Enjoy The Moment

Enjoy The Moment A good friend of mine, Rabbi Yisrael Tzvi Serebrowski, is a rabbi in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. He recently shared is simple but profound message with me. He told me that his Covid take away was to hit the pause button of life. To slow down, really pay attention and listen to people. Stop doing things by rote, instead be more deliberate and focused when it comes to mitzvahs, relationships and experiences. This message really resonated with me, and in light of its importance, I share with you the following ramble: It’s June, and for our family it means wedding season this year. We celebrate three weddings on the east coast this season: two nephews and a niece! Most recently this past weekend, my brother’s oldest son tied the knot with his bashert. We made the old East Coast road trip, leaving Cleveland Sunday morning and arriving in New Jersey in time for the celebration, then turning around the next morning and doing it all over again, this time traveling from east to west. With most of our family members living in the New York/New Jersey area, we have made this road trip too many times to count. We have come to recognize all of the rest areas and small towns dotting the I-80 and the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Places like Clarion, Bellafonte and Snowshoe, and others with more biblical names like Ephrata, and their respective mile markers and rest stop areas, have all become familiar to us over the years. These trips are long and can be quite arduous (those of you who have made the trip with smaller children know exactly what I’m talking about) but in light of my friend Rabbi Serebrowski’s Covid resolution, I share with you several personal highlights of our most recent trip. Number one is the trip itself. Driving through Pennsylvania can be quite monotonous, but it is also an opportunity to enjoy Hashem's scenic Appalachian mountain range. Behind one particular rest stop, there was a stream and a nature trail. I walked down to the stream and surrounded by this picturesque landscape, I recited the "Asher Yatzer" prayer for health and healing. It was one of the most meaningful prayers that I have recited. I enjoyed the people watching as well. From the motorcycle gang members with their cigarettes and inappropriate tattoos, to the people that I exchanged small talk with while waiting together on line at the Starbucks rest area, they are all part of the tapestry of human beings created in Hashem’s image. My family knows that I get really excited on these trips when we meet fellow Jewish travelers. My J-dar (Jewish radar) is always engaged and my Jewish spidey-sense really tingles when I meet fellow members of the tribe. This time we met a young family heading to South Bend, Indiana. We only exchanged about 50 words, but it was a really enjoyable interaction for us. Number two is the wedding itself. The highlight of the wedding for me was dancing with my close family members. I am hardly a graceful dancer, but seeing my parents sitting down on the edge of the dance floor, and holding hands with my siblings as we danced in front of them, was an extremely emotional experience for me. Watching my parents enjoy the nachas of their grandson‘s wedding, and feeling the love of my siblings as we embraced on the dance floor, was something special. Words cannot adequately describe these special feelings. I saw a wonderful quote: Live in the moment and enjoy the present. I resolve to try and do more of that. I’ll have plenty of practice to do that, because next weekend will be our niece’s wedding in New Jersey. It might not even pay to unpack! Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Koval

Planting Carobs

Planting Carobs Choni Hame’agel, a Talmudic figure, once met an old man planting a carob tree. “How long will it take to grow?” he asked. “Seventy years,” the man answered. “Do you know that you will live another 70 years?” Choni inquired. “Just as my ancestors planted for me,” replied the man, “so too I plant for my children.” This week my daughter graduated from high school. Not just any high school, but Yavne High School, the same high school I graduated from 29 years ago. True, the building is new. We were at the older South Taylor building in Cleveland Heights, whereas my daughter and her friends are at the newer Green Road building in Beachwood. True, we had royal blue plaid uniforms (same at St. Anne’s, except ours had to cover our knees) and today’s Yavne grads have smart looking gray pleated skirts. True, they have “phone carts” to stash their phones. We had a good old payphone (call collect, don’t accept). But there’s so much in common. We have had many of the same teachers. My class picture of Yavne ‘92 hangs in her hall. The mood, the feel, the spirit of Yavne is the same for her and for me. The passage of time plays tricks on our minds. Did that event happen last year? Or five years ago? How long has it been since my neighbor got married? Two years? Or seven? When I tell my kids that I remember the day my parents bought our first microwave, they are shocked. Even its digital clock was novel. My brother used to sit in front of the metal box and wait for it to read fun patterns, like 12:34 or 11:11. I think that it’s been 20 years since, but actually when I do the math, it’s more like 40. We were going through an old album that my sister-in-law made for my husband and me when we were engaged. In addition to pictures of the two of us growing up, she included mementos, like my high school graduation program and my acceptance letter to seminary in Israel. We lifted the plastic to read the letter and my daughter gasped: tuition for the year in 1992 was $5,700. Even adjusting for inflation, that’s less than half what it costs today. But then I think: my parents planted for me. And I will plant for my children. Is Jewish school expensive? Yeah, that’s an understatement. Is kosher food expensive? Yup. Is a year in Israel out of most of our budgets? Yes and yes. All these high-ticket items are investments into our Jewish identity, into our survival as a people. And as my daughter graduates, after 15 years of Jewish education, and kosher food, and weekly Shabbats, and prepares for her year in Israel, I am overwhelmed with the strains of “Sunrise, Sunset”: Is this the little girl I carried Is this the little boy at play I don’t remember growing older When did they? So I will plant, and I will invest, and I will keep making financial sacrifices to give my kids what my parents gave me. Because those dividends will grow and grow--beyond what I can see and what I can understand. And one day, God willing, they will plant for theirs. Shabbat Shalom, Ruchi

Hidden Messages

Hidden Messages The other day I was having a conversation with a friend of mine and the topic turned to "charity collectors." These are people who are down on their luck and have to resort to leaving their homes (in our communities these folks are more often than not coming from Israel) and suffering the indignity of traveling around to various Jewish communities, going door-to-door, and asking for a handout. My friend was telling me about an aunt of his who graciously opens her home in NY to all sorts of Jews who need a place to stay while in town raising funds. One particular guest approached her, explained his story, and asked if he could stay for a period of time. Turns out he was not as honest as he portrayed himself to be, and the woman of the house wanted to ask him to leave. She approached him and confronted him with her complaints and, to her utter shock and disbelief, he just ignored her. Instead of even having the decency to engage in conversation or even to deny her claim he simply turned around and started walking away from her and around the house. She followed after him and continued talking to his back, but he just went about his business. She followed him into the kitchen (her kitchen, mind you) where he calmly opened up the cabinets and began taking out a frying pan and spatula and a carton of eggs from the fridge. While she tried to get his attention he silently went about making himself an omelet, cracking open the eggs, putting them in the pan, turning on the flame and frying his egg. Talk about good old fashioned chutzpah! This woman, who was so kind and generous to him (and so many others) by opening her home to perfect strangers simply could not believe how brazen this impudent fellow was. I am not sure how the story ended (I would hope she eventually got him to leave the house, although I highly doubt he cleaned the frying pan or put away the eggs before he did) but a thought occurred to me while listening to this bizarre tale. We human beings, and particularly in our role as G-d’s Chosen People, are also strangers in a foreign place. We are born into this world and inhabit it for the decades that we are blessed to live for. During this time we are really “guests” in a home that belongs to G-d. As Creator of the world, G-d is the de facto owner of the world as well. In fact, in our Amidah prayer we refer to G-d as the Owner of everything by virtue of the fact that He created it all. We are put into this world with specific roles, leadership and missions as well as directives (the mitzvot) which serve as the “house rules” by which to live. Too often we are derelict in our duties, don't follow the “rules,” and G-d wishes to talk to us about it. True, we may not have the benefit of direct communication from G-d, but He “speaks” to us through other channels. Torah literature teaches us that when calamities befall a person, or the world at large, they are to be understood as messages from G-d that He wants us to improve our behavior and our loyalty to Him. Since the end of the first Temple era, G-d removed the gift of prophecy from our world, and there are no longer people who can receive direct communication from Him. In the absence of such a phenomenon we can never truly point to a specific message or ideal that G-d wants us to improve upon. But one thing we can know for certain. He wants something. He wants us to take the events that we see happening around us and use it as inspiration to make some sort of improvement in our spiritual lives. It may be one thing for one person, another thing for some else and yet a third thing for the next fellow. The common denominator is that everyone should take some step towards self improvement. So when events happen, be they Covid, catastrophes in Meron, rocket attacks in Israel, hate crimes rooted in anti-Semitism or any other troubling event, let us all remember that these are G-d’s way of getting our attention as guests in His House. Let us put down the frying pan, put the eggs on hold and stop for a minute to have the respect of a conversation with our gracious Homeowner. In that merit may we be blessed with a very long stay as guests in this home of ours, complete with eggs and everything else to enjoy! Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Yosef Koval

Words Matter

Words Matter Those of us who write this ramble, or anything really, know that every word counts. The words you choose evoke all kinds of emotions, whether positive or negative, and that is deliberate. Writers seek to evoke emotions in their readers. The recent war in Israel, and by extension, viciously anti-semitic riots that are popping up all over the world, is a stark reminder of this. So when I read a recent New York Times article, co-written by Fares Akram and Josef Federman, I was upset but not surprised to notice some of these word choices: First, the headline: “Israel steps up Gaza offensive, kills senior Hamas figures.” I have so many questions. Why is “Israel” the first word in this headline? This makes it seem as though Israel made the first move. They did not. The reason Israel “steps up” is as a self-defense measure, responding to the hundreds of rockets targeted at their civilians. Moving on. “Offensive”? This makes it sound like Israel is the aggressor. Israel would like nothing more than to live in peace with its neighbors. Oh, but Sheikh Jarrah, you may ask? Yes, there is a valid controversy over who owns the land. Before 1948, Jews bought it legally from Arab owners and lived there, but after 1948, the Jordanian government claimed the property. So Jewish settlers have now gone to Israeli court to have the land returned to Jews. Complicated? Yes. Cause for terrorist rockets on civilians designed to intimidate and frighten? No. So who is on the offensive, and who is on the defensive? Which cultures celebrate death, and which celebrate peace? Next. “Kills senior Hamas figures.” Can we call “senior Hamas figures” terrorists? Because that’s what they are. Because Hamas has been recognized by the European Union, Israel, Japan, and the United States as a terrorist organization, so if my math is right, the “senior figures” therein are terrorists. Right? So killing a terrorist is something I would call, oh, “justice.” Would you call Osama bin Laden a “senior militant figure”? No, you would call him a murderer. Would you call his killers (American Navy SEALs) “aggressors” or on the “offensive”? I certainly hope not. I call them heroes. In fact, nowhere in the entire article do the journalists use the word “terror” or “terrorist,” except for this quote from a Gazan, about how he feels when bombs pounded his building in Gaza City: “That terror is impossible to describe.” Also this quote from an Israeli, as if merely opinion: “If you are attacked by a terrorist group, you defend yourself.” But the article uses the word “militants” instead of “terrorists” throughout. To be clear: I do believe that Gazans feel terror, and I feel enormous compassion for them that they are ruled by a terrorist organization that rules corruptly and unjustly, and regularly puts the lives of its citizens in jeopardy. I myself feel apprehensive writing these words now, knowing how such views garner anti-semitic hate speech and even threats online. No one should ever be a victim of terror. When Jews lynch an Arab I’m the first to denounce the violence. That is never the Jewish way. But why is the word “terror” used only to describe Gazan fear? Doesn’t our terror count? Have you seen the videos of little Jewish boys and girls in bomb shelters, singing for peace? So please, friends. Educate yourselves on the facts. We have enemies who want to see us gone--all of us, whether religious or unaffiliated, in Israel or right here in Cleveland. We don't want to see anyone gone (except terrorists). So share the truth. Judaism is a religion of peace. If words matter, consider that the two most famous Hebrew words are probably “shalom,” peace, and “chai,” life. We don’t seek to “colonize” (another trigger word) any land to which we’re not indigenous. In fact, that's an oxymoron. If you’re indiginous, you’re not the colonizer. We prefer to be left alone, in the land of our ancestors, and anywhere we live, to pray, study, work, love, laugh, and live. That’s all. And you can quote me on those words. Because words really do matter. Shabbat Shalom, Ruchi

Soul Purpose

Soul Purpose My grandmother's father, lovingly known as “Pa Fink,” was on his deathbed in Scranton, PA. It was June of 1965, and his daughter, my grandmother ("Grandma") was in NY. She had gotten the call to come to Scranton right away. The doctors did not think he would hang in there, but he did. The nurses said that he was waiting for his youngest daughter to arrive and say her final goodbye. When Grandma arrived, he opened his eyes for the last time, smiled, took Grandma’s hand, and then passed away. Less than two weeks prior to that, Pa's wife, Yitta (Ida) passed away in the same hospital. Amazingly, when she passed away, her husband, laying in his hospital bed, sensed and remarked on the passing of his dear wife. Ma and Pa Fink had lived in a small shtetl in Poland and came to the USA in 1922, moving to Taylor, PA, a small mining town near Scranton. They were one of only two Shomer Shabbos (Shabbat observant) families in their town, and remained that way as they raised their five children. Our daughter Yitty is named after Ma Fink, and for a long time she has wanted to make the trip to Scranton to visit the gravesite of her namesake. She finally got her opportunity. Last weekend our family planned to drive to New York to celebrate my nephew's Bar Mitzvah. Our original plan was to leave Cleveland early Friday morning and arrive in NY in time for Shabbat. Then our daughter Yitty informed us that Friday would be the yahrtzeit of her namesake, and that she would love to make a stop in Scranton to visit the Jewish cemetery there to say a prayer at Ma Fink's gravesite. I called my cousins in Scranton and explained that Friday would be Ma Fink's yahrtzeit, and would they be interested in helping us organize a minyan, so that we could recite kaddish there? It's considered a tremendous merit for the soul of a deceased relative to have kaddish recited on their behalf at their final resting place, especially on the day of their yahrtzeit. So, we all drove into Scranton Thursday evening, arrived at our cousin's home past midnight, and met at the cemetery at 10:30 the next morning. Between my 14-year-old son and me, my father and brother who drove in from Monsey, NY, two cousins, and four friends from Scranton, we had our minyan. We recited kaddish, along with some psalms that corresponded to each letter of the full Hebrew name of my great-grandmother, and heard a few brief reflections and memories from friends and relatives. I spent a few extra minutes in heartfelt, emotional prayer and solitude at the final resting place of my great-grandparents, great-aunts, -uncles and cousins. I don't know if we will ever have the opportunity to return to this hallowed ground, and my cousin confirmed that this was the only time that a minyan had gathered at Ma and Pa Fink's gravesite on a yahrtzeit to recite kaddish on their behalf, since their passing in 1965! (See the attached photo of their headstone. Notice that they passed less than two weeks apart, and the family had one double stone commissioned for their final resting place together.) It was a moving experience, and really got me thinking not just about the human journey in this world, but also about the role of the eternal soul. The prayers that we recite and the mitzvahs that we perform, even decades or centuries later, bring peace to the soul, and it feels the elevation as those mitzvahs and prayers help it ascend higher in the spiritual world of eternity. The past year has been an extremely difficult one for everyone, especially for our extended "family" living in Israel. After a year of Covid, then the tragedy on Mt. Meron, and now the terrible acts of terrorism, rocket attacks and rioting, G-d is definitely trying hard to get our attention, and our thoughts and prayers are with our brothers and sisters in the holy land. Next week will be the holiday of Shavuot. It is customary to recite a special "yizkor" memorial prayer on this holiday. In this prayer we ask G-d to "grant rest and shelter to the lofty, holy and pure souls who are resting in paradise, in the shelter of His wings for eternity, in the bond of eternal life..." It is so hard to make sense of the death and destruction going on in the world, especially in the land of Israel, G-d's divine palace, but we can take a bit of solace and comfort from the message of this prayer as we reaffirm our historical tradition that at least we know and believe that the souls of our departed ones are in a better place. PS Please join us at JFX this upcoming holiday on Tuesday, 5/18 for our yizkor memorial services at 11:00 AM. We will dedicate a special prayer in memory of the recent victims in Israel. Shabbat Shalom and happy Shavuot, Rabbi Koval

20 Minutes

20 Minutes My friend’s son is getting married. Mazel tov! She asked me if I’d help her create “evites” for the wedding. I think it’s great that electronic email invitations are gaining popularity, but you have to be somewhat techy to make them happen, and I happen to be [insert modest blush] pretty techy. In fact, she told me once that I’m the most techy female she knows, a badge I wear with pride. We made a plan to meet at her home at 8:45 am on Monday (yes, we’re both vaccinated). My kid was running late for school--another topic for another day--so I ended up dropping him off at around 8:20. As I pulled out of the driveway at Oakwood, I wondered what to do with my approximately 20 free minutes. I’m not usually out and about at that hour. Should I go back home? Nah, opposite direction. Should I just head to Cleveland Heights, where my friend lives, and pop in and say hi to my in-laws? As I was deliberating, I got a phone call from my sister, who also lives in Cleveland Heights. My sister rarely calls me at 8:20 am, which is when we’re both usually trying to get our respective kids off to school, so I answered right away. Then she said this, I kid you not, word for word: “Ruchi,” she said, “by any chance are you hanging around Cleveland Heights for like, the next 20 minutes?” “Crazily…. yes!! I’m just leaving Oakwood, and I need to be in Cleveland Heights at 8:45, and I was wondering what to do.” I told her. “Why??” She told me that my 3-year-old niece had a bad cold and was up a lot at night. Now she had fallen asleep, and my sister didn’t want to wake her, but she had to drive my nephew to school. Could I come to her house and just hang out there for the next 20 minutes or so while she drove him? I was astounded. Really, could this be a coincidence? What were the chances?? I drove over to her house and took over my (very easy) babysitting duties. Bonus: I had not yet had a chance to say my morning prayers, and now I had a quiet, private place to do just that. When my sister came home she was so grateful for my favor, and I was so blown away by the turn of events that had enabled me to help her, and myself, perfectly. Later I was talking to my brother, and I told him the whole chain of events. He told me that he thinks I must be the kind of person who doesn’t waste a minute (this is not true, for the record), and therefore, God enabled me to use every minute of that time doing an act of kindness for another person, while also using the time for prayer and meditation, which is how I like to start my day. Yes, I have awesome siblings. The evites are done, my niece is feeling better, life goes on and we often forget these little things that fill us with faith and wonder. But it’s important to stop and notice, to stop and give thanks, to stop and allow our awe in the synchronicity of the Universe to remind us that the world is a fascinating and beautiful place, with a Plan that sometimes just blows us away. Shabbat Shalom, Ruchi

Eye Vey!

Eye Vey! A few weeks ago, my young son, Chaim, received an injury in the form of a blow to the eye. How he suffered that injury will be left off the record, but suffice it to say it involved the foot of one of his siblings that somehow met his eye with some significant force (accidentally, of course). The incident happened shortly before I was to take my children to school, and Chaim complained to me that he couldn’t go to school because his eye was in pain. I saw there was a bruise on his eyelid, and we had given him ice to apply to it, so I figured he would just go to school and let his body heal itself. My children don’t usually need much of an excuse to ask to stay home from school, so while I was comforting and sympathetic to a degree, I certainly wasn’t overly pampering nor did I intend to leave him home. Getting done what I need to during the day is challenging enough WITH my kids in school, but when they're home it's nearly impossible! So, I walked him to the car and, au revior, off to school he went. My productive workday was truncated when we received a call from the school at 2 o’clock to pick up Chaim because he was in considerable pain the entire day, so Miriam got him from school and brought him to the ER. He was eventually seen by a doctor who diagnosed a scratched cornea and told us that such an injury is extremely painful, to the extent that it feels like having glass in your eye! Now I felt like a real idiot for not showing him enough sympathy and for forcing him to go to school! The doctor prescribed eye drops for Chaim to take for the next 5 days and to follow up with an ophthalmologist in a week. Today (Friday) is a day known on the Jewish calendar as “Lag Ba’omer,” literally translated as “the 33rd day of the Omer.” This day is a day of celebration for a couple of reasons. One reason is because the great Rabbi Akiva had 24,000 students who tragically passed away in a short period of time between Pesach and Shavuot and it was on this day that they stopped dying. The Talmud tells us the reason they died was a punishment for “not having proper respect for one another.” Obviously, people of great stature such as they were, this did not mean they were mean spirited or even worse, physically harmed each other (like, oh, kicking someone else in the eye). It means that on the level of piety which they were on, they lacked a certain sense of compassion, empathy and respect for their colleagues. The greater the spiritual level a person is on, the greater expectation and standard G-d holds him to. As a consequence of their failing, they unfortunately paid a heavy price. Coming as it did specifically during this time of the year, I felt remorseful after hearing what the doctor said for not giving Chaim the proper level of sympathy and TLC that I should have as a parent. I felt a sense of failing to live up to the standards that are taught by the lesson of the episode of Rabbi Akiva’s students. I made a silent resolution to try and be more understanding and empathetic towards people, and certainly my own family, even when to me the situation seems to be less significant than they are portraying it to be. OK, now I just need to break up a new elbow-to-the-nose-off-the record-accidental-situation between two of my children before I start putting my newfound compassion and sympathy into practice! Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Yosef Koval