Hyehudi.org

Download (PDF, 554KB)

Excerpts from “WHILE WE STILL CAN” by Yael Zoldan:

On the rare occasions when my grandmother spoke of Europe before the war, I listened with the mounting dread of someone watching a horror movie. The tension was terrible. Underneath the singsong sound of her accented words, I could hear my own shallow breathing and feel the small hairs on my neck rising. Strains of eerie music were ramping up in my ears. My stomach clenched and twisted. My heart beat madly in my chest. I needed her to go on, and I wished that she would stop.

Because I knew the ending. The shattered glass, the cattle cars, Arbeit Macht Frei on the twisted metal gates. I knew what she didn’t know then, and it terrified me.

I wanted to go back in time to help her. I wanted to shake her. I wanted to shock her, to shock all of them out of their complacency. I wanted to scream, Don’t stay in Europe! Don’t you know what’s going to happen?! Get out while you can!

…

These days, in a different America, I look around at libraries and parks, peaceful places that have been turned into sites of mass protests by raging, screaming, hate-filled people. I don’t know these people. But they seem to know me. They know me and they hate me. They hate you, too.

These are college students. Professors. Deans and businessmen. Newscasters, reporters, senators. I look at these people, the best and the brightest our country has to offer, and I can’t decide if they’re crazy. Or if we are.

Just yesterday — or last week? Last month? — these normal-looking people stood before us in line at the store, exchanging murmured “Good mornings,” commenting on the weather and the price of milk. Today they gather in seething masses, protesting our right to be alive. Such an old hatred on their bright young faces, twisting their features into diabolical masks.

“Kill the Jews!” they chant. “Gas the Jews!” Their eyes shine with the seductive hatred that is ancient and knows no reason. “Hitler should have finished you off!” they shout hoarsely.

…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 868)

Read the rest on Mishpacha here…

Ever heard the expression “Time to wake up and face the music”?

Download (PDF, 6.77MB)

Reprinted with permission.

Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Friedman in Noam Siach tells a story that his brother-in-law Rabbi Sender Blau related to him (as conveyed by Rabbi David Ashear of “Living Emunah”):

Rabbi Blau himself heard about an individual who was going through very difficult struggles and was suffering terribly. Rabbi Blau didn’t know the man so well but really wanted to help him. He thought to himself, “If I randomly call him, it probably wouldn’t work, but perhaps if I write him a letter it would.” Hashem blessed Rabbi Blau with a gift of being able to write very well and so he sat down and wrote the most beautiful letter of chizuk in his own handwriting. He then took the letter to the printing shop to have it typed up and laid out in a nice way.

When the typesetter finished the letter and gave it back, Rabbi Blau read it and reread it again and then had second thoughts about giving it to that person. He was worried, since he didn’t know him so well, he may get offended by it. Maybe he didn’t want other people knowing so much about his problems. So he decided not to give it.

A few months later, Rabbi Blau attended a wedding and, suddenly, that man came over to him with tears in his eyes, telling Rabbi Blau he was envious of his share in Gan Eden. The Rabbi wasn’t sure what he was referring to. The man said, “You don’t know how much you did for me. This past year I have been going through such hard times and many people tried to give me chizuk, but nothing ever helped. For a short time I worked in a printing business and my job was to work on a computer as a typesetter, typing up other people’s work. One day a letter came in from you, Rabbi Blau, and I was given the job of typing it up. As I was typing it, I felt like every word was talking directly to me. Every challenge I was dealing with was referred to in that letter. The beautiful words ignited a new light of chizuk in me, they literally infused me with a sense of revival. I read it another couple of times and cried from it. I felt like it was a letter given to me straight from Hashem. I printed a copy for myself and I read it all the time. It made me a new person.”

Rabbi Blau wasn’t sure what to do. He wrote a beautiful letter but didn’t want to hurt this person’s feelings, but he had the best intentions. Hashem blessed his efforts. Amazingly, Hashem brought the letter to this person that Rabbi Blau wanted to give it to, without him going through the uncomfortable experience of actually giving it to him.

Rabbi Ashear ends off:

If we are l’shem Shamayim and we try our best, Hashem will bless our efforts.