The redemption of last year's kiddush story

It was a beautiful Friday night and I was in Hillel, enjoying a wonderful shabbat dinner. I believe this was the night I went over to this pair of people standing alone by the front door and welcomed them in. In turns out they were brother and sister visiting Penn, who were originally from Colombia - where my grandmother is from! The guy had been in Israel for the past few years and while not religious, they decided to stop by Hillel for a taste of Shabbat. I had them come and sit with me and we had a marvelous time. As I was getting ready to head out, a friend slipped a bottle of Kedem wine into my pocket, presumably as some sort or playful joke. I don't remember if I forgot about it or decided to play along, but I soon found myself walking outside with a bottle of wine sticking out of my pocket. My first stop was a friend's apartment, where he was hosting a meal for some of the kids from his Hebrew class (more about these Shabbat Dinners later, be"H). I made it for the tail-end, just in time to meet some of the new faces and get some leftover dessert. After a while, I exited his apartment as well, this time with two friends in tow and the aforementioned leftover desserts in my hands - a bag of cinnamon rugelach and a chocolate bobka. We next headed over to Chabad, for any post-meal words of wisdom or inspiration the Chabad rabbi would have to share with us. He didn't let us down - we stayed there for a bit, exchanging ideas, sharing l'chaims and meeting the eclectic bunch of new faces that had congregated there. After our fair share of physical and spiritual sustenance, we finally left and headed back towards our dorm building.

But the excitements wasn't about to end just yet...

On the 5-minute walk home, there were streams of people traversing the streets, going to and from various parties of the non-Shabbat variety. One particular group of guys coming towards us caught my eye, as there were 3 guys walking and one of them being pushed in a shopping cart. Not wanting to start any trouble, we kinduv ignored them as they passed, fearing they were intoxicated to the point of belligerent behavior. It was then much to our surprise when they greeted us with a jovial "Shabbat Shalom!" as they passed! So of course, we turned to them with greeting of Shabbat Shalom in return and after introducing ourselves (they all had clearly Jewish names), we started speaking. One of them asked if we had chocolate bobka - and I answered that while we couldn't offer them that, we did have chocolate rugelach and a sumptuous cinnamon bobka. After their affirmative responses, we passed out the desserts and ate them together. One of them then proceeded to ask if we had any Manischewitz wine! Much to their surprise, I pulled out the bottle of Kedem from my pocket and offered it to them. Much to all of our chagrin, we didn't have any cups and couldn't share Kiddush with them.

As we stood there, some woman who was clearly intoxicated walked by, yelling behind her at someone. Just as she passed us, she turned to us and started yelling at us. She said we had yelled something at her, but I think she was just jealous or of oneg Shabbat. Luckily, before she could spray us with her mace like she had threatened, some policeman showed up and she ran away. When we were explaining to the police what had happened and her intoxicated state, I could see them eyeing the bag of rugelach, and they gladly accepted our tasty offer as well.

As the policemen went on their way, the four guys said they had to get going as well, and started to leave. Interestingly, of of the guys, who supposedly is a famous DJ on campus, stayed around for a few minutes. It seemed like he just wanted to stay and chat with us, which we did until his friends pulled him along. Then, as they were all leaving, another two guys passed us by and, noting our Jewish attire and maybe seeing that we had been giving out something, asked us if we had any kugel. While we unfortunately couldn't fulfill their desires, we did offer them some rugelach and told them that they could get some good noodle kugel next week every Friday night at Hillel. With that, we finally made our way back to our rooms and, after a quick tisch, called it a night.

Some lessons learned:

• Carry around rugelach and/or bobka on Friday night
• Carry around Kedem/Manischewitz (I prefer kedem) wine on Friday night
• ...and don't forget kiddish cups
• When people say "Shabbat Shalom" to you, even as a joke, they often mean it, and would love if you stopped and spoke to them for a while. Btw, according to some opinions, simply saying "Shabbat Shalom" is enough to accept upon one's self the sanctity of Shabbat.
  
• If you really want to make kiddush for people, they'll find you. Although sometimes you have to go walking around outside so they can find you. And sometimes you have to go to their door so they can find you. But it's them finding you.
• Sharing the gift of Shabbat with people is one the greatest gifts you can give them. People are hungry for it - and not just for its rugelach, wine, or kugel (although those mediums can help too).
  

Last year's kiddush story

Some time last year, when the group was just getting started, we knew that we had to do something. We had to just get something started so we could capitalize on the initial positive energy people were showing and encourage others. So the idea I brought up was to model the Kiddush idea that we had done so beautifully in Tel Aviv two years previously in Penn. Lacking any opposition or better ideas, we decided to go for it, with the target locale being the Quad. One Friday, we baked some cookies, got some decent wine (at least better than the Kedem wine [according to some opinions]) and photocopied some copies of Kiddush. After a quick Shabbat dinner, a bunch of four of us went out, and split into two groups in the Quad. We said we would meet up in an hour at someone's room and bidding each other hatzlacha rabba (great success), off we went.

It was not an easy mission - and completely different than that which we did in Israel. For one, we didn't know who was Jewish. We tried to figure it out by the names on the door but some rooms only had first names, some were ambiguous and in some, only one roommate would be Jewish. Another complication was that Friday night seemed to be either a big partying night or a big studying night (my guess is the former) and many rooms were empty. Then, even if we knocked on the door of someone who we knew was Jewish, what do we say? While in our minds it all made sense, when actually articulating it to some random girl standing there asking who we were, it was a lot harder. Especially after a few initial failures and frustrations, it was difficult to get into the right state of mind. When we met up afterward, we recapped on our journeys over the remaining bottles of wine (which it turns out were the worst bottles of wine ever). It seemed to have gone alright - in the end we made Kiddush for a few people and met a whole bunch more. But it just wasn't the overwhelming, heartwarming, life-changing experience that I had recalled.

When discussing what made it different from my Israel experience, the main factor that came up was that it wasn't Israel. While Tel Aviv-ians might be secular, most have them have pretty strong Jewish identities and if someone actually comes to make Kiddush with them, they'd be happy to oblige. Not so much in Penn- where many of the thousands of secular Jews unfortunately don't have much in terms of a Jewish identity. Some people we met that night who were definitely Jewish didn't even really know what Kiddush was. It also must have been weirder for them to see some religious people offering to make Kiddush, unlike Israel where at least a good third of the country makes Kiddush Friday nights. And while in Israel it seemed so natural, in the Quad we felt like missionaries. Maybe that's one of the [many] painful downfalls of not being in your own land - that's it's often perceived as odd to attempt to share the beauties of your religious with your own co-religionists. In any event, for all its downsides, the night was a success - both in terms of meeting and sharing Shabbat with some Jews, and in terms of showing ourselves and our fellow committed cohorts that we were serious about doing that. And while it wasn't the perfect idea, it did helps us gain much insight into a lot of the issues that exist on campus and helped prepare us for future ideas.

It was not until six months later that I had the perfect redemptive end to this story...

Good and Sweet Year

We traditionally wish each other "שנה טובה ומתוקה", a good, sweet year. So what's the difference between a good thing and a sweet thing?

As we believe that G-d is all good, all that He does and thus all that happens to us is inherently good. However, in our narrowmindedness and due to the lack of clarity of this world, we often find it hard to see this. Therefore we wish each other that we should have not only good years, but sweet years - goodness which is palatable to us.

I wish you all שנים טובות ומתוקות - good, sweet years.


inspired by R' Ari Heller and, l'havdil bein chayim l'meitim, R' Kook

The prelude to the introduction to the redemption of last year's kiddush story

This past Friday night something truly beautiful and magnificent happened to me and two friends. But in order to truly understand the beauty and magnificence of this story, you'd have to know what happened that fateful Shabbat in Tel Aviv, tibane v'tikonen, as well as in the Quad that festive Friday night last year. So I'll start with the Tel Aviv story, which is what inspired much of what happened since then.

In between high school and college, I studied abroad in Israel for the year, in Yeshivat haKotel. The head of the Yeshiva was Rav Mordechai (Motti) Elon, and while he was the head of the Yeshiva, he also happened to be the religious head of, ya know, most of Israel. Anyway, so he instituted that every year on Parshat Zachor, the week before Purim, the Yeshiva as a whole would go to Tel Aviv for a Shabbaton. So, on one fine Friday afternoon, around 250 people trekked up to Tel Aviv, including the Israelis, kollel families, rebbeim, chutznikim and Rav Elon and his famly. We all stayed at different locations (we 'yeshiva bochrim' stayed on the floor in some empty school), and on our way to our meeting point, we danced together through the streets of Tel Aviv. After meeting up and dancing in kikar Rabin, we split off into different groups and went to daven kabbalat Shabbat with and liven up various little batei kinesset in the area. Then we all had dinner together in some shul.

And then it began.

Following dinner, they split us into groups of four people, gave us a bottle or two of wine and sent us off. Three Israeli friends of mine and myself started walking down the streets. We wandered into different apartment buildings and knocked on some random doors. To be fair, only around two-thirds of the time did people answer, but when they did answer, almost all of them went well. None of them were 'dati' per se but they all were so pleased to be making kiddush with us and some even joined in. Oh right, that's what we were doing - making kiddush. But that's the beauty of it, we were just meeting people, over a delicious cup of Israeli wine and some words of sanctification. And when we would knock on the doors, we said simply that we were some guys coming by to say Shabbat Shalom, to spend some time and to share kiddush with them. And so it wasn't about getting them to do a mitzvah, or getting them to say a certain formula; while that was the means for the encounter, the point was that heart to heart encounter in and of itself.

And people loved it - they appreciated it, they would stand respectfully when we made kiddush and they were more than happy to engage in conversation with us. Some of them were single twenty-somethings, some were elderly ladies and one consisted of a large family gathering, but they were all Jewish and they were all overjoyed by this display of care. We were welcomed into one young couple's apartment where they were watching T.V. over dinner and so when we got to asking them if they wanted us to make kiddush for them, they asked whether they should turn off their T.V. In a beautiful flow of events, we said that it didn't really matter, and we said kiddush together over the hum of the T.V. - it was perhaps one of the most special kiddushim that I ever made. And that family gathering- oh man! It turns out one of the patriarch's son's and his wife had won some 'The Real Life'-esqu show, and the Israeli's I was with new that they were famous, and the family couldn't get over the fact that I was from NYC. We ended up talking to them for around half-an-hour, drinking a little (water) and we just chilled. Finally, after a few hours walking and talking around, when we finished the wine and/or the cups (we helped out a bit on our own ;-), we made out way back to some shul for the tail-end of a Rav Elon tisch.

In retrospect, that was perhaps one of the greatest Shabbatot of my life - getting to share the beauty, peace, and friendliness of Shabbat and Judaism with Jews in Tel Aviv who thought true Judaism was only for Chareidim who hated them. And here we were, dati yeshiva students, going out of our way to meet these simple, but yet so holy Jews, in a meeting of minds, faces, and hearts. And that's what was so powerful about it, the simple but yet deep encounter that occurred, brought about by the sanctity of Shabbat, and powerfully impacting on all parties involved. For them - they said it was amazing to see people like us doing this and they truly appreciated it, and for me - to see the way they responded to this presentation of Judaism and how much they respected, honored and loved the Shabbat and its messengers. It was from that Shabbat onwards, that I began to dream of living in Tel Aviv (anyone wanna join me?) and being able to share with people those feelings of achdut (brothergood), mutual respect, and a love for Judaism.

It also inspired me enough to try some of these methods out on my own... For more on that, stay tuned for the next installment of the series - last year's story (a.k.a. the introduction to the redemption of last year's kiddush story)

Four for four, and some more...

Okay, so it's still not a contest, but I did give a kippah to some guy today who asked me for one. But wait 'til you hear the rest of this story...

I was on my way out of Hillel after some post-Shabbat singing when I saw this man walking in my direction. This man was probably in his 40's and had a long, fraying coat and overgrown hair and facial hair - looking like a typical homeless person. He kind of glanced at me and then he kind of asked me whether there were services going on now. I say "kind of" because he couldn't really look straight at me, nor was he speaking so clearly. I told him that services had actually just finished, as the Sabbath had just ended and that everyone had left. As I continued walking towards my dorm, he walked along with me and so we started talking - I asked him his name, where he's from, etc. After he responded with cryptic and some non-nonsensical answers, I realized that besides for (probably) being homeless, he also had some serious psychological/mental problems.

As I arrived at my dorm and was about to leave him to go into the building, I realized that this guy probably needed some help, if only just a little food, of which there was plenty extra in Hillel. So I decided to ask him whether he'd want to come to Hillel with me and get some food. He answered, hesitantly, that that would be great but that he didn't want to bother me, but he could use some food and he needed to wash his hands, and was I sure it was okay, and he has some relatives who live in Philadelphia, and am I related to some random family who live in Delaware, and that guy over there looks like Sharon, and that person over there was looking at him strangely ... That was pretty much what it was like to talk to him - whenever he would start talking, he would go off on random tangents, relating to me some story of his life or some connection he has with something that he could only just barely remember. It turns out that he had gone to Dartmouth and got a degree in religion, then went to Law School, but sometime after that everything get screwed up.

In short, I brought him to Hillel, and he stayed outside (they wouldn't let him in because he didn't have any ID - which might have been the right decision) while I brought him down most of the leftover food from seudat shlishit. It was at this point that he asked me for a kippah, which I gladly gave to him. Then he asked for some water so he could wash his hands, which he said he hadn't done in a while. So I had someone else walking by bring us some water and soap and he washed his hands thoroughly, during which he started saying the b'racha "al netilat yadayim". Over the course of his stories, it emerged that his parents were killed in a car-accident when he was 10 (for which he unreasonably saw himself as partially responsible) and he was raised by his uncle. Last year - in fact, almost exactly a year ago, that uncle died and now he wanted to say kaddish for his uncle's yahrzeit. So, in order to let him do that, I gathered 10 guys who were around or nearby and this guy and me said kaddish together, word-for-word. Meanwhile, the other 8 guys were giving me these weird looks, as in 'who is this crazy, homeless guy who you're talking to?', but I told them I'd explain it all later.

In the end, we ended up talking for over an hour-and-a-half, joined by a friend of mine for the last half. It was really sad to hear this man's story and all the misfortunes that seemed to have befallen him. But in the end, as we were parting ways , he told me that he had a particularly unfortunate and terrible past few years but that it was nice to talk to someone and meet a new friend. And he was actually very grateful and appreciative that I organized a minyan for him to say kaddish for his uncle. I even gave him my phone number (was that a mistake?) and he texted me saying "This iz todah". For all of the intensity and craziness of the discussions and entire experience, it was surely a night to remember. Especially as we go into the Days of Awe, where we come before God with "תפלה לעני...", "prayer of the poor person" (Tehillim 102:1) - I mean, before an Infinite Being, we must surely appear crazed, poor, physically and spiritually homeless and going through some rough times. We pray to God that, in His infinite kindness, He should except us as such, accept us and our prayers with an open hand and an open ear, and to be a Friend to us (ידידיה). There is no better way to appreciate the power of that framework than to go and see what it is like to speak to someone who is lost in their distress, and to lend a hand to someone looking for some help.

May God only continue to deal mercifully with us, and may we do the same in our own ways in our own lives.

Why Can't There Be More People Like Him

Wow.

There are some times in life when you meet people who help you understand why we were given life. A few weeks ago I was privileged to spend Shabbat with Rabbi Moshe Lefkowitz, director of an organization called Afikim. You should all go their website to find out more, but in short, it is network of afternoon centers across Israel for disadvantaged and troubled families - religious and not-religious, providing enriching, constructive, and development activities for children as well as parental, vocational and home training for parents. It is really an amazing organization that provides invaluable services and resources in an attempt to solve many of the social, educational, and economical woes of poor and underdeveloped towns and cities in Israel. He also used to be the Director of Meir Panim, a well-known and widespread soup kitchen organization in Israel.

He spoke to our group and I spoke to him privately afterward.
I asked him why he does what he does. Now he's a pretty religious guy - wears a bekeshe, long beard - a real chassid. To me that was surprising, that someone like that would be so committed to helping Israeli youth and attempt to improve Israel's social framework, and I asked him what made him different from other charedi people who don't seem to be trying to make a real difference in this world. He told me that actually a huge majority of Jewish chesed organization are run by chareidi or chassidic Jews. However, and this is a big however, most of those are intracommunal projects - providing services for one's own community and one's own social and religious circle. While valuable in its own right, it is somewhat selfish and shortsighted not to look outside of your own box, your own 'daled amot' when looking to make a difference and help people.

Moshe said that when started out as a teacher, he somehow came to small towns, like Yerucham, and he saw the tremendous lacking and needs that existed in those places. He thus decided that he would try and give people what they needed - and he built an organization around what people needed - food, clothing; simple things. This is the highest form of giving, he said, giving people what they need, what they want, not what you want to give them or what you think they want. It reminded me of a passuk and Rashi in parshat Eikev:
י:יח - עשה משפט יתום ואלמנה - הרי גבורה, ואצל גבורתו אתה מוצא ענוותנותו:
ואהב גר לתת לו לחם ושמלה - ודבר חשוב הוא זה, שכל עצמו של יעקב אבינו על זה נתפלל, "ונתן לי לחם לאכול ובגד ללבוש"
Here Rashi points out that the Torah delineates God's greatness in connection with His "modesty" and acts of chesed, specifically providing food and clothing. Rashi then emphasizes the greatness and Godliness of small acts like that, giving food and clothing, adding that it was all Yakov lived for as well.

Moshe then pointed out the distinction between this form of giving and kiruv, or as they call it, keyruv. He lamented the fact that 'kiruv' is about telling people something, saving them, giving them what you know is best for them. He said that when he goes to big rabbis to get approval and support for the work he is doing, they always ask him how much 'kiruv' he's doing. Why, he asked, couldn't they understand the value in helping poor, underprivileged Jewish, Israeli kids who needed some help, some hot food? Is that not the essence of giving and the greatest imitatio dei, Who gives to us what we need, not what He needs - for He needs nothing!

But even without being a 'kiruv' organization, through his programming that he provides he does make an impact on people in a religious sense as well. He told me one story that one hungry, homeless guy once came to Meir Panim for food. When he got up to the serving table and saw a chassidic guy running the center, he asked Moshe where the box of kippahs were to put on. Moshe replied to him "what do kippahs have to do with this? What does religion have to do with this? You're hungry, I have food, come and eat and be happy". He said that after a few weeks or months, this guy started coming with a kippah on his own, started bentching... That, he said, was the greatest form of kiruv, showing people what it means to be religious and inspiring them be like you - that believing in God means living a life a purpose and goodness. Nothing changes sterotypes of chassidim like a chassid serving food and running social programming to needy children and adults across all spectrum of Israel's society. Imagine if every frum person made this kind of impact on people - the masses would come flocking to be passionately involved in this life-changing and inspiring movement!

Now if only there were more people like Him/him in this world...

Three for three!

It isn't exactly a goal. Nor is it a game. Nor a statistic. It's really just something I was thinking about when emptying my pockets after Shabbat. For the past three Shabbatot, I made sure to put a couple of kippahs in my pocket before the beginning of Shabbat - you know, just in case. And all three weeks, including today, a situation arose where a male Jew asked me if I had an extra kippah, or if I knew where he could get one. Luckily, I did have one and I happily helped these Jews feel more comfortable in a religious setting. They were all pleasantly surprised that I did have an extra kippah in my pocket and it got me thinking - what if I didn't have one? What if they had asked someone else? Are other people giving out kippahs to other non-religious Jews looking to feel more comfortable or is it just me? Maybe if more people got into conversation with new, non-religious people and met them, these stories would happen to them. And then maybe I wouldn't be the only one walking around with extra kippahs in my pocket, nor the only one giving them out. By the way, I wasn't imposing it on anyone or marketing kippahs or other forms of religious coercion - these people came to me. Just pointing that out...

The kind of thing that doesn't only happen to me

Let me tell you a story that happened to me this past week.

It was the day before school officially started, around 7:00 PM. Dinner was winding down in the kosher dining hall in Hillel at Penn; they had stopped serving food at around 6:30 but there were still a bunch of people sitting around and eating, talking, hanging out. I was there supervising the food (mashing) and was about to lock up the kitchen to go pray when I saw a girl, who I didn't recognize, walk into the dining hall. She looked around, and upon seeing that they weren't serving food and seemed to be closed, left the dining hall. Sure, I could've gone on with what I was doing, but I stopped and thought for one second - "Hey, maybe I should go over and talk to that girl? Maybe she's looking for something?". So, making a quick decision, I dropped everything and I ran after her, only to see her with her hand on the door, about to leave. Quickly I called out to her, "Excuse me - do you need something? Do you want some help?" She turned around, surprised, and responded that yes, she was looking for something. After introducing myself to her, I asked her what brought her to Hillel. She told me that, actually, she just found out that she's Jewish and she came here to find out more.

Yep, apparently her mother was doing genealogical research and found that when her family came to America from Europe before WWII, their entry visas to Ellis Island stated their religion as Jewish. Now for whatever reason, and I suspect it to be fear of persecution or abandonment of their past, no one seemed to know that they were Jewish. Thus, the family grew up like normal, WASP-y Americans, goyim - until now. So this girl just found out for the first time in her life that she's Jewish and came to the only Jewish place she knew to find out what that meant. But as good as Hillel is, it's only a building and it's impact can only be as great as the students who occupy its space.

Wow! I mean, how do you respond to something like that! I was blown away by this story, and by the enthusiasm that she had for this new world she had stumbled upon. First I told her how exciting this was, and she seemed to agree with my sentiments. Then we started talking- about Shabbat, rabbis, different denominations, religiosity - and remember, this was her first time hearing about any of this. When said she might look some of it up on Wikipedia so she wouldn't be so overwhelmed, I told her that finding it out for herself, by meeting and talking to people was really the truest and best way of finding out what being Jewish is all about. She seemed really excited about that strategy and, while still insisting on doing some internet research, she said she was definitely excited to experience it on her own. I invited her for Shabbat dinner, while warning it that it might be a little overwhelming, but she didn't seem to mind, as she had been to Hillel dining before with some of her Jewish friends (she clearly didn't know how many people would be there that Friday night). When I told her about Shabbat and its Friday night services and dinner, she asked me whether it was going to be happening this week. I was thinking of telling her that yes, Shabbat will be happening every week for all of eternity, but instead told her that indeed it would be, and the general times. By now, we had been talking for almost half an hour and we both had to go. After making sure we remembered each others names to friend each other on Facebook, we parted ways and she finally left the building, but this time with a packet of all the Hillel programs and the comfort of her first friend as a Jew.

As I ran back to everything I had to do (locked the kitchen and davened mincha barely in time), I couldn't stop thinking about that encounter and how unbelievably incredible it was. Later that night and the following few days I told this story to around 50 people. One comment that I got a few times was 'Wow, these stories only happen to you', or '9 times out of 10 these people always find you'. But while that may be true, it doesn't have to be. This story happened to me because when I saw a new face in Hillel, who looked like she needed some help, instead of attending to the many thing I had to do, I went over and said 'hello'. And that's really how it started, a simple conversation, between two simple people, and it ended up being a life-changing, heart-to-heart discussion - at least for me. And for her - imagine her first experience 'as a Jew', and the difference between walking out of the Hillel building empty handed and coming out knowing someone and having an informative, meaningful, friendly and welcoming encounter with a fellow Jew - you never know what can happen from there. And it's so easy - that's the best part! She also asked me whether I worked in Hillel, or was in some position, and I told her that I was just a regular student, just like her, just a simple Jew. And that was also a powerful message - firstly for her, that it doesn't have to be someone from an organization or a paid 'director of engagement' who says 'hello' to her but even a simple student can do that, and cares enough to do that. Secondly, for everyone else, that you don't have to be a leader or in charge of some social committee in order to welcome someone in and say hello to someone new. Sure it's a little scary at first, but the more you do it the easier it gets and the more you realize that it was never so scary in the first place. And trust me, you'll find that the more attune you are to this, and the more aware you are of meeting new people and reaching out to people in need of a friend, information or just a listening ear, the more these kinds of things will happen to you.

Welcome! ברוכים הבאים!

Well here it is.

I gotta run, so I just want to wish everyone a shabbat shalom from the holy city of Yerucham, Israel.

Don't worry, much more to come soon...

love,
לב