Young Israel of Sharon Yom Kippur 2018 - 5779

Articles The Moral Bucket List 18 by David Brooks (New York Times, April 11 2015) Peace of Mind: A Program for Helping Israeli Soldiers Heal 21 by Felicia Gopin A Wedding Celebration at a Soup Kitchen 23 by Elazar Abrahams (Tablet Magazine, Aug 2018) Modern Orthodoxy Has Its Costs – Not Just Financial 24 by Elli FIsher (Jewish Week, Feb 2015) On the Murder of Yitzchak Rabin 26 by Rav Ahron Lichtenstein

Special thanks to Simcha Gilden for cover design

Visit www.gildendesigns.com

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Emily and Otto Rapalino In loving memory of:

Otto’s Mother: Rosa Faur de Rapalino

23 Kislev, 5760

Otto’s Father: Teofilo Rapalino 9 Adar II, 5771

נחום דוד בן צבי משה

Charles Levine 2 Elul 5772

SILVER PATRON

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Amir Karger and Jodi Hoffman Stephanie Karger

In memory of:

יחזקאל בת חיה תשמ"ו סיון ו'

שלמה יעקב בן ישי נחום

תשנ"ה תשרי כ"א

Diana Udell תשס"א אייר כ"ו

פנחס בן הירש

תשס"א חשון ח' נתן בת ברכה

תש"ע שבט כ"ז

אריה בן חנן תשנ"ה אייר א'

ברוך בת ליזה

תשס"ג ניסן ד'

חנן בן מיכאל אריה תשע"ב י' אלול

SILVER PATRON

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Ruth, Ari, Mollie, Hillel, Elon, and Avi Schwartz

In loving memory of our son and brother:

ארי יונהבן עזרא יחיאל

כסלו 'ז

Ezra Y. Schwartz November 19th, 2015

SILVER PATRON

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Jodi, David, Josh, Adam, and Hannah Ephraim In memory of:

Mordy Ephraim 2 Adar

Beloved father and grandfather

SILVER PATRON

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Sabina and Richard Feczko In memory of:

Florence Feldstein י"ד שבט

Bernard Feldstein

כ' שבט

Joseph Schimerman י"ג שבט

Clara Schimerman

י"א אלול

Vera Feczko כ' תמוז

Joseph Feczko

א' שבט

Martin Gans ה' תמוז

Sarah Gans

כ"ה אייר

David Gans כ"ה אייר

SILVER PATRON

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Marvin Berman and Ronna Finer-Berman In memory of:

Rabbi Martin L. Applbaum

Marcia Berman Simon Berman

Ida Berman Yetta Berman

Minnie Berman Abraham Berman Lena Grossberg

Hershel Grossberg Milton Grossberg Ari Chaim Booty

Ann Finer Hy Finer

Sarah Finer Israel Sam Finer

Edith Kaplan Rita Finer

Joseph Finer Essie Finer

Celia Snyder Samuel Snyder Pamela Finer Steven Finer

Mary Rosenthal Pincus Rosenthal

Nat Rosenthal Violet Rosenthal Sydney Engler

Alice Wasserman David Wasserman

Bubbe Anna Shimshak Walter Komorsky

Julius and Sara Reitman Alan Finer

SILVER PATRON

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Jack Michael June 12, 2003

Simon Altabet

September 27, 2014

Jacqueline Michael December 20, 2016

And all Jewish victims of terror

May their memory be blessed,

The Altabet Family

TORAH PATRON

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Emunah and Zach Homa and Family

In memory of:

ואמונה מיכאל זכריה בן עזדא כלב 5771שבט 16

Kalev Ezra

January 21, 2011

Our beloved son A radiant soul

TORAH PATRON

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The Hirsch Family In memory of:

Seymour Newberger

26 Tamuz

Marion Newberger 16 Av

Lorraine Hirsch

11 Kislev

Jessie Demner 25 Cheshvan

Irving Demner

Hyman Hirsch

4 Elul

Fannie Hirsch 4 Tishrei

Rose Newberger

21 Shevat

Benjamin Newberger 12 Iyar

Myer Gross 23 Shevat

Tillie Gross 30 Shevat

Morris Hirsch

TORAH PATRON

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Naomi Korn Gold and Jason Gold In memory of:

Joseph H. Korn father

25 Adar 1

Martin Jeremias grandfather

21 Elul

Rose Korn grandmother

7 Nisan

Leo Korn grandfather

23 Adar

Jules Kaplan grandfather

Ellen Kaplan grandmother

Meyer (John) Gold

grandfather

Esther Gold grandmother

Margot Jeremias

grandmother

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Stuart Scharf and Arlene Mathes In memory of:

Chana bas Aaron HaKohen 16 Shevat

Aaron ben Eliezer HaKohen 28 Nissan

Sarah bas Yitzchak Leib 8 Iyar

Alexander ben Yoseph 8 Av

Yosef ben Nehemiah 6 Tammuz

Leah bas Eliezer HaLevi 11 Cheshvan

Matlah bas Yoda Leib 9 Adar

Raizel bas Yosef 16 Adar II

Elimelech Yerachmial ben Shimon HaLevi 13 Av

Shimon ben Dawvid HaLevi 11 Cheshvon

Yosef ben Yisrael Shoah

Dina bat Alexander Shoah

Chava bat Yosef Shoah

Erick ben Yosef Shoah

Yitzcok Leib Ben Aharon HaKohen 28 Cheshvan

Sara Rachel Bat Baruch Avraham 13 Nissan

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Katz Family

In memory of:

Samuel Kuritsky י"ז אייר

Sylvia Kuritsky

כ"ו אב

Lois Morgan ז' תמוז תשע"ה

Maurice Morgan

י"ו כסלו

Jean Morgan כ"א אייר

Thelma Abraham

ז' אב

Baruch Katz כ"ה ניסן

Anne Katz

י"ט תשרי

Harold Katz כ"ה ניסן

Barney Ruch

חשוןי"א

Bobba Tzila

Zaida Michel

Colin Ruch כ' כסלו

Stanley Ruch

כ"ג סיון

Granny Leah

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Devorah and Josh Kosowsky, Harry, Jake and Judah In memory of:

Harvey Wacks Shemini Atzeret

Judith Wacks

29 Tevet

Bernard David Kosowsky 7 Kislev

Naphtali Hertz Wacks

9 Sivan

PATRON

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The Harris Family

In memory of:

Jack Lust Feb 25

Stella Harris

Sept 23

Regina Bienenfeld 2 Adar

Leo Bienenfeld

19 Iyar

Helen Lust 19 Kislev

Israel Lust 5 Kislev

Regina Greenstein

Rosh Chodesh Adar

Sam Greenstein 6 Mar Cheshvan

Lillian Harris

21 Elul

Daid Harris 26 Adar

PATRON

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Larisa and Alex Liberman

In memory of:

Miriam (Maya) Liberman 19 Tishrei

Lubov (Luba) Breitman

7 Cheshvan

Gundal Fouchs

Vera Fouchs 16 Tevet

Malka (Mila) Liberman

16 Tevet

Kalev Ezra Homa 16 Shevat

Yehuda Liberman

24 Nisan

Mordechai Breitman 14 Iar

Yaakov Fouchs

17 Iar

Miriam Liberman 22 Av

Gersh Rozenboym

20 Elul

Gdal Liberman 20 Adar

PATRON

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The Palatinsky Family In memory of:

PATRON

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Ken and Rebecca Milgram

In memory of:

יצחק בן פסח ג"תשע אדר ה

הלוי אליעזר בת יחית גולדה ז"תשע חשון ט"כ

הלוי גימפל מרדכי בן יוסף

ז"תשע אב ט"כ

PATRON

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The Moral Bucket List David Brooks The New York Times, April 11, 2015 ABOUT once a month I run across a person who radiates an inner light. These people can be in any walk of life. They seem deeply good. They listen well. They make you feel funny and valued. You often catch them looking after other people and as they do so their laugh is musical and their manner is infused with gratitude. They are not thinking about what wonderful work they are doing. They are not thinking about themselves at all. When I meet such a person it brightens my whole day. But I confess I often have a sadder thought: It occurs to me that I've achieved a decent level of career success, but I have not achieved that. I have not achieved that generosity of spirit, or that depth of character. A few years ago I realized that I wanted to be a bit more like those people. I realized that if I wanted to do that I was going to have to work harder to save my own soul. I was going to have to have the sort of moral adventures that produce that kind of goodness. I was going to have to be better at balancing my life. It occurred to me that there were two sets of virtues, the résumé virtues and the eulogy virtues. The résumé virtues are the skills you bring to the marketplace. The eulogy virtues are the ones that are talked about at your funeral - whether you were kind, brave, honest or faithful. Were you capable of deep love? We all know that the eulogy virtues are more important than the résumé ones. But our culture and our educational systems spend more time teaching the skills and strategies you need for career success than the qualities you need to radiate that sort of inner light. Many of us are clearer on how to build an external career than on how to build inner character. But if you live for external achievement, years pass and the deepest parts of you go unexplored and unstructured. You lack a moral vocabulary. It is easy to slip into a self-satisfied moral mediocrity. You grade yourself on a forgiving curve. You figure as long as you are not obviously hurting anybody and people seem to like you, you must be O.K. But you live with an unconscious boredom, separated from the deepest meaning of life and the highest moral joys. Gradually, a humiliating gap opens between your actual self and your desired self, between you and those incandescent souls you sometimes meet. So a few years ago I set out to discover how those deeply good people got that way. I didn't know if I could follow their road to character (I'm a pundit, more or less paid to appear smarter and better than I really am). But I at least wanted to know what the road looked like. I came to the conclusion that wonderful people are made, not born - that the people I admired had achieved an unfakeable inner virtue, built slowly from specific moral and spiritual accomplishments. If we wanted to be gimmicky, we could say these accomplishments amounted to a moral bucket list, the experiences one should have on the way toward the richest possible inner life. Here, quickly, are some of them: THE HUMILITY SHIFT We live in the culture of the Big Me. The meritocracy wants you to promote yourself. Social media wants you to broadcast a highlight reel of your life. Your parents and teachers were always telling you how wonderful you were. But all the people I've ever deeply admired are profoundly honest about their own weaknesses. They have identified their core sin, whether it is selfishness, the desperate need for approval, cowardice, hardheartedness or whatever. They have traced how that core sin leads to the behavior that makes them feel ashamed. They have achieved a profound humility, which has best been defined as an intense self-awareness from a position of other-centeredness. SELF-DEFEAT External success is achieved through competition with others. But character is built during the confrontation with your own weakness. Dwight Eisenhower, for example, realized early on that his core sin was his temper. He developed a moderate, cheerful exterior because he knew he needed to project

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optimism and confidence to lead. He did silly things to tame his anger. He took the names of the people he hated, wrote them down on slips of paper and tore them up and threw them in the garbage. Over a lifetime of self-confrontation, he developed a mature temperament. He made himself strong in his weakest places. THE DEPENDENCY LEAP Many people give away the book "Oh, the Places You'll Go!" as a graduation gift. This book suggests that life is an autonomous journey. We master certain skills and experience adventures and certain challenges on our way to individual success. This individualist worldview suggests that character is this little iron figure of willpower inside. But people on the road to character understand that no person can achieve self-mastery on his or her own. Individual will, reason and compassion are not strong enough to consistently defeat selfishness, pride and self-deception. We all need redemptive assistance from outside. People on this road see life as a process of commitment making. Character is defined by how deeply rooted you are. Have you developed deep connections that hold you up in times of challenge and push you toward the good? In the realm of the intellect, a person of character has achieved a settled philosophy about fundamental things. In the realm of emotion, she is embedded in a web of unconditional loves. In the realm of action, she is committed to tasks that can't be completed in a single lifetime. ENERGIZING LOVE Dorothy Day led a disorganized life when she was young: drinking, carousing, a suicide attempt or two, following her desires, unable to find direction. But the birth of her daughter changed her. She wrote of that birth, "If I had written the greatest book, composed the greatest symphony, painted the most beautiful painting or carved the most exquisite figure I could not have felt the more exalted creator than I did when they placed my child in my arms." That kind of love decenters the self. It reminds you that your true riches are in another. Most of all, this love electrifies. It puts you in a state of need and makes it delightful to serve what you love. Day's love for her daughter spilled outward and upward. As she wrote, "No human creature could receive or contain so vast a flood of love and joy as I often felt after the birth of my child. With this came the need to worship, to adore." She made unshakable commitments in all directions. She became a Catholic, started a radical newspaper, opened settlement houses for the poor and lived among the poor, embracing shared poverty as a way to build community, to not only do good, but be good. This gift of love overcame, sometimes, the natural self-centeredness all of us feel. THE CALL WITHIN THE CALL We all go into professions for many reasons: money, status, security. But some people have experiences that turn a career into a calling. These experiences quiet the self. All that matters is living up to the standard of excellence inherent in their craft. Frances Perkins was a young woman who was an activist for progressive causes at the start of the 20th century. She was polite and a bit genteel. But one day she stumbled across the Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire, and watched dozens of garment workers hurl themselves to their deaths rather than be burned alive. That experience shamed her moral sense and purified her ambition. It was her call within a call. After that, she turned herself into an instrument for the cause of workers' rights. She was willing to work with anybody, compromise with anybody, push through hesitation. She even changed her appearance so she could become a more effective instrument for the movement. She became the first woman in a United States cabinet, under Franklin D. Roosevelt, and emerged as one of the great civic figures of the 20th century. THE CONSCIENCE LEAP In most lives there's a moment when people strip away all the branding and status symbols, all the prestige that goes with having gone to a certain school or been born into a certain family. They leap out beyond the utilitarian logic and crash through the barriers of their fears. The novelist George Eliot (her real name was Mary Ann Evans) was a mess as a young woman, emotionally needy, falling for every man she met and being rejected. Finally, in her mid-30s she met a guy named George Lewes. Lewes was estranged from his wife, but legally he was married. If Eliot went with Lewes she would be labeled an adulterer by society. She'd lose her friends, be cut off by her family. It took her a week to

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decide, but she went with Lewes. "Light and easily broken ties are what I neither desire theoretically nor could live for practically. Women who are satisfied with such ties do not act as I have done," she wrote. She chose well. Her character stabilized. Her capacity for empathetic understanding expanded. She lived in a state of steady, devoted love with Lewes, the kind of second love that comes after a person is older, scarred a bit and enmeshed in responsibilities. He served her and helped her become one of the greatest novelists of any age. Together they turned neediness into constancy. Commencement speakers are always telling young people to follow their passions. Be true to yourself. This is a vision of life that begins with self and ends with self. But people on the road to inner light do not find their vocations by asking, what do I want from life? They ask, what is life asking of me? How can I match my intrinsic talent with one of the world's deep needs? Their lives often follow a pattern of defeat, recognition, redemption. They have moments of pain and suffering. But they turn those moments into occasions of radical self-understanding - by keeping a journal or making art. As Paul Tillich put it, suffering introduces you to yourself and reminds you that you are not the person you thought you were. The people on this road see the moments of suffering as pieces of a larger narrative. They are not really living for happiness, as it is conventionally defined. They see life as a moral drama and feel fulfilled only when they are enmeshed in a struggle on behalf of some ideal. This is a philosophy for stumblers. The stumbler scuffs through life, a little off balance. But the stumbler faces her imperfect nature with unvarnished honesty, with the opposite of squeamishness. Recognizing her limitations, the stumbler at least has a serious foe to overcome and transcend. The stumbler has an outstretched arm, ready to receive and offer assistance. Her friends are there for deep conversation, comfort and advice. External ambitions are never satisfied because there's always something more to achieve. But the stumblers occasionally experience moments of joy. There's joy in freely chosen obedience to organizations, ideas and people. There's joy in mutual stumbling. There's an aesthetic joy we feel when we see morally good action, when we run across someone who is quiet and humble and good, when we see that however old we are, there's lots to do ahead. The stumbler doesn't build her life by being better than others, but by being better than she used to be. Unexpectedly, there are transcendent moments of deep tranquillity. For most of their lives their inner and outer ambitions are strong and in balance. But eventually, at moments of rare joy, career ambitions pause, the ego rests, the stumbler looks out at a picnic or dinner or a valley and is overwhelmed by a feeling of limitless gratitude, and an acceptance of the fact that life has treated her much better than she deserves. Those are the people we want to be.

David Brooks is an Op-Ed columnist and the author, most recently, of "The Road to Character," from which this essay is adapted.

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Peace of Mind: A Program for Helping Israeli Soldiers Heal Felicia Gopin

*We will be hosting a Peace of Mind group soon after the Chagim Below are a series of blog posts from Felicia Gopin who is the Executive Director of Peace of Mind Canada, an organization that is dedicated to facilitating emotional and psychological support for discharged IDF elite combat soldiers who have undergone difficult battle situations. Units of approximately 15-20 young men participate in the POM program for one week of intensive group therapy and bonding with the Jewish community. This unique 9- month long process includes orientation and concluding sessions in Israel, 3-month interval follow-ups and individualized therapy for those who require further interventions. The bond between discharged IDF soldiers and Jews in the Diaspora As a Jew living in the Diaspora, I have always had a deep regard and affection for the soldiers of the IDF. In my youth they took on the form of superheroes fighting for the safety of the state of Israel and for all Jews around the world. They were fearless warriors carrying out dangerous and secret missions that were unprecedented in their inventiveness and degrees of risk. Now, as an older adult, I see them as the young men and women that they are; ruddy faced and innocent in so many ways but with an air of determination and purpose. When we visit Israel and see scores of soldiers standing at the side of the road looking for a ride or simply walking along the streets of Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, their guns at their sides, those of us who live outside of this incredible country are in awe of these brave young soldiers and have an overwhelming desire to reach out and convey our appreciation for their service. Few of us are able to demonstrate the enormous gratitude that we have for their sacrifice, so I feel very fortunate, indeed, that I have been given the opportunity to facilitate that desire here in Canada. Connecting former elite IDF combat units and families in Toronto, in a very personal way, is truly an honour and extremely rewarding. From the moment a unit of discharged soldiers lands at Pearson International Airport and walks through the sliding doors at arrivals, something very magical takes place. An intangible bond begins to form between the visitors and their hosts. The Israelis are, more often than not, at a complete loss as to why they are greeted with such warmth and unconditional acceptance. We are strangers to them, yet we behave as though they are our long lost sons and brothers as we embrace them and invite them into our homes. Even after they leave us, we continue the friendship that was nurtured in such a short period of time by keeping in touch via Skype, email, telephone and endless visits to Israel. It is this unbreakable bond that we have for one another that sets us apart from other nations. We know, on some level, that these young men could easily be our own sons and therefore we have this innate need to protect and defend them. We were all glued to the Internet and to our television sets last summer during Operation Protective Edge and wept at the news of each fallen IDF soldier. They are strangers only in a literal sense for when we look at their young faces, we see our own children. Israel is not simply a country in the Middle East for many Jews living in the Diaspora, Israel is our home and we will do whatever we can to contribute to its economy and to support the land of our ancestors in an emotional and philosophical way. The bottom line is that Israel’s existence is critical to our own existence and this bond can never be broken. Peace of Mind for discharged IDF soldiers There is a Facebook page dedicated to memorializing the fallen IDF soldiers of Operation Protective Edge. Each day as I click my way through posts of cats, BDS vitriol, the saga that is the US election and various offerings that range from the ridiculous to the sublime, I am hit with the faces of young men smiling or looking, pensive as they pose for the camera in their uniforms, all of them emanating pride and strength. “Hit” is a fitting word, it is a battering blow to the heart when viewing these faces and reading the captions below their pictures, “May your memory be a blessing” “He who gave his life in Gaza”. “We honour your sacrifice”. The 64 brave warriors who gave their lives for the State of Israel are not just names on some sort of macabre list. Reading about who they were and how they were killed brings them back to life if only for a moment and reminds us of the promising young men that they were. Most of us in North America, reading

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these stories, did not have a personal relationship with these soldiers, but the tiny snippet of information that their mothers, fathers, wives, girlfriends and friends share about them, gives us a forum to proclaim that we recognize their service and sacrifice and that they will not be forgotten. Just as it is incumbent upon all Jews to remember the sacrifice of the fallen soldiers of Operation Protective Edge and the sacrifice of every IDF soldier who has lost his life defending Israel since 1948, so too should we remember those who survived the battle but are struggling to come to terms with the loss of their IDF brothers taken much too soon, and how the survivors must now live with the memories that continually hover just below the surface. These are battle scars that are not visible to the outside world and, more often than not, to even those who are the carriers of those wounds. Human beings are phenomenally resilient and are able to bury even the most nightmarish of memories and experiences. We know enough about psychology to recognize that this is a defense mechanism – a way to cope with things that are just too painful and difficult to confront. However, it is critical that we pay attention to the young men who come back from the battle with emotional and psychological scars so that we can help them to heal and reach their fullest potential. We cannot allow Israel to suffer a double loss – the loss of those who are mortally wounded during war and those who are psychologically and emotionally wounded from the battle. Like Jews have done for thousands of years, we must encourage and help our discharged soldiers defy adversity, face the pain of loss and find comfort in the knowledge that they are not alone. It is said that it takes a village to raise a child. It can also be said that it takes a global village – Israel, Europe and North American Jewry to recognize the suffering of the IDF’s discharged soldiers and to facilitate the healing of these brave young men who have fought not only for Israel but also for all Jews in the Diaspora. Destigmatizing mental health care for discharged IDF soldiers On January 25th, Bell Canada kicks off its “Let’s Talk” initiative to destigmatize mental illness. Historically, and until recently, mental health issues were regarded very differently than physical ailments. Society is sympathetic and accepting of those who have visible illnesses, however those who are struggling with mental health issues tend to be perceived as weak and lacking resilience. If someone is brave enough to seek help for issues like depression, anxiety, bipolar and eating disorders, substance abuse and ptsd, they are often told to “snap out of it “and that it is, ironically, “all in their head”. Negative attitudes towards those who are struggling with mental health issues result in feelings of shame, disgrace and inadequacy, which prevent many people from seeking therapeutic interventions that they require. It is difficult for those who are suffering to find the courage to accept help and even more so for those in the military. A soldier is expected to be strong mentally and physically. If a person chooses to enlist, then surely he/she understands the risks and perils that enlistment entails. The rationale is that a soldier knows that he/she could experience difficult battle situations and, therefore, should be prepared. Even those who are conscripted into the army like the young men and women of the IDF are expected, as well trained warriors who are equipped with the knowledge of, and proficient in, the art of war, to move on with their lives after traumatic experiences. It is a due to these presumptions and misconceptions that many IDF soldiers and discharged soldiers are unwilling to seek or receive treatment and thus suffer in silence. Furthermore, important factors that prevent Israeli soldiers from seeking care is concerns over maintaining their careers in the military, disapproval on a cultural level and a reluctance to be medicated. It is this systemic disapproval that makes interventions such as the Peace of Mind program critical to the well-being of Israel’s discharged combat soldiers. It allows those who participate in this initiative to discuss traumatic experiences in a safe environment, surrounded by those who fought along with them during the battle. Participants are able to unburden themselves and confront, amongst other things, feelings of survivor’s guilt, sadness and stress. Additionally, they receive coping mechanisms that can be implemented in daily life and during their reserve duty. The outcome is extraordinary and life changing for the vast majority of the men and women who participate in the program. Other discharged soldiers who are also suffering from their emotional/psychological battle wounds learn about the benefits of the program from past participants, and this word of mouth affirmation paves the way for more combat units to come forward. Cultural and societal attitudes with regard to mental illness must change so that those who are shouldering the burden of wartime experiences are able to speak up without fear of reprisals, judgment and negative labels. Programs and initiatives that destigmatize mental health issues is a vital step towards giving those voices that have been silenced far too long, an opportunity to be heard. Let’s talk.

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A Wedding Celebration at a Soup Kitchen

Elazar Abrahams, Tablet Magazine: August 27, 2018

All weddings can burn a hole in your pocket, but for Orthodox couples, the celebration doesn’t end the morning after. For seven straight days after a traditional Jewish marriage, each night is another joyous, and often costly, get-together. Relatives and close friends of the newlyweds take it upon themselves to make sure each Sheva Brachot meal is accounted for.

At their best, Sheva Brachot are an opportunity to extend festivities another week, where each dinner is followed by the same seven blessings recited at the wedding. Unfortunately, it is all too common for the gatherings to devolve into the seven hosts’ trying to best each other for lavishness. At its worst, it’s a status competition judged by who can rack up the most expensive bill.

When Eli Reiter was planning his brother and sister-in-law’s fourth outing last Tuesday, he knew the guests had already sat through several upscale eateries. So rather than spend his money on another high-priced party, he reached out to Brooklyn’s Masbia, NYC’s only kosher soup kitchen, and asked if they would be interested in hosting. “We’re socially expected to spend money on things no one cares about,” Reiter observed. “This is something that actually matters.”

Masbia loved the idea. “We’re all about enlivening the atmosphere,” executive director Alex Rapaport said. “Masbia isn’t run like a typical ‘soup kitchen.'”

It’s true. Wandering into the dining room, one could easily confuse it for a commercial restaurant. Squeaky clean floors, artful decor, and waiter service are a staple in all three locations, allowing the clientele to feel dignified. Founded as a single storefront in 2005 by Mordechai Mandelbaum, a Hasidic Brooklynite, Masbia has since expanded its network to three locations. Five hundred hot meals are served nightly from Sunday to Thursday, and residents can pick up frozen meals on Thursday night for the Sabbath, on which the kitchen is closed. Notably, the menu is improvised based on what type of donated groceries and produce arrive each morning, but the dishes always vary, even with limited ingredients (for example, sweet carrots one afternoon, salty the next).

All the money that would have been spent on a typical Sheva Brachot affair was donated to the charity. The Reiters sponsored everyone’s three-course meal, and secured a musician and photographer, who lent their services free of charge. After vegetable soup, mashed potatoes and roasted chicken were brought to the guests, with assorted fruits and hot tea available for dessert. The attire on display was a testament to how diverse a community Masbia serves: Hasidic garb blended with shorts and T-shirts.

It was clear that the regulars enjoyed the party. Over joyous music, some “customers” even joined the Reiters’ large table and dined with the bride and groom.

“I’m thrilled we did this,” Tzippy, the bride, said. She hopes the idea catches on and other young couples decide to give back to the community. “This was my favorite night of Sheva Brachot. No sacrifice was made,” the groom, Yitzchak, added. “We appreciated the patrons’ presence more than they appreciated ours.”

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Modern Orthodoxy Has Its Costs – Not Just Financial Elli Fischer The Jewish Week / Tue, 02/24/2015 Modern Orthodoxy in America is an elitist phenomenon. According to the well-known 2013 Pew survey of American Jews, it represents less than 10 percent of the Jewish population but is the best-educated and has the largest percentage of high-income earners. No group in the Jewish community puts more of a premium on ethical life, intellectual curiosity, Israel or community. In the aggregate, Modern Orthodoxy espouses more “essentials” of Jewish identity than any other segment, and by a wide margin. Its adherents are most likely to understand Judaism as both ethnicity and religion (a mature and correct understanding of reality). This is all in addition to the large families and high rate of day school attendance that characterize Orthodoxy in general. As its name indicates, a multiplicity of emphases and core values is characteristic of Modern Orthodoxy. It follows that if Modern Orthodoxy is elitist, it is also very expensive. An old joke among its adherents has it that day school tuition is the best form of birth control. Some writers have begun to notice as well: According to a widely discussed article by Dmitriy Shapiro, families can find themselves struggling even with annual household incomes as high as $300,000. That such large incomes are barely sufficient is only part of a larger problem. The other side of the coin is that Orthodox parents, as stated by the Orthodox Union’s Nathan Diament in the Shapiro article, are “driven to higher paying professions,” specifically law, medicine and finance. A community that constrains the career choices of its young people incurs a cost that cannot be measured only in dollars and cents. In a 2012 essay, Rabbi Aryeh Klapper enumerated several “moral” costs of rising day school tuition; among them was encouraging young Jews to pursue only those professions that will support the chosen lifestyle. We can understand why pressuring someone into an unsuitable career would be considered immoral, but beyond the disservice to individuals, the community as a whole pays a steep price. Take, for instance, the case of Joseph Cedar, an American-born acclaimed Israeli filmmaker who is observant. At first glance, he is a Modern Orthodox dream come true. Last year, during an interview, I asked him whether he thought the same career avenues would have been open to him had his parents not moved to Israel. He responded that he asks himself the same question all the time, and that no, he does not think he could have managed his particular balancing act had he grown up in the United States. That is, the pressure to produce high earners discourages and marginalizes those members of the community whose calling is in music, literature and the visual or performing arts. The problem is not only that creative types will likely be unable to afford the Modern Orthodox lifestyle; the community itself tends to marginalize those who pursue artistic careers, viewing them as irresponsible. Some creative types will gravitate toward the rabbinate or Jewish education, careers that can offer a creative outlet, financial incentive in the form of tuition reductions, and social acceptability. Many will either give in to the pressure to pursue a stable, lucrative career, or leave Orthodoxy behind. Some will move to Israel, where artistic careers are more acceptable and where, despite the economic challenges it poses, Jewish religious education is free. The Jewish state is also home to a variety of high schools and colleges for the visual arts specifically geared to Orthodox students. Yarmulkes and other Orthodox paraphernalia are ubiquitous in Israel’s music scene — from classical to jazz to pop — which in turn has been tapping into Jewish liturgical and poetic traditions. In Israel, the head of a yeshiva is also a best-selling and award-winning novelist. In America, we get excited about holiday-themed a cappella parodies, newly (and briefly) observant reggae artists, paint-the-parsha programs, and novelists who do not know the difference between Tosafot and the Tosefta but know and use a dozen Yiddish words for genitalia.

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A reader might be tempted to ask: “So what?” As long as Modern Orthodoxy is producing rabbis, teachers and enough big earners to support the community’s infrastructure and personnel, does it matter that it is not producing playwrights, poets and pianists? It does. Modern Orthodoxy is, or ought to be, a rich and challenging lifestyle that profoundly engages a broad range of thick Jewish experiences. It has a great deal to offer the Jewish world and the broader religious world. But without a vibrant creative class, there is no communal unpacking of that experience, no collective expression or catharsis, no mirror to show the community how it looks from the outside, no legacy of the community’s unique contributions. There is a personal dimension here as well. Soon after moving to Israel, I changed careers, from the rabbinate to writing. For the most part, I earn a living by translating, yet I still aspire, even as I push 40, to become a full-time writer, and I hope that my writing challenges readers, sparks interesting and important conversations, and occasionally blows people away with its insight and wit. If I were to move back to the U.S., I would have to give up these pursuits — this calling — to sustain a Modern Orthodox lifestyle. Is there a remedy, or will Modern Orthodoxy export and outsource creativity to Israel? Let this important conversation begin.

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On the Murder of Yitzchak Rabin Rav Ahron Lichtenstein On Monday, 20 Cheshvan (November 13), the Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Aharon Lichtenstein, addressed the Yeshiva. Having been in America during the week of the murder of Prime Minister Yitzchak Rabin, this was his first opportunity, nine days later, to speak in the beit midrash about this event and its impact on the lives of us all. The purpose of the sicha, at this relatively late date, was neither to express protest and shock, nor, as Rav Lichtenstein mentioned at the outset, to serve as a eulogy for the Prime Minister. For more than a week, the Yeshiva students, like the rest of the country, had grappled with unprecedented questions of guilt, doubt, and shame in a national atmosphere which included collective recrimination and accusation. One day earlier, we had witnessed eighteen armed police accompanying a teacher in the Yeshiva who had received telephone death threats. Speaking for an hour and a half, Rav Lichtenstein concentrated only on the self- examination that we must conduct and how this can be done. I spoke last week in Teaneck, referring to the funeral of Sarahin this week's parasha. Avraham spoke of hesped and bekhi, of eulogy and weeping. Hesped relates to the past, to an assessment of the individual, his personality and his achievements; bekhi to the sorrow and the pain of the present. There, I tried to do both. Here, forpeople who are far more familiar with the facts, and where there areothers, like Rav Amital, who knew the Prime Minister better, I will leave out the hesped and go straight to the bekhi.

There are many reasons to cry, to mourn. First, we must not lose sight of the personal aspect, the family's loss, even when there is a national public aspect. The first and most immediate loss is suffered by those closest. Nevertheless, for us, the public side is the most important. Here we have undoubtedly suffered a grievous loss. It is rare to find someone with such a level of leadership: the combination of military background and over twenty years of political statesmanship, and the ability to lead and inspire confidence, to steer a course in turbulent and dangerous waters towards a shore whose safety is itself questionable.

Aside from this, there is a special source of worry for those to whom the settlement of Yehuda and Shomron is important. This is paradoxical, since the fiercest opposition to his leadership arose from precisely those ranks. It is clear, though, that within his government, Yitzchak Rabin was he who more than anyone else cared for and protected the settlements, and hence will be missed by us, more than by others, for just this reason. But even more, within the peace process there is importance not just to what is given back, but also to how it is given back, not just to the contents of policy but to how it is carried out. In this respect, objectively speaking, if we arise above the opposition to the policy, Rabin was the proponent of this policy as a necessary compromise, with pain, with real feeling for the nature of the loss, more than anyone else involved in the process. This was not, perhaps, to the extent we would have liked, but nonetheless, he had a real feeling for the values we hold. Recently, out of frustration and in the heat of the argument, he made several statements which expressed disregard for the value of Eretz Yisrael, which I am sure he undoubtedly regretted afterwards. Nonetheless, in summary, his genuine feeling for our values will be missed by all of us, whether we support territorial compromise or not.

All this would be true if he had died naturally. The circumstances of his cold-blooded murder, though, are a source of great pain and distress for us. Last week I visited mori ve-rabi Harav Aharon Soloveitchik shlit"a, whose fierce opposition to the peace process is well-known. As soon as I walked in, he repeated over and over - "A badge of shame, a badge of shame." For two days, he hadn't slept, out of shame and humiliation. This shame, that our state, our people, should have fallen to such a level, should be felt by everyone - religious, secular, right and left. For to the extent that we feel any sense of unity within Am Yisrael, to the extent that we feel like a single body, then the entire body should feel shamed and pained no matter which limb is responsible for this tragedy. We should feel deep shame that this method of supposedly solving conflicts has become part of our culture. But naturally, this shame should be felt by our camp, the National Religious camp, more than any other. Here was a man who grew up in the best of our institutions. A day before the murder, he could have been cited as a shining example of success and achievement, and a source of communal pride. Coming from a "deprived" background, he studied in a Yeshiva High School, attended a great Yeshivat Hesder, and was accepted to the most prestigious division of Bar-Ilan University.

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Today, we hide behind the phrases, "a wild weed," "from the outskirts of our society." But if a day before the murder we would have said proudly, "See what we have produced," we must say it now as well - "See what we have produced!" It is indefensible that one who is willing to take credit when the sun is shining should shrug off responsibility when it begins to rain. Let us face our responsibility not defensively, but as Chazal would see it. I cite words which are so terrible it frightens me to say them. I am not saying that we should apply them literally, but let us examine how Chazal see such things and what is their standard of responsibility.

Concerning one who worships the Molekh, the verse says, "I shall put my face against that man and his family (Lev. 20:5)." The gemara asks, "If he sinned, did his family sin? This teaches you that there is no family that includes an extortionist where they are not all extortionists, and none that includes a robber where they are not all robbers - because they protect him (Shevuot 39a)."

Let us not fool ourselves - to a great extent we are all his family. Protection is not only after the fact, but also before; not only cover-up, but also nourishment and support. Can we honestly say that what the murderer did was "despite" his education, in the same way that some yeshiva graduates are no longer Shabbat-observers? In that case it is clear that the choice is "despite" the education. Is not here the choice, at least partly, not "despite" but "because?"

The gemara in Yoma (23a-b) relates: "It happened once that two Kohanim (priests) were running evenly up the ramp [of the altar in the Temple, in order to be first and thus be the one to perform the sacrificial service of the day.] One of them intruded within the four cubits of the other. He drew a knife and plunged it into his heart. R. Zadok stood on the steps of the Sanctuary and said: My brothers, the House of Israel, pay heed! It is written, 'If one be found slain in the land [and it is not known who the killer is]... your elders and judges shall go out...[and the elders of the town nearest the corpse shall... break a heifer's neck... and wash their hands... and declare: Our hands did not shed this blood...](Deut. 21:1-9).' In our case, who should bring the egla arufa (broken-necked heifer), the city or the azarot (Temple courtyards)? And the people burst out crying. The father of the [slain] youth came and found him in his death- throes. He said, 'May he be your atonement - my son is yet in his death-throes and the knife is not yet defiled!' This teaches us that ritual purity was more serious in their eyes than bloodshed. And thus it is written (2 Kings 21:16), 'And also Menashe spilled very much innocent blood, until Jerusalem was filled from end to end.'"

The gemara proceeds to ask: we know that egla arufa is not brought in Jerusalem, so what room is there for R Zadok's question? Furthermore, is not egla arufa brought only in a case where we don't know who the murderer is? Here we all know - the deed was done in public! The answer is, R Zadok said this "in order to increase the weeping." Is the gemara suggesting that R. Zadok distorted the law for emotional effect? No! R. Zadok is making a point. The principle behind egla arufa is collective guilt. When there is a known murderer, then on a technical-legal level, he takes the guilt. If not, it is attached to the whole city, to the community, to the elders. Collective guilt is not established in order to remove or excuse individual responsibility. Family, society, upbringing and climate do not remove personal guilt. Jewish tradition insists on personal responsibility. But egla arufa teaches that there is another level - that beyond the individual guilt, there also is a level of collective guilt.

One priest stabbed the other. Do the other priests say, "He was just a wild weed which somehow sprouted in our midst," and return to their everyday pursuits? Do they say, "He was a lone madman," and go home? R. Zadok is saying that this act wasn't DESPITE us; this was, partially, BECAUSE. Did the kohen kill because he rejected sanctity and opposed the service in the Temple, or rather precisely because of his passion and love for the service of God? God forbid that we should say that his teachers taught him that killing another human being is an acceptable way to express devotion to God. But they were undoubtedly responsible for emphasizing one side - the importance of competitiveness, of devotion, of striving and commitment, of zeal and ardor, without sufficiently emphasizing the corresponding importance of brotherhood, love, and respect, which must accompany the honest, pure, good, holy and exalted desire to serve God.

The gemara proceeds to relate that the father of the victim, himself a priest, demanded the removal of the sacrificial knife before his son was completely dead, in order to prevent its ritual defilement. "The purity of the knife was more important to them than murder." The gemara (23b) understands that there is an

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educational imbalance here and asks - did they overvalue ritual purity or undervalue the sanctity of life? Where was the educational flaw? The conclusion is that it was human life that they failed sufficiently to value, and not that they exaggerated the value of ritual purity.

In any event, and in either case, the youth was dead, and R. Zadok stands and says - we have educated properly for some religious values, but in the end this is murder. Don't fool yourselves into thinking that this is a case of one wild weed, that the murderer is known and bears all responsibility by himself. What has this to do with egla arufa? Even when technically the murderer is known, the principle of egla arufa still applies, because his actions derive from something we taught or failed to teach.

R. Zadok asked, "Who will bring the egla arufa - the city or the azarot (temple courtyards)?" - and the people couldn't answer, but burst out crying. What is the meaning of "city" and "azarot?"

The murderer draws from two environments, two frameworks. One, wide and encompassing, is the city - society as a whole, verbal violence in the Knesset and wife-murder in the home, the lack of tolerance and a sense of arrogance. But R. Zadok was honest and moral enough to know that perhaps we cannot blame only the community at large. Perhaps we must also blame the Temple courtyards, the environment of the priests and Levites, the environs of holiness and sanctity. Why did the people burst out in tears? Not because they didn't know which environment is responsible, but rather because they all knew, instinctively and intuitively, that the real answer is both - and neither can avoid responsibility.

There are many of us for whom it is convenient to sever the connection of the city and the azara. The city is them: television, decadent music, pub-culture, and corruption; the azarot are us. To some extent, this is true. There does exist an element in general culture which is the opposite of Jewish values, which sees itself, today more than ever, as engaged in a campaign to uproot and destroy anything with a glimmer of holiness. But God forbid that we should try, or even want, to detach azara from city. There are some of us who rejoice at every chance to point out the drugs, the prostitution, or the violence in the wider community, so we can say, "Look at the difference between US and THEM" - look at the statistics, look at Dizengoff, look at their family lives. Remember - the people on Dizengoff aren't foreigners; they are our flesh and blood. It is our city and it should hurt; it cannot be a source of joy, of satisfaction, of self- congratulation and gloating. We should cry over the lack of values. And if, indeed, part of what has happened is the result of the culture of the city - and I think this is undoubtedly so - we are also part of the city, and we too must take part in the city's egla arufa.

There is, of course, a difference between the city and the azara. We see ourselves - justly! justly! - as residents specifically of the azara, the keepers of the flame. But that is precisely why we have a special responsibility, because part of the zeal of that kohen who murdered comes from his also having been a resident of the azara, from his desire to be first to the altar. Therefore, beyond our responsibility to bring an egla arufa as members of the city, we must also bring an egla arufa specifically as members of the azara. It is no wonder, then, that all the people burst out in tears.

One may ask, but what is wrong with our values? We try to educate people to strive for holiness, to love Eretz Yisrael, Am Yisrael, Torat Yisrael - shall we then stop adhering to and teaching these values? Shall we abandon the azara? God forbid! - not the azara, not ezrat nashim, not the heikhal, surely not the Holy of Holies, not Har haBayit, not one rung of the ten rungs of holiness of Eretz Yisrael. But if we indeed strive for completeness, if we want to adhere to all these values, then we must at all times keep in mind the whole picture, the balance and interplay between these values. Have we done enough to ensure that our approach to each aspect of our sacred values is balanced? Perhaps even if we have indeed taught the evil of bloodshed - we have exaggerated, as that terrible gemara suggests, the value of ritual purity.

There are several points I would suggest as worthy of reflection. First: the self-confidence that arises from commitment and devotion to a world of values and eternal truths - whether in terms of Torat Yisrael or Eretz Yisrael - sometimes has led to frightening levels of self-certainty and ultimately to arrogance. This arrogance has sometimes led us to act without sufficient responsibility for other people, and at times even without responsibility to other values. "We are good, we have values, and they are worthless" - this attitude has seeped deeper and deeper into our consciousness.

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Secondly, at times we have promoted simplicity and shallowness. Pragmatically, this has a greater chance of success than teaching complexity and deliberation. A simple direct message, appealing to one emotion and calling "After me!" will have more followers than the injunction to think, consider, analyze and investigate. Uncomplicated directives excite more passion than a balanced and complex approach, which confronts questions of competing spiritual values and of competing national interests. Because we wanted our youth to strive, to run up the altar, we not only promoted simplistic slogans, but also a simplistic lifestyle. Once, shocked to my core, I walked out of a meeting of religious educators where a teacher said that although we know that the Ramban and the Rambam disagree about the nature of the mitzva to settle the Land of Israel, we must keep this information to ourselves, lest we lower the enthusiasm of our youth and dampen their fervor. Here we aren't delegitimizing Dizengoff; we are delegitimizing the Rambam!

Third, sometimes we taught our students to belittle and suspect others. One who doesn't agree with us is criminal, not merely mistaken. Any opportunity to credit a public leader with good intention was rejected in order to credit him with alienation, with hostility, with malice - not a suspicion of evil, but a certainty! From this way of thinking, horrible things can result. The Sifre (Shoftim 43) to the verse, "If there be a man who hates his fellow and he ambushed him and rose against him and mortally struck him and he died," states, "Based on this, it is said: If a man transgresses a minor precept, he will eventually transgress a major one... If he transgresses 'You shall love your fellow as yourself,' he will eventually transgress 'You shall not hate' and 'You shall not revenge'...until he finally spills blood." From a sin of the heart, an attitude, from not enough love, Chazal see a straight path to the ultimate sin of murder.

I am not coming to delegitimize our entire educational system or ideology - it certainly contains much that is wonderful. But I do mean to say that we cannot claim that this murderer was a "wild weed;" we must bring an egla arufa on behalf of the azarot as well.

The awesome, difficult question is - And now, what? Should we close the azarot, abandon our values? On my plane, I met Rav Eichler (a journalist from the Belz Chareidi newspaper). He asked me whether I do not think that what happened - and he is genuinely shocked - is a result of an educational system which teaches that there are things of more value than human life. I answered, we all believe that - it is in the

Shulchan Arukh. "Yehareg ve-al ya'avor" (commandments which may not be transgressed even at the cost of one's life) means that there are values greater than human life. The question is what is the balance, what are the halakhic, hashkafic and moral values which enable us to know when and how. In this sense, we need not be ashamed, nor need we erase one letter of our Torah. We will not surrender to any city, nor abandon a single one of our values. Our values are eternal, nothing can be given up or erased. But in terms of balance and application, of seeing the whole picture, of the development of the ability to think profoundly in order to know how to apply the Torah - here undoubtedly we must engage in a renewed and deeper examination. Priorities must be re- examined.

The same gemara in Yoma tells that there was another incident in the Temple which led them to change their procedures. Despite R. Zadok's speech, they hesitated about instituting a different procedure. But after a later incident, where one Kohen knocked another off the ramp, and the second one broke his leg, they realized that something was wrong with the system itself. They no longer said, "An exceptional case cannot change ancient practice." They instituted a new procedure, using a lottery to determine who should perform the Temple service. Why didn't they do this right away, after the murder? The answer is simple. Ideally, which procedure is better - giving the prize to one who runs, strives, and makes the effort due to his commitment to values and to service, or the use of a lottery, without pursuit, without struggle, a simple mechanical system? Clearly, the old system is better, more educational, more imbued with value. But after a murder, "seeing it could lead to danger," Chazal abandoned the method of individual initiative and competition, fully aware of the considerable educational loss, but willing to pay that price. Even things which are better in principle must be sacrificed if that is what is necessary to prevent terrible consequences.

I don't know what is the precise equivalent for us. But the process of examining the azara, of the problems which arise not despite its holiness but because of its holiness - that is clearly mandated. Not our principles, but surely our analysis of public policy and public needs, needs to be re- examined.

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In 1978, Shimon Peres visited the Yeshiva. He asked me what the political credo of the Yeshiva was. I told him the Yeshiva has no political credo, but we teach three things:

1. Even when sitting in the beit midrash, you have a responsibility to the community;

2. When addressing these problems, you have to think deeply and not simplistically;

3. Even when doing what is right, you have to know how to respect other opinions and the people who hold them.

This has to be our educational goal. The question is not just what are the particular values we hold, but through which spectacles we view values, through which eyes. A man, said Blake, doesn't see with his eyes but rather through his eyes. What sees is the mind.

Finally, there is another facet to what we have been discussing, which relates to our community and leadership.

Leaving out for now the question of individuals - who said what - we must remember the principle of the gemara in Shabbat: "Anyone who can rebuke the members of his household and doesn't do so is culpable for [the acts of] his household; [if he can rebuke] his townspeople, is culpable for his townspeople; the whole world - he is culpable for the whole world (Shabbat 54b)."

Everyone should tally his own accounts in this respect, but I am not wrong if I say that for all of us the degree of rebuke, of protest was not sufficient; for some, because they did not evaluate the evil properly, for others because they were not willing to publicize wrong when they feared our opponents could use it to attack our whole system.

The point of Chazal remains the same; their terrible words carry the same force in either case. That they could have protested and did not - this carries a particular responsibility beyond the "city," perhaps even beyond the "azarot."

We are today in a very difficult situation, partly practical, partly metaphysical. Practically, our struggle for our values within society has suffered a mortal blow. Among ourselves, there is a shocking atmosphere. Yesterday, the sight of armed guards in the Yeshiva, accompanying R. Yoel Bin-Nun, was shocking. Why was it shocking? I remember the gemara describing how the Kohen Gadol on Yom Kippur was suspected of being a Sadducee, a heretic - and both he and his accusers wept; he because he was suspect, his accusers because they lived in a world where such suspicions were necessary. Sadder than the sight of bodyguards in the Yeshiva was the knowledge that we live in a world where it is necessary. The transformation from a healthy, organic, trusting society, a society of azarot, to one sundered by suspicions is an awful and terrifying one.

Let me read a few lines from the Ramban in Acharei Mot. The verse states: "From your seed you shall not give to pass before the Molekh and you shall not desecrate the name of your God." The Ramban explains: "The verse states that the worship of the Molekh is a desecration of God's name and in the next parasha it is added that it 'defiles My holy place and desecrates My holy name.' The reason may be that it defiles the people who are hallowed in My name... Perhaps it means that one who sacrifices to the Molekh, and subsequently comes to the Temple of God to bring a sacrifice, defiles the Temple, for his sacrifices are defiled and an abomination to God, and he himself is defiled eternally, as he has been defiled by the evil he did... It mentions desecration of God's name because when the nations hear that he has given his children to the Molekh and an animal to God, this is desecration of God's name." There is not only chillul Hashem (desecration of God's name) as reflected in what others say, in our sullied public image, but also intrinsically, because (as it were) God is not complete and His name is not complete if there is bloodshed in Israel.

Today we must, out of the crisis, assume an educational and ideological task. Someone may say, "The Rosh Yeshiva says that azarot can lead to bloodshed - let's close the azarot!! Let us abandon the Mikdash!" I say, no! We will not close a single azara, nor will encourage tepid and unenthusiastic service. The challenge is,

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can we continue to inspire the yearning for sanctity, shake people out of complacency, get them to face the great call of the hour - to understand the importance of the Medina, to understand the historical process in which we live - without losing a sense of morality, of proportion, of right, of spirituality? Do we have to choose between azarot and morality? Chas ve-shalom! But we must purify our hearts and our camp in order to serve Him in truth.

About ten years ago, after the disclosure of the existence of the Jewish Underground, I spoke about the role of the Levites. I said then and I say now: the Levi'im had a double role. On the one hand, their job was to educate, to inspire, to open eyes and arouse hearts to the service of God and its ecstasy. At the same time, they were the guards at the Temple doors, forbidding entry to the unqualified, not letting one enter where one cannot. On the one hand, they called everyone to the Temple, and at the same time, they themselves pressed on the brakes. We are Levi'im - we must call a great and large company for this endeavor. We must not divide by saying - I saw and warned and you were silent. This sort of pettiness must be placed aside. We have to build a wide, secure base that can allow all Levites, all who are committed to the city and the azarot, to conjoin in the great effort to ensure that the light of the azarot shines onto the city.

This is very hard, ten times harder now than before the murder. But anything less will be a betrayal of our obligations and our rights, in this holy hour. May we purify our hearts and our camp, and through a spiritual and Torah- inspired effort, attempt to purify and to sanctify, to the greatest extent possible, our city and our society.

"She-netaher et libeinu ve-et machaneinu, u-mitokh ma'amatz ruchani ve-Torani, nishaf le-taher u-lekadesh, ad kama she-efshar, et ireinu."

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39

Hershel and Debbie Ellenbogen and Family In memory of:

Alfred Ellenbogen

Linda Hershberg

Rebecca and Barry Rosenstein

In memory of:

Bertha Rosenstein 05 Shvat

Joshua Rosenstein

07 Sivan

Nathan Belkin 09 Adar

Elaine Belkin 13 Cheshvan

The Blaszkowsky Family In memory of:

Patricia Wienold Humphries

3 Kislev 5741

Ralph Bert Humphries 13 Av 5745

Levin Family In memory of:

Celia Maxine Schaefer

סימא מלכה5 Kislev

40

Harvey and Naomi Weiner In memory of:

S. Bernard Raphael

5 Tammuz

The Diamond and Kamowitz Families

In memory of:

מאיר חיים בן לב דוד 17אלול

Rachel Levine and Aryeh Feder In memory of:

41

David and Janie Chefitz

In memory of:

Arthur Kornblau 4 Elul 5767

Clare Kornblau 29 Adar II 5771

Melvin Chefitz 23 Nisan 5776

Rachel Kurtz 18 Av 5777

The Goldin Family

In memory of:

Abraham Goldin 25 Iyar

Helene Goldin 22 Cheshvan

Maurice Ginsburg

28 Cheshvan

Dorothy Ginsburg 20 Tevet

The Gerber Family In memory of:

אברהם בן אברהם מנחם

ניסן י"ב