Last week, on the 25th day the month of Iyar, we commemorated the 55th anniversary of his death. He was my grandfather, my mother’s father, but we, my sisters and cousins and I, called him “Dad”!
We were exhausted, burned out. We felt that we needed a break. There were just two of us: me and my study partner, Yisrael. We were both not quite twenty years old, students in the post high school program in our yeshiva, committed to a morning and an afternoon session of intensive Talmud study from Sunday to Thursday every week.
Although the rest of the world refers to the Five Books of Moses as the Pentateuch, traditional Jews refer to it as the Chumash, stressing that it is comprised of five very different sections. The themes of each book differ fundamentally from each other.
That transitions and destinations are part of life is obvious. What is less obvious, but more fascinating, is that one person's destination is often another person's transition, and vice versa.
My first exposure to the study of the Bible was in the Yiddish language. We spoke only English at home, but almost all the teachers we had in the yeshiva I attended were Holocaust survivors who had escaped to the safety of these shores only a few years prior.
The world is indeed a stage, and we all play many roles in our lives. Some of these roles are assigned to us, leaving us with little choice but to fill them. Other roles, however, are freely chosen.
It was November, 1938. Dark clouds were gathering over all of Europe, and particularly over the Jewish communities in countries like Poland and Lithuania. Although few foresaw the horrific extent of the Holocaust that lay ahead, everyone knew that those communities were in very grave danger.
Scholars have had a lot to say about the role of aristocracy in the course of human history. Those of us who grew up in the United States of America were taught about the advantages of democracy and thus developed a prejudice against the very word "aristocracy." We were convinced that aristocracy meant government by a select group of people who earned their right to govern by virtue of their birth.
I trace back my love of poetry to Mr. Perle. He taught freshman English in the high school I attended. I remember him as diminutive in stature, but not at all diminutive in his ability to inspire reluctant students to read, and to actually enjoy, fine literature.
My first exposure to the study of the Bible was in the Yiddish language. We spoke only English at home, but almost all the teachers we had in the yeshiva I attended were Holocaust survivors who had escaped to the safety of these shores only a few years prior.
This column initiates a weekly series of discussions on the biblical portion read every Sabbath in the synagogue. I intend to focus on a theme which relates directly to the person and his or her real life experiences. I will try to plumb the depths of the parsha to find gems of relevance.
It is quite a long time now since I first heard the term "work-study program." This was a special federal program designed to assist young adults with limited financial means to achieve a professional education.
It is a word that one hears frequently these days, in many contexts. The word is "process." It is a word that reflects our growing recognition that there are very few things in this world that occur in an instant, yesh me'ayin, something out of nothing.
It is good for the body and good for the soul. It helps one lose weight, provides time for contemplation, is a favorite leisure activity, it can be entertaining – even edifying – and it costs nothing. In fact, there is no down side to it at all. It is the act of walking, or more colloquially, "taking a walk."
This week, we read one of a series of double parshiyot, Behar and Bechukotai. Both parshiyot are rich in verses which lend themselves to diverse explanations and elaborations, many of which are to be found in the vast Midrashic literature with which we are blessed.
It is a lesson I first learned in a course I took on the skills of interviewing long ago. The instructor taught us that the way to really size up a candidate for a job is to determine how he uses his time. He taught us that one question designed to assist the interviewer to make that determination is, “Where do you see yourself in five years?”
It is an old word, and it describes a behavior that has been around since the very beginning of history. Yet the word seems to me to be used more and more frequently these days, and the behavior it describes has gotten out of control.
The custom is fairly prevalent nowadays, but it was not a common practice thirty years ago when my friend raised his sons. He would seek out especially pious rabbis, generally quite elderly ones, to request that they bless his children.
Although many of his adherents deny it, he definitely had an anti-Semitic streak and was at least, for a time, sympathetic to the Nazi cause. Yet he was one of the major psychological theorists of the 20th century, and I personally have found his insights into the human mind both fascinating and practical.
In every group, there is one person who stands out as special. In childhood, it is often the kid with the greatest athletic prowess. Later in life, different attributes begin to qualify a person to become the group’s star.
I love visiting residences for senior citizens. For one thing, being around truly older people invariably helps me feel young by comparison. Recently, I was a weekend guest scholar at such a residence. I dispensed with my prepared lectures and instead tried to engage the residents of the facility, not one of whom was less than ninety years old, in a group discussion. This proved to be a very wise move on my part, because I learned a great deal about the experience of getting old. Or, as one wise man insisted, “You don’t get ‘old’—you get ‘older.’”