitting Your perfection, o Loving and Perfect G-d.
"You wait to reveal Yourself, and we wait for You to reveal Yourself. You anticipate being able to give fully, and we anticipate being fully engaged with You. You await perfecting this world, and we yearn for this Perfection.
"Please, Master of the Universe, relieve Your frustration and ours immediately with your Ultimate Redemption." Amen
Monday, March 31, 2008
Seeing Through To The Inner Jew (Purim 5768)
Everyone wears masks. The fellow in deep depression who attempts suicide, and everyone talks about how he smiled all the time. The gruff, aggressive macho man who suffers from low self-esteem and anxiety. Some may be most offended by the Global Warming Warrior globetrotting in his private plane, others by the religious or spiritual leader that is privately involved in unreligious and unspiritual activities. Either way, we know that many people aren't what they seem, and that almost all of us aren't exactly what we seem. So how can we peek behind the mask, and tell what a person truly is?
The rabbis in Talmud Eruvin provide some tools. "With three things a person is recognized," they advise. "Through koso (his "cup"), keso (his wallet) and kasso (his anger)."
Koso. When that drinking cup goes bottoms-up a few times, the person's psyche seems to get dredged bottoms-up. Underlying prejudices come out (Mel Gibson?), true feelings burst forth, and often, violent natures show through the prevailing veneer of reasonableness. To Jews protesting that there was no anti-Semitism in America, the activist Rabbi Meir Kahane hy"d would respond, "So why don't you go into a bar at one in the morning, get up on a table and announce to the assembled that you're Jewish?"
Keso. So on what do they actually spend their money? Where do they donate their charity dollars? The moderate, suburban Muslim donating heavily to the Holyland Foundation tells us more about his core than his Polo shirt and Dockers. The woman who prattles on about ecology, but won't give a penny to Save the Earth, is telling you more about how she wants to be perceived than about who she is.
Kasso. What gets you really steamed? What gets you to finally blow? Is it someone calling you fat, or someone that kicks a homeless fellow? What kinds of things are you easily able to keep your cool about? Are you okay with someone knocking all religious people, but you can't handle someone saying the Red Sox are better than the Yankees?
Go to Lakewood Yeshiva on Purim, and see fellows bombed out of their minds praying fervently to G-d for a sick friend, or hugging each other, tearfully professing their deep admiration and love.
Go to Bnei Brak, and watch as charity is given out freely, well above the means of the givers, to recipients they met moments ago, accepting their sob-stories as absolute truth.
Go to Williamsburg or Crown Heights, and watch the anger spill out against Amalek, against evil, against those that attack the vulnerable and the helpless.
This is the true heart of the Jew, overflowing with love and charity for all, the anger and hate reserved for those that represent and perpetrate evil.
You thought devout Jews put on masks on Purim? In fact, they're involved on Purim with removing them. Take a fast peek, and walk away impressed...
The rabbis in Talmud Eruvin provide some tools. "With three things a person is recognized," they advise. "Through koso (his "cup"), keso (his wallet) and kasso (his anger)."
Koso. When that drinking cup goes bottoms-up a few times, the person's psyche seems to get dredged bottoms-up. Underlying prejudices come out (Mel Gibson?), true feelings burst forth, and often, violent natures show through the prevailing veneer of reasonableness. To Jews protesting that there was no anti-Semitism in America, the activist Rabbi Meir Kahane hy"d would respond, "So why don't you go into a bar at one in the morning, get up on a table and announce to the assembled that you're Jewish?"
Keso. So on what do they actually spend their money? Where do they donate their charity dollars? The moderate, suburban Muslim donating heavily to the Holyland Foundation tells us more about his core than his Polo shirt and Dockers. The woman who prattles on about ecology, but won't give a penny to Save the Earth, is telling you more about how she wants to be perceived than about who she is.
Kasso. What gets you really steamed? What gets you to finally blow? Is it someone calling you fat, or someone that kicks a homeless fellow? What kinds of things are you easily able to keep your cool about? Are you okay with someone knocking all religious people, but you can't handle someone saying the Red Sox are better than the Yankees?
In all three of these areas, G-dfearing Jews impress, and especially so on Purim.
Go to Lakewood Yeshiva on Purim, and see fellows bombed out of their minds praying fervently to G-d for a sick friend, or hugging each other, tearfully professing their deep admiration and love.
Go to Bnei Brak, and watch as charity is given out freely, well above the means of the givers, to recipients they met moments ago, accepting their sob-stories as absolute truth.
Go to Williamsburg or Crown Heights, and watch the anger spill out against Amalek, against evil, against those that attack the vulnerable and the helpless.
This is the true heart of the Jew, overflowing with love and charity for all, the anger and hate reserved for those that represent and perpetrate evil.
You thought devout Jews put on masks on Purim? In fact, they're involved on Purim with removing them. Take a fast peek, and walk away impressed...
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Only On a Jerusalem Bus: Remembering the Eight Slain Students
by Hillel Fendel
The terrorist slaughter in Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav, in which eight budding Torah scholars were gunned down by an Arab terrorist, is constantly in the air.
A Jerusalem woman related the following:
"Every morning I take the 35 bus line to work. It's a quick ride, and usually takes no more than 12 minutes. The third stop after I get on by the shuk (Machaneh Yehuda outdoor market) is directly in front of Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav.
“This morning, I found myself a bit anxious, unsure of what I was going to see as we passed by. As I looked around, I saw death notices pasted all over the street, and flowers that had been brought lined the entrance to the Yeshiva.
“When the bus pulled up to the stop, the driver shut off the engine and stood. With tears in his eyes, he told everyone on the bus that one of the boys killed on Thursday night was his nephew. He asked if we would mind if he spoke for a few minutes in memory of his nephew and the other boys who were killed. After seeing head nods all over the bus, he began to speak.
"With a clear and proud voice, he spoke beautifully about his nephew and said that he was a person who was constantly on the lookout for how to help out anyone in need. He was always searching for a way to make things better. He loved learning, and had a passion for working out the intricacies of the Gemara (Talmud). He was excited to join the army in a few years, and wanted to eventually work in informal education.
"As he continued to speak, I noticed that the elderly woman sitting next to me was crying. I looked into my bag, reached for a tissue and passed it to her. She looked at me and told me that she too had lost someone she knew in the attack. Her neighbors' child was another one of the boys killed.
"As she held my hand tightly, she stood up and asked if she too could say a few words in memory of her neighbor. She spoke of a young man filled with a zest for life. Every Friday he would visit her with a few flowers for Shabbat and a short dvar torah (Torah thought) that he had learned that week in Yeshiva.
"This past Shabbat, she had no flowers..."
Shpoler Ainekel adds: It's worth watching this youtube video about the attacks, to get a better picture of the cruelty and butchery involved:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iekAncY7yZ0
Ribono Shel Olam (Master of the Universe), you took away our precious Dvar Torah (Torah thought), you took away our budding flowers. We ache for them back! We ask that you return them as a doubled nechama (consolation), as Tzemach Dovid Avdecha (Budding Kingship of David, Your Servant), and as Torah Chadasha maIti Taytzei ("A new level of Torah shall come forth from Me"), Amen!
The terrorist slaughter in Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav, in which eight budding Torah scholars were gunned down by an Arab terrorist, is constantly in the air.
A Jerusalem woman related the following:
"Every morning I take the 35 bus line to work. It's a quick ride, and usually takes no more than 12 minutes. The third stop after I get on by the shuk (Machaneh Yehuda outdoor market) is directly in front of Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav.
“This morning, I found myself a bit anxious, unsure of what I was going to see as we passed by. As I looked around, I saw death notices pasted all over the street, and flowers that had been brought lined the entrance to the Yeshiva.
“When the bus pulled up to the stop, the driver shut off the engine and stood. With tears in his eyes, he told everyone on the bus that one of the boys killed on Thursday night was his nephew. He asked if we would mind if he spoke for a few minutes in memory of his nephew and the other boys who were killed. After seeing head nods all over the bus, he began to speak.
"With a clear and proud voice, he spoke beautifully about his nephew and said that he was a person who was constantly on the lookout for how to help out anyone in need. He was always searching for a way to make things better. He loved learning, and had a passion for working out the intricacies of the Gemara (Talmud). He was excited to join the army in a few years, and wanted to eventually work in informal education.
"As he continued to speak, I noticed that the elderly woman sitting next to me was crying. I looked into my bag, reached for a tissue and passed it to her. She looked at me and told me that she too had lost someone she knew in the attack. Her neighbors' child was another one of the boys killed.
"As she held my hand tightly, she stood up and asked if she too could say a few words in memory of her neighbor. She spoke of a young man filled with a zest for life. Every Friday he would visit her with a few flowers for Shabbat and a short dvar torah (Torah thought) that he had learned that week in Yeshiva.
"This past Shabbat, she had no flowers..."
Shpoler Ainekel adds: It's worth watching this youtube video about the attacks, to get a better picture of the cruelty and butchery involved:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iekAncY7yZ0
Ribono Shel Olam (Master of the Universe), you took away our precious Dvar Torah (Torah thought), you took away our budding flowers. We ache for them back! We ask that you return them as a doubled nechama (consolation), as Tzemach Dovid Avdecha (Budding Kingship of David, Your Servant), and as Torah Chadasha maIti Taytzei ("A new level of Torah shall come forth from Me"), Amen!
Doron: Story of a True Tzaddik and Kadosh
by Rabbi Laizer Brody
Doron Mahareta, of blessed and saintly memory HY"D, was one of the eight Yeshiva students that were massacred last week in Yeshivat Mercaz HaRav in Jerusalem.Last night, I paid a shiva (condolence) call to Doron's family. Every single type of Jew was sitting together, from Ethiopians to Polish Chassidim, from knit kippot (skull caps) to Yerushalmi white kippot, from jeans and sandals to long black frocks. Too bad that it takes a martyr of Doron's magnitude to unite everyone.
One of the Rabbis from Mercaz HaRav told me the most amazing story you'll ever hear, about Doron's dedication to learning Torah. It is a story that competes with the Talmud's account of Hillel's near freezing, on the roof of Shmaya and Avtalion's Yeshiva (see Talmud Yoma, 35b).
Doron wanted to learn Torah in Mercaz HaRav, one of the best of Israel's Yeshivas. But, since his early schooling was in Ethiopia, he lacked a strong background in Gemara (Talmud). The Yeshiva rejected him.
He wasn't discouraged. He asked, "If you won't let me learn Torah, will you let me wash the dishes in the dining room?" For a year and a half, Doron washed dishes.
But, he spent every spare minute in the study hall. He inquired what the Yeshiva boys were learning, and spent most of the nights and all of his Shabbatot (Sabbaths) with his head in the Gemara, learning what they learned. One day, the "dish washer" asked the Rosh Yeshiva (Academy Head) to test him. The Rosh Yeshiva politely smiled and tried to gently dismiss Doron, but Doron wouldn't budge. He forced the Rosh Yeshiva into a Torah discussion; the next day, he was no longer a dish washer but a full-fledged "yeshiva bachur" (young Yeshiva student).
On weekends, when Doron would come home to visit his family in Ashdod, he'd spend the entire Shabbat either in the Melitzer Shul (Synagogue of the Melitz Hasidic sect) or the neighboring Gerrer shtiebel (prayer enclave) learning Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish Law) and its commentaries. Three weeks ago, he finished the entire Shulchan Aruch and major commentaries!
Doron achieved in his tender 26 years what many others do not attain in a long lifetime. He truly was an unblemished sacrifice, who gave his life for all of us.
The next time you feel too tired to learn, think of Doron. The next time your son doesn't feel like doing his Torah homework, tell him about the price that tzaddikim like Hillel the Elder and Doron Mahareta paid to learn Torah.
It will probably be revealed to us in the Olam haEmet (World of Truth, i.e., the World-To-Come)that Doron was a direct reincarnation of Hillel.
May his holy soul plead for the grieving nation he left behind. Amen.
BLOGGER'S NOTE:
May G-d accumulate the many sacrifices we make for him - some daily, some once-in-a-lifetime, some smaller, some huge, and send His full redemption to us speedily.
Mi keAmcha Yisroel, Goi Echad baAretz!
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