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6 Little-Known Jewish Languages
Feb 27, 2021  |  by Dr. Yvette Alt Millerprint article
6 Little-Known Jewish Languages
Jewish communities around the world created their own language.

When the ancient Israelites were slaves in Egypt, they assimilated into Egyptian society – with three key exceptions. They never lost their distinctive Jewish mode of dress, they maintained their Jewish names, and they kept their Jewish language. These three features enabled them to just barely hold on to their Jewish identity.

Scattered far and wide, Jewish communities have carved out distinctive languages, keeping them somewhat apart from the larger non-Jewish communities surrounding them. Dr. Mary Connertey, Teaching Professor Emeritus at Penn State Behrend, explained to Aish.com that “Anywhere we (Jews) have lived we created our own language.”

Sometimes these “Jewish” languages are very similar to the dominant language around them, yet Jewish forms of languages contain clearly distinct elements. Hebrew words, quotes from Jewish prayers and elements from other languages picked up in the Jewish diaspora mark “Jewish” minority languages. The history of exile is etched into Jewish languages.

Here are six Jewish languages, spoken amongst Jews as a way of preserving their communities through the years.

Yiddish
Yiddish evolved among Jewish communities in Slavic and Germanic-speaking lands in the Middle Ages. Incorporating German, Hebrew, Aramaic, Slavic and other language elements, Yiddish is written using Hebrew letters. It was widely spoken in central and eastern European communities from the early Middle Ages until the decimation of Jewish communities in the Holocaust, and continues to be spoken in some Jewish communities in Europe, Israel, and in North and South America today.


Frontpage of Haynt, Today, a Yiddish newspaper published in Warsaw from 1906 to 1939.

In time, a number of different Yiddish dialects arose in Jewish communities throughout eastern Europe. “In each new setting elements from local vernaculars have been absorbed, modified to suit the Yiddish idiom,” noted historians Mark Zborowski and Elizabeth Herzog. “Whoever knows Yiddish can understand the Yiddish of anyone else, even though some of the words may be incomprehensible. Yet each region has its own accent and idioms, which can be recognized and identified.” (Quoted in Life is With People: The Culture of the Shtetl by Mark borowsky and Elizabeth Herzog, Schocken Press: 1952.)

Ladino
Ladino – sometimes variously called Judeo-Spanish, Judezmo, Judio, Jidio, or Spanyolit – is a language written with Hebrew characters that has been spoken by Sephardi Jews around the world for generations. It has its origins in Medieval Spain where the country’s large, vibrant Jewish community developed a unique way of speaking, blending Hebrew and even some Arabic words with Medieval Spanish.

Facing persecution from Islamic rulers in Spain, some Spanish Jews moved to North Africa in the 1300s and 1400s, bringing Ladino with them, establishing Ladino-speaking communities in Morocco.

A sample of Ladino

When Spain was unified under Catholic rule in 1492, the monarchs King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella marked the milestone by forbidding any Jews to live in the country on pain of death. 200,000 Jews fled the country, bringing Ladino with them.

Ladino-speaking Jewish communities existed for hundreds of years in North Africa, Yugoslavia, Romania, Greece, Bulgaria, Turkey, Egypt, and the Land of Israel. Through the years, local variants incorporated new linguistic elements from Turkish, French, Arabic and Italian. Today, Ladino is still spoken by thousands of Jews, many of them elderly.

Listen to this beautiful Ladino wedding song, Bayla, Bayla (Dance, Dance):


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The First Druze Attack Navigator in the Israeli Air Force
Feb 20, 2021  |  by Adam Rossprint article
The First Druze Attack Navigator in the Israeli Air Force
Over a distinguished career, Lieutenant Col. A had fought in the Second Lebanon War, Operations Pillar of Defense and Protective Edge. An exclusive Aish.com interview.

There are around 150,000 Druze Arabs living in Israel, mainly in the Galilee, Carmel region and Golan Heights. A monotheistic religion that dates back to the tenth century in Egypt which contains aspects of Islam and other religions, Druze principles focus on honesty, loyalty, piety, altruism and patriotic sacrifice. Druze Arabs are subject to conscription like other Israelis. Today there are thousands serving in the army, navy and air force.

“There was never any doubt that I wanted to pursue a career in the IDF,” Lt. Col A told Aish.com. He wanted to be an elite combat soldier or Navy Seal, but when he aced his physical and mental tests and was offered a place on the prestigious pilots course, he changed his mind. In a highly selective, grueling training course, each year only 40 pilots and navigators graduate to the air force. In 2003, Lt. Col A made history and became the first Druze attack navigator, beginning his combat service on the IAF’s F-16 fleet.


Lieutenant Colonel A, pictured with an F16. “The covenant that exists between the State of Israel and the Druze community is very strong; we are an inseparable part of Israel.”

“My community made a huge party with all of the local sheikhs and hundreds of guests. From my community’s reaction I understood that it was a big achievement.”

Now 38 years old, and a father of three, Lt. Col A, lives with his family at the Hatzerim Air force base in the Negev desert. Originally from the Carmel region, he is following in his father's footsteps defending Israel’s security. His father was a Brigadier General in the Police Force, while his grandfather, although born in Syria, made history becoming the first Druze officer in the IDF.


Lt. Col A's grandfather was originally a commander of Druze soldiers aligned with the Syrian army who invaded the newly-created State of Israel in 1948. He dramatically changed sides in the war.

“My grandfather volunteered to fight against Israel because the Druze were told that the Israeli army was attacking its indigenous Druze population.” Yet when he and his force crossed the border, a representative of the Druze community approached him and explained that he was lied to and that the Israelis were in fact on very good terms with the Druze population.

“At first, my grandfather thought it was an ambush, but then he believed what he had been told and returned to Syria. When senior officers heard he had refused to follow his orders, he was sentenced to hang.”

With his wife, and son. Lt. Col A has three children and lives with his family at the Hatzerim air force base in the Negev Desert.
His grandfather managed to flee across the border to Israel.

“The Druze community took him in, kept him safe and taught him some Hebrew. Soon after, he was made an officer in the IDF.” Lt. Col A's grandfather fought in the Six Day War, and was awarded a medal of bravery.

His grandfather died ten years ago. “We were extremely close,” he says. “I would go to him every day after school to drink coffee and talk together. When I finished the pilot’s course, he said it was the happiest day of his life. He said it was like a dream and closed the circle for him.”

Active service
“I always try to tell my family’s story to the other soldiers I meet. I feel it brings the soldiers closer together.” He adds, “The covenant that exists between the State of Israel and the Druze community is very strong; we are an inseparable part of Israel.”

During the Second Lebanon War in the summer of 2006, Lt. Col A was called to defend the north of Israel. “I was defending my own home and my family. I was part of missions destroying Hezbollah rocket batteries and launch pads. It was a great feeling of pride to be able to do this.”

Over the years, Lt. Col A has defended Israel in multiple operations and wars including Operation Pillar of Defense in 2012 against rocket attacks from terrorist groups in the Gaza Strip and in Operation Protective Edge two years later.

Druze soldiers excel throughout the IDF. Last year, Shaldag one of its most elite combat units welcomed its first Druze commander. (Picture courtesy IDF Spokesman)

Conflict of interests
With communities also in Lebanon and Syria, Israel’s Druze soldiers have often found themselves in situations fighting against family members.

“It is complicated,” Lt. Col A says. “My grandma lives in Lebanon, but I have no dilemma. One of the major tenets in our religion is an absolute commitment in defending the land where you live. Druze soldiers will give their life for this country.”

A 2017 race in memory of the Druze soldiers who have fallen in battle defending the State of Israel

Family Man
With a wife and three children aged 9,10 and 11, Lt. Col A acknowledges, “It’s not easy to be a family man during war times. The Israeli air force is one of the safest in the world, but like all things in life, there are dangers and I try to keep some things from my children.”

After several years of intense active duty, today Lt. Col A is now the Commander of the IDF Flight School. His responsibilities include overseeing the courses and training which prepare junior and senior officers for operations and for war.

In this role he has helped to establish several military academies within the Druze community which serve as feeders from schools to the air force.

“It sounds strange, but my best friends in the air force are religious and traditional Jewish soldiers. We share a love of tradition and that brings us together. I also have some friends who are Muslim Arabs. Most of them really respect what I do and an increasing number are choosing to enlist to the IDF and take more of a part in the country.

“As Druze soldiers, we certainly feel a sense of appreciation from other Israelis." Lt Col A concluded. "I am so proud to be Israeli, that I have reached such a high rank in the air force, and that we are now such an integral part of the army.”

https://www.aish.com/jw/id/Daring-Exploits-of-the-Man-who-Brought-120000-Jews-to-Israel.html?s=ac
Daring Exploits of the Man who Brought 120,000 Jews to Israel
Feb 23, 2021  |  by Dr. Yvette Alt Millerprint article
Daring Exploits of the Man who Brought 120,000 Jews to Israel
Like Queen Esther, Shlomo Hillel risked his life to miraculously save Jews of Babylonia, a province of Ancient Persia.

Shlomo Hillel was known for serving as Speaker of Israel’s Knesset, Minister of Police, Minister of Internal Affairs, and also working as an Israeli ambassador to several African countries.

But few people realized that Hillel was one of Israel’s most daring spies and secret operatives. In the 1940s and 1950s, he worked behind the scenes, paving the way for over 120,000 Iraqi Jews to flee and move to safety in Israel.

Hillel passed away on February 8, 2021 at the age of 97, just a few weeks before the Jewish holiday of Purim, when we recall the dramatic rescue of the Jews of ancient Persia. In some ways, Shlomo Hillel’s remarkable life – and the incredible odds he overcame to rescue Iraqi Jews – shares some of the danger and intrigue of the Purim miracles.

Jewish Community in Iraq
Jews lived in Iraq since ancient times. Annie Green, a fellow at the Katz Center for Advanced Judaic Studies at the University of Pennsylvania, notes that “The history of Jews in Iraq is a very long one, going back to 597 BCE when Jews from the Kingdom of Judah were exiled to Babylonia (Bavel in Hebrew).”

After the Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar destroyed the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem, he forced many of the nation’s Jews into exile in the North, in regions of present-day Iraq. The prophet Jeremiah was one of the exiled Jews and he described the heartbreaking scene: “By the Rivers of Babylon, there we sat and wept when we remembered Zion” (Psalms 137).


The Iraqi Jewish community became one of the most important in the world. Much of the Talmud was written there, and many Iraqi Jews were incredibly educated and successful, forming trading networks throughout Asia and the Middle East. Yet no matter how successful they became, Iraqi Jews lived largely separately from their Muslim and Christian neighbors, maintaining their own distinct traditions.

In the 1930s, some Iraqis began embracing Nazism. Mein Kampf was translated into Arabic and published in a Baghdad newspaper in 1933 and 1934. During World War II, Iraq was occupied by the British, but pro-German Nazi sympathies roiled throughout Iraqi society. In 1941, there was a coup in Iraqi leadership with an overtly pro-Hitler politician briefly gaining local power. During this period of turmoil, some Iraqis began turning on the Jews in their midst.

Looters destroyed Jewish-owned shops in the Iraqi city of Basra in 1941. According the US Holocaust Museum, some local Basra Muslims sheltered Jews from the violence in their homes. In the larger Iraqi city of Baghdad, however, the riots – known as the Farhud – turned deadly. Over a two-day period, looters ran wild, attacking 1,500 Jewish-owned homes and stores. Between 150 and 180 Iraqi Jews were murdered during the Farhud. 600 Jews were injured, and an untold number of Jewish women were attacked.

Growing up Jewish in 1930s Iraq
Like many Iraqi Jewish families, Shlomo Hillel’s family was large; he was the youngest of eleven children. And the Hillels were involved in international trade, specializing in importing tea and clothes into Iraq. Hillel had siblings who worked in India, England and Japan, and he travelled widely with his parents.

The Hillel family was intensely Zionist. Shlomo Hillel attended a Jewish school in Iraq, and he and his friends learned Hebrew, read Hebrew-language newspapers, and prepared to move to the land of Israel. By the 1930s, Hillel recalled that anti-Jewish and pro-Nazi sentiment was rising. When it became illegal to teach Hebrew in Iraqi schools, Shlomo’s older brother Eliyahu decided to move to the land of Israel.

My father said, "If this is what they do Christians, what’s going to happen to us?”
Then in 1933, a tragic event convinced the rest of the family to leave. Dozens of Assyrian Christian villages in the Dohuk and Mosul districts of present-day Iraq were attacked by Iraqi Muslim forces. Sometimes named the Simele Massacres, after one of the villages, the barbarity was horrible, with men, women and children murdered in gruesome ways, targeted for their Christian faith. “I remember the victory parade of the Iraq army through the main road of Baghdad,” Shlomo Hillel later recalled of the returning soldiers who were doused with rosewater and bedecked with flowers after killing the Assyrians. “My father said, ‘If this is what they do Christians, what’s going to happen to us?'” Shlomo and his family moved to present-day Israel soon afterwards.

Joining the Haganah
When he was 23, Hillel joined the Haganah, the Jewish community in Israel’s underground fighting force that became the Israeli Defense Forces when Israel finally achieved independence in 1948.

His first assignment was overseeing the construction of a top-secret underground bullet factory on a kibbutz near the Israeli town of Rehovot. There, underneath the noses of British troops who swarmed the area, 45 young Jews managed to manufacture over 4 million bullets that Israeli troops would soon need as they fought for survival in the Israeli War of Independence. It was an amazing accomplishment, but Hillel felt that more than bullets, Israel would need Jewish refugees to help it grow.

He asked to be reassigned, and the Haganah sent him to Iraq. Disguised as an Arab, Hillel was tasked with laying the groundwork for immigration to Israel. He taught local Jews Hebrew and helped smuggle some Iraqi Jews into Israel on trucks. No one knew his true identity: when dealing with Iraqi Jews, Hillel was known as “Shammai” (in Talmudic times, Hillel and Shammai were the heads of rival Jewish schools). In his relations with Iraqi Arabs, Hillel went by the name Amu Yusuf.

A plane filled with Iraqi Jews photographed on arrival at Lod Airport outside Tel Aviv in early 1951 (Teddy Brauner, GPO)

Iraq at the time was occupied by British troops. Some Jewish soldiers aided their Iraqi Jewish brethren, Hillel recalled: “Iraqi Jews, disguised as British soldiers, went into the backs of army trucks. These were mainly daring youngsters and a few hundred of them managed to flee this way.”

Planning the “Michaelberg” Flights
“I began to feel that this system of helping people escape individually or in small groups was challenging and inadequate if our goal was to enable the escape of thousands,” Hillel later described. “Yet at the time we had no other ways or means.” Iraq at the time was forbidding Jews to leave the country – and the British, who governed the land of Israel, let very few Jews into the country.

Hillel heard that there were some American pilots who had served in World War II had managed to acquire a cargo plane, and were looking for business opportunities. The Haganah got in touch with the pilots, saying – in Hillel’s telling – “Look, in Palestine there are some crazy people who are willing to pay a lot of money to smuggle Jews to Palestine.” Hillel recalled that “The pilots, who were not Jewish, agreed, saying, 'As long as they pay well, we’re in.'” One pilot’s name was Leo Wessenberg; the co-pilot was named Mike – Hillel never learned his last name. Combining the pilots’ names, Hillel came up with “Operation Michaelberg” to help bring Jews from Iraq into the land of Israel.

The Iraqi authorities would inspect any airline that was flying officially into or out of the country, so the Haganah’s original plan was for the “Michaelberg” plane to land in the desert and pick up Jews in secret. Hillel was charged with putting this plan into practice, but he had no idea how to pull it off. “The arrangement was made so quickly that I didn’t even have the time to think it through,” he later recalled.

“I literally left the kibbutz (where he lived) in the morning for a meeting with my bosses in Tel Aviv, and they asked me to leave immediately for Iraq. The three of us – the pilot, the copilot, and myself – took off the same day for Baghdad. As we neared the Baghdad airport, I gazed down on the vast desert to try to identify a good spot from which to pick up the passengers and take off. I realized there was no way for me to determine such a thing from the air. I suddenly panicked, feeling that I was in way above my head – that this whole secret airlift thing was a wacky idea.”

But watching planes taxiing for takeoff at Baghdad’s International Airport, Hillel had an audacious idea. Back then, it was common for airplanes to taxi to the end of runways, then wait there for about five minutes for their engines to warm up before taking off. The runways were about a mile long. What if Jews somehow hid nearby – a mile away from the airport itself – and then rushed onboard before the plane took off?

Hillel explained his idea to the pilots. “They thought I was out of my mind,” he remembered years later. “Eventually I convinced them,” he recalled.

The plane could carry 50 passengers, and within two days Hillel had arranged the operation. Fifty Iraqi Jews waited under cover of darkness near the edge of the runway; they’d already cut a hole in the airport fence. At dawn the airplane took off and flew to Yavniel, a farming community in the north of Israel, before the local occupying British soldiers were awake. Mossad agents met the airplane and handed sacks filled with money to the pilots. “We had succeeded – we had a system in place,” Hillel later explained.

The “Michaelberg” system was also used to ferry Jews from Italy into Palestine. Later on, it was also used to help smuggle desperately needed arms into the nascent Jewish state.

No Choice But to Help
Once Israel declared its independence and began fighting for its life in the War of Independence, the situation of Iraqi Jews became intolerable. “After the war broke out,” Hillel recalled, “we began to receive telegrams from our emissaries in Baghdad… The telegrams said, ‘The situation is horrible. Jews are being arrested and harassed. Please come and help us.’”

Given Israel’s dire situation – it was fighting for its very life – Hillel didn’t think there would be anything he could do. But he realized that giving up was not an option.

Giving up was not an option.
Two thousand years before, when the Jews in ancient Persia were in grave danger, our ancestor Queen Esther was asked what to help. The situation felt overwhelming and Esther hesitated. Given such bleak odds, how could she possibly succeed in saving her fellow Jews? But Esther rallied and intervened. Against all odds, she miraculously succeeded in saving the Jewish people.

In 1948, Shlomo Hillel felt that his situation was impossible too. “I didn’t think I could succeed there given the situation” in Iraq at the time, he later explained. But giving up wasn’t an option. “I recall thinking, ‘Let us not put ourselves in the position later in which we will have to answer when people say that we never responded to their calls for help when they were in the midst of such dire circumstances.’” Hillel felt that anything he could do, no matter how desperate, would help give his fellow Jews in Iraq hope.

Working with a “Jewish” priest
In June 1948, Hillel embarked on a top-secret mission to scope out the Iran-Iraq border, disguised as a Frenchman. He first travelled through Paris, and there Hillel connected with a remarkable asset: a Russian Jewish-born Catholic priest named Alexander Glasberg.

A Jew by birth, Glasberg had converted to Catholicism and become a priest, but it seems that he still felt a keen attachment to his Jewish community and perhaps even his Jewish identity. During the Holocaust, Glasberg had saved 2,000 Jewish boys by hiding them in monasteries. Now he was willing to help desperate Jewish refugees move to Israel and rebuild their shattered lives in the Jewish state.

Glasberg told Hillel that he had contacts among Assyrian Christians who lived along the Iraq-Iran border. Perhaps these Assyrians could help smuggle Jews out of Iraq and into Iran, bribing the Iranian police along the way – and from there move Iraqi Jews into Israel? Glasberg and Hillel went to visit the Assyrians to find out.

The Assyrians “were so miserable themselves that they couldn’t possibly help anyone else,” Hillel found. “In the end, I gave them a truck which we intended to use ourselves, but I saw they were in desperate need of a vehicle in their remote location.”

Hillel began making contacts within Iran’s large Jewish community, as well as exploring ways to bribe various Iranian officials. Soon, Hillel had assurances from Iranian police officials that in exchange for a massive bribe, they would allow Iraqi Jews to enter the country and to leave for Israel. The only problem now was finding a way to procure false visas for the Jews allowing them to leave Iran.

Glasberg came to the rescue. He was close friends with high level French officials. “How many visas do you want?” he asked. “I just threw a figure out,” Hillel later recalled; “I said 250. And he said, ‘All right, give me the names’. I didn’t know what to say – I had no names because I didn’t even know who the people who be. He said, ‘Without names, I can’t get you the visas.’ So I sat down and in one night, out of thin air I made up the names of 250 people – entire families with their aliases.” Within days, the French visas arrived. Hillel quickly assigned false names to the Iraqi Jewish refugees, matching them up with the made-up names on their visas.

“Eventually, our people in Iraq understood the meaning of my messages and began sending people to me in Iran,” Hillel remembered. “First it was two people, then 10, and then 15, and so on. Suddenly I had so many people I didn’t know what to do with them all because they had to wait in Tehran for a period of time while I arranged their visas and flights.” At first, Hillel put the refugees in a hotel, but soon there were so many refugees he couldn’t do that anymore. Hillel set up a camp in an old Iranian Jewish cemetery. Despite the misery of their living conditions, more and more Iraqi Jews clamored for Hillel’s help in escaping. Within a year, Hillel smuggled over 12,000 Iraqi Jews into Iran and then on to Israel.

The route they took was circuitous. Jews crossed from Iraq into Iran, and then with their new French visas they flew to Paris. From there, they took a train to Marseilles. Then they boarded airplanes owned by a charter airline called Trans-Ocean – which was run by a British Jew named Ronnie Barnett and backed by the Mossad – and flew from France to Israel.

Going Undercover as “Mr. Armstrong”
In 1950, Hillel returned to Israel and continued working on underground routes to bring Jewish refugees into Israel. In 1952, he married Temima Rosner, a Jewish immigrant refugee, who was originally from Vienna.

The smuggling route that Hillel had established between Iraq and Iran soon became an open secret. A New York Times reporter even travelled there and wrote about what he saw. The fact that so many Jews were leaving Iraq became an embarrassment, Hillel believed. He credits the escape route he’d established with opening the door to even more Jewish emigration from Iraq.

In 1950, the seasoned Iraqi politician Tawfeeq Al-Suwaidi assumed Iraq’s premiership once again. Here, a series of coincidences began to come into play – much like the Purim story, in which the presence of God is hidden by a series of seeming “coincidences”.

Prime Minister Al-Suwaidi's next door neighbor happened to be a Jew by the name of Yehezkel Shemtov. Shemtov was a cousin of Shlomo Hillel – and he’d also recently taken over as the elected head of the Baghdadi Jewish community. Prime Minister Al-Siwaidi complained to Shemtov that so many Iraqi Jews were leaving the country in secret, it was making the country look back.

Shemtov replied, “Probably the whole story is about hot-headed youngsters who have finished school and now your government is not letting them get public sector jobs and they are unemployed. Let them go. There can’t be more than five or six thousand of them. Why do you want to keep them here against your will? You get rid of them and we’ll be rid of them too.”

Incredibly, in 1951, Al-Suwaidi took Shemtov’s advice. Any Jew who wished to leave Iraq could do so. Within months, nearly the entire Jewish community – about 104,000 people – had registered to leave Iraq.

Hillel recalls that Israeli government officials were shocked. Israel was an impoverished nation and it seemed impossible that it could absorb so many refugees – especially after Al-Suwaidi made it clear that Iraqi Jews could bring no assets and nearly no luggage with them. Nonetheless, Israel began to prepare for the mass exodus of Iraqi Jews. “We began working on a way to airlift everyone out – and swiftly, before the Iraqi government could have a change of heart,” Hillel recalled.

Hillel adopted an alias of an American businessman named Richard Armstrong and travelled to Baghdad with a business proposition. He travelled with Ronnie Barnett, the British Jew who’d run Trans-Ocean Airlines, which ferried Iraqi Jews from France into Israel. This time, they represented another Mossad-backed travel venture, the Near East Air Transport Company. Based in the US, this travel firm was real: it was owned by James Wooten, the non-Jewish businessman who as owner of Alaska Airlines had overseen the airlift of Yemenite Jews to Israel. Ronnie Barnett was the managing operator. Together they wished to bid on a contract to fly Iraqi Jews to Israel.

“Mr. Armstrong'' managed to gain an audience with Prime Minister Al -Suwaidi himself. Also in the meeting was Yehezkiel Shemtov, Hillel’s cousin. Hillel was petrified that his cousin would betray some form of recognition, but Shemtov never said a word, treating his cousin as “Mr. Richard Armstrong” instead.

The Prime Minister opened the meeting by explaining to the businessmen that illegal emigration was terrible for Iraq because fleeing Jews were smuggling property out of the country and leaving behind unpaid debts and taxes. “I pretended to be sympathetic to this nonsense,” Hillel recalled, “then we got down to business.” They agreed to work with an Iraqi travel agency – which was partially owned by Prime Minister Al-Suwaidi. The men agreed on the cost for each Iraqi Jew’s passenger ticket – which included a hefty bribe – and Yehezkiel Shemtov assured the Prime Minister that the Jewish community of Iraq would guarantee the fares of each and every Jew who left.

Soon the details were agreed. The Meir Tweig Synagogue in Baghdad became a center for Iraqi Jews to renounce their citizenship. Baghdad’s Mesouda Shemtov Synagogue was transformed into a departure station for Jews on their way to Israel. It was where departing Jews received their travel documents and instructions for which flight to catch.

The resulting operation – dubbed “Ezra and Nehemiah” after the Biblical leaders who led the Jewish people out of exile in Babylonia and back to the Land of Israel – saved 130,000 Iraqi Jews. The New York Times wrote that it was the biggest air migration that the world had ever seen. Only a few thousand Jews remained behind in Iraq; by 2008, fewer than ten Jewish men remained in all of Iraq.

Bringing Ethiopian Jews to Israel
Shlomo Hillel went on to occupy a number of positions in Israeli politics, including serving as Minister of the Interior. In that position, he signed an ordinance to include Ethiopian Jews in Israel’s Law of Return, assuring citizenship to Jews around the world who request it. Because of Hillel's action, 120,000 Ethiopian Jews later immigrated to the Jewish State. The massive airlift dubbed Operation Solomon, which saw 14,324 Ethiopian Jews airlifted to Israel in one 36-hour period alone in 1991, recalled the joy and excitement of the airlifts of Iraqi Jews years before.

One of those Ethiopian Jews who entered Israel thanks to Shlomo Hillel was a young woman named Enatmar Salam. In college, she met Shlomo’s son Ari, and the two later married. They eventually realized that Shlomo Hillel had made it possible for Enatmar and her family to immigrate to Israel. “Isn’t that a miracle?” Ari Hillel asked at his father’s funeral. “How many times has a person been rewarded for his actions already in this world?”
When Esther hesitates for a brief moment to see the king and put her life in danger, Mordechai tells her, “Who knows whether it was just for such a time as this that you attained the royal position?” (Book of Esther 4:14). Like Esther, we each are born into a moment where our unique skills and abilities are needed. Shlomo Hillel was a man who was blessed with seeing the results of his years of actions.
Like our Jewish forebears, he fought tirelessly for his fellow Jews. Countless thousands of Jews today reside in security in Israel due to Shlomo Hillel’s life of service.

https://www.aish.com/h/purim/t/Queen-Esthers-6-Lessons-for-Today.html?s=ac
Queen Esther's 6 Lessons for Today
Feb 18, 2021  |  by Slovie Jungreis-Wolffprint article
Queen Esther's 6 Lessons for Today
Timeless messages that Esther wanted every man, woman and child to hear.
Queen Esther asked that the scroll relaying her story, Megillat Esther, be written and shared for generations to come. She wanted every man, woman and child in every land for eternity to hear her timeless message. Queen Esther lived a legacy that speaks to us until today.

Here are six life lessons from Queen Esther:

1. Master Silence
The key to Esther remaining in the palace of Achashverosh was her keeping a secret. Mordechai told Esther not to reveal her origins, that she was a Jew. The time was not yet ripe; Esther was required to master the quality of silence.

There are times in life that we must guard our privacy or someone’s confidence. How many relationships have been harmed and friendships broken because we could not keep silent? We were given a trust to keep and couldn’t contain ourselves. Or we overshared and exposed intimate details of our life. In our world of social media, we are privy to many photos and conversations that should really be kept hidden. Modesty isn’t just about dress. It's about living with dignity and sensitivity, knowing what and when to share, and what and when to keep private.

2. You Have a Unique Life Mission
Esther is told by Mordechai that she must speak to the king and plead for her people. She replies: That’s impossible. Everyone knows the rule of the kingdom: If you enter the king’s chambers without his beckoning, you will be killed unless he extends his golden scepter. “I haven’t been called for 30 days!” she relays to Mordechai.


Mordechai’s reply gives Esther direction. “You cannot remain silent. Who knows? It might be that you were chosen to be queen just for this moment!”

Every encounter, talent and strength that we have been given is for a purpose. Each of us has our own unique spiritual fingerprints to leave in this world. God places us exactly where we need to be to accomplish our mission. Esther is asking us to discover the meaning of our existence.

3. Live with Courage and Compassion
After accepting her mission, Esther says, “I will go to the king. And if I die, I die.”

I will give it my all. I will muster the courage to do my best.

As seasons of life pass, many people are left with their regrets, If only… but the moment is lost.

Esther is telling us to seize courage, step up to the plate and at least know forever that you tried to make a difference.

In one of my mother’s final interviews she was asked “What do you want it to say on your gravestone?”

She replied “I want it to say two words: I cared.”

4. Look for God’s Hidden Hand
In the entire Scroll of Esther there is no clear mention of God. The name ‘Esther’ means hidden in Hebrew, ‘Megillah’ means revelation. Esther is revealing a powerful hidden truth.

How easy it is to think that life is a series of random events. The story of Purim could seem to be a natural story that took place over the course of many years. The king just happened to choose this sweet innocent young Jewish woman, Mordechai just happened to hear a plot against the king, the king just happened to suffer from a bout of insomnia, and all the pieces just fell into place.

Esther is urging us to wake up; see God’s hidden hand in your every day. It’s not only about the big miracles, like the splitting of the sea. It's about the little moments. God is in every sunrise, every soul, every success or disappointment life brings. We won't always understand God’s ways but His presence is here, even now amidst this most challenging time our world is facing.

Esther refused to lose hope when it seemed as if God’s protective presence was lost in a dark fog. She knew that ultimately, even if it feels as if God’s hand is hidden, He is directing and watching over us. He will never abandon us.

5. Don’t Bow to Haman
Mordechai refused to kneel or bow down to Haman.

Every generation has its Haman. Any force that threatens your ability to connect to your soul or tries to cool your passion for what is right and truth is ‘Haman’. Haman descends from Amalek, the first nation that tried to destroy the Jewish People after leaving Egypt. We were on a high, connected to God, inspired to become a blessing in this world. They tried to squash our spirit.

There will always be people who belittle your desire to be better and live higher. There will be those who mock your standing for truth, for your people, and the land of Israel. Don’t crumble. Don’t bow. Never lose your passion for goodness. Stay strong as Mordechai did.

6. Unity brings Strength
Haman describes the Jewish people as a nation “dispersed and divided” to the king. His words are jolting. "They are constantly bickering and quarreling with each other. Don’t worry about them joining together and mounting a united offensive, they can’t agree on anything. No one will come to their defense because they are hated. Get rid of them."

Esther succeeds in her mission to save her people by uniting the Jews and bringing them together in prayer and fasting. And she leaves a wish for us, her children. Esther asks that we celebrate this day together with joy, parties, charity, and sending food portions to one another. Esther is telling us to create a feeling of unity and peace. The antidote to all the bickering and hatred is reaching out to one another with friendship. Unity brings strength.

Our enemies never asked, "What type of Jew are you?" No one was spared the gas chamber based on their observance or head covering.

We don’t have to be the same. We must only know that we are brothers and sisters, one family.

Stop judging. Start loving.

May you have a joyful Purim.

https://www.aish.com/h/purim/t/Facemasks-and-Purim-Masks-The-Pandemics-First-Anniversary.html?s=ac
Facemasks and Purim Masks: The Pandemic's First Anniversary
Feb 16, 2021  |  by Rabbi Benjamin Blechprint article
Facemasks and Purim Masks: The Pandemic's First Anniversary
We're all looking forward to the day when masks will no longer conceal God's presence, nor be required by a soon-to-be conquered pandemic.

The Covid-19 pandemic which so horrifically changed our lives this past year remains inextricably linked with the holiday of Purim.

It's true that history books will record that the outbreak was initially reported to the World Health Organization on December 31, 2019. The first confirmed death took place in Wuhan on January 9, 2020 and it was on January 30 that the WHO declared Covid-19 a global health emergency. But for most of us, it wasn’t until Purim of last year that we first realized the severity of the pandemic.

It was the first time we were forced to think about whether we needed to change our plans for the Purim festive meal. Purim ended up becoming a super spreader and many people, unaware of the severity of the virus, contracted it at large neighborhood parties. It was the first time we seriously had to reconsider attending shul and figure out alternative venue for hearing the reading of the Megillah. And then we had to think the unthinkable – we might have to cancel our Passover plans and who knows what else was meant to be in our future.

It is a year later and I can't get over the fact that Jews around the world traditionally observed Purim by putting on a mask. But this time masks would not come off at the conclusion of the holiday. Masks became necessities. Masks became the law. Not a Purim custom but a pandemic requirement.

Although Purim masks and protective facemasks are different, there may be a profound connection. To grasp its deeper meaning, let's reflect on the reason masks made their way into celebrating Purim in the first place.


Masks hide what's behind them. And that's why masks became identified with the story of Purim. The Scroll of Esther has a unique characteristic. It tells us all about Esther and Mordecai, yet it omits the name of God. God is hidden in a book commemorating a miracle for which He is clearly to be credited. How strange!

Stranger still is the name of the person who is accorded the honor of the book’s title. It is known to this day as Megillat Esther. The Talmud asks a peculiar question: where is Esther to be found in the Five Books of Moses? The query makes no sense. The Torah predates Esther by many many centuries. There is no way Esther could possibly be found in the Torah. Yet the Talmud answers that there is a biblical verse which alludes to her – and to her significant role as savior of the Jewish people from the genocidal plans of Haman in later day Persia. In Deuteronomy 32:20 God prophetically tells the Jewish people there will come a time when “I will hide my face from them.” In Hebrew the phrase for hiding is haster aster – the very root letters of the name Esther. That was the genius of the Talmudic rabbis. They recognized Esther as a “hidden” way of identifying God’s presence.

In the Megillah, ostensibly the story of a miracle performed by God, His name is absent, hidden by the countless “coincidences” that are really the results of concealed divine intervention. The very word "Megillah" means not only scroll but also “to reveal.” The mitzvah of reading Megillat Esther is in a more profound sense mean to inspire us to uncover God when he chooses to test us by remaining hidden.

When God wears a mask, our task is to acknowledge His guiding presence even when we can’t clearly make out His face.
There are times when God wears a mask, and our task is to acknowledge His guiding presence even when we can’t clearly make out His face.

Purim is not like Passover. The Passover miracles were clear and indisputable. Purim requires a greater level of wisdom and understanding. All other holidays, says the Talmud, will eventually be eliminated – except for Purim. Purim is the paradigm of our challenge to maintain our faith even when His face is hidden behind a mask of seeming indifference to our plight.

We need to remember that the Jews of the Purim story spent agonizing years as spectators to frightening events. The party in Shushan recorded at the beginning of the Megillah was held by the king to celebrate his conquest of the holy items of the temple. The rise of Haman and his genocidal plot against the Jewish people played out over a lengthy period of time which surely tested faith in God and his continued presence.

We've spent a year in distress, incomprehension and agony. Some of our greatest spiritual giants were taken from us in this year of horror. Families witnessed the untimely – and sometimes exceedingly painful – death of loved ones. The world has changed in so many ways that we can hardly begin to count them or even to be fully aware of their extent and future influence.

On this first anniversary that coincides with Purim, let's reaffirm that although we do not understand, we continue to have faith. Like Purim, at times God puts on a mask and conceals His presence and His purpose. But as Purim also teaches us, miracles of salvation are part of the story as well, and we have every certainty that the day will come when masks will no longer conceal the Almighty’s presence – nor be required by a soon-to-be conquered pandemic.

https://www.aish.com/jw/s/Last-Survivor-of-Legendary-Warsaw-Orphanage-Dies-in-Israel.html?s=ac
Last Survivor of Legendary Warsaw Orphanage Dies in Israel
Feb 13, 2021  |  by Adam Rossprint article
Last Survivor of Legendary Warsaw Orphanage Dies in Israel
A beacon of hope during the Nazi occupation, the orphanage directed by Dr Januscz Korczak was built on the pioneering ideas of respecting and empowering every child.

Janusz Korczak, a specialist in children’s medicine who wrote over 20 books advocating for children’s rights for respect, founded and directed a Jewish orphanage in Warsaw that became famous throughout Europe for its pioneering ideas empowering children to maximize their potential.

Last month, the last surviving member of the orphanage, painter and sculptor Itzchak Belfer, died in Tel Aviv at aged 98. He had dedicated much of his life to preserving the memory of the man who had given him hope and believed in him as a child. Belfer’s granddaughter Neta said her grandfather had lived according to the values he had learned from Korzcak, and described him as “the most optimistic person I have ever met.”

Janusz Korczak with children at the ‘Dom Sierot’ – Orphanage in Warsaw

“Children are not only the people of tomorrow, they are entitled to be taken seriously today”, Korzcak wrote. “They have a right to be treated by adults with tenderness and respect and should be allowed to grow into whoever they were meant to be – the unknown person inside each of them is the hope for the future.”

In 1940, Korzcak’s orphanage was forced to move to the Warsaw Ghetto, and in 1942 he was sent to his death along with all of its children and staff. An icon for hope in the face of darkness, Korzcak dedicated his life to bettering the life of his children even when his own health failed. In a sign of defiance to the Nazis when they occupied Poland, always looking to inspire the children to live with values, he refused to wear a blue star on his arm showing his disdain for those who would discriminate and disrespect others.

“You will stay here, I will go home”
Itzchak Belfer was born in April 1923 to a religious Jewish family in Warsaw and was one of six children. His father was a poor merchant who also served as the tzedaka (charity) collector in his synagogue.

His father died when he was four and Itzchak’s mother struggled to provide for her children. In 1930, she approached Janusz Korczak to take in her son to live in the orphanage and go to school there.

Itzchak Belfer as a young boy
“Things were very cramped at home, we lived with my grandmother and grandfather, there was no room to play, and my mother saw that my studies were falling," Belfer told an audience of Israeli schoolchildren in 2006. "‘Itzchakele, we are going to see a house’," he recalled his mother telling him as she led him across the city.

“My mother left me and I stayed behind in the Garden of Eden."

Belfer lived at the orphanage for seven years and would visit his mother and family every Friday morning. Korzcak, along with Stefania (Stefa) Wilczyńska, the house mother, created a haven for hundreds of children, empowering them with values of responsibility and respect. The orphanage had its own parliament, court and newspaper, and each child had individual responsibilities.

“We had a large library about the world and under it there were 107 small drawers, one for each child.” He added, “Every child had value, had a place with their own name, their own world.”

At his home in Tel Aviv, Itzchak Belfer’s talent for drawing was first spotted at Korczak's orphanage.

“Dare to dream,” Korzcak would tell his children. “Something will always come of it.”

Belfer enjoyed drawing as a child and was amazed when Stefa asked to speak with him. “Yitzhakele, I know you love to draw," she said. “I will buy you paper, colors and paints, and after lessons when you are free, you can sit and paint in the little room over there.” He was nine years old at the time.

“There was no one happier,” Belfer said. “That’s how I started my career. Those moments painting were so precious to me as well as I would also have some time on my own to think."

The orphanage building today in Warsaw, where a monument stands in memory of Janusz Korzcak.

“Korczak always led by example,” Belfer said. “Rather than use force, he would use respect.”

When staff would regularly weigh the children to make sure they were not malnourished Korzcak had a unique way to ensure the children would stay healthy and well.

“Those children who were too thin would be given a cup of cod liver oil with their name to drink. I drank it for many years,” Belfer said. “It was really not very nice to drink, but Korzcak stood near the table and when there were those children who refused, he would take a little bread, close his eyes drink a cup of oil and eat the bread. This way he would teach us how to overcome difficult things in life.”

Painting by Itzchak Belfer
Leaving Warsaw
At the age of 15, in 1938, Itzchak graduated and returned to his family to help support them financially. He continued to visit the orphanage as a volunteer, helping the younger children.

Then the Nazi forces conquered Poland in 1939. Itzchak and a friend decided to leave Poland to join the Soviets to fight against the Nazis. Before he left, he went to say goodbye to Korczak.

"It was a difficult moment. Korczak took out all of the money he carried in his pockets and gave it to us. We received his blessing and fled."

Fleeing to Belorussia, the pair reached a refugee camp in Malkini and Itzchak was later sent to forced labor in coal mines in the Urals. In 1941, he migrated to Tashkent where he was drafted to the Red Army and was stationed in one of the cavalry regiments. When the battalion was disarmed Itzchak was sent to work in a factory until the war ended.

Belfer reached Israel in 1949 after being detained by the British in Cyprus.
Returning to Warsaw
In 1946, after the war, Belfer returned to Poland in search of his mother, grandparents and siblings and found Warsaw in ruins. He found no trace of his family and the orphanage lay empty.

Once a third of Warsaw’s population, the city’s Jewish community had been decimated. Of the 400,000 Jews the Nazis had crammed into the ghetto, barely any remained. On August 5 1942, after he had declined multiple offers to avoid deportation, insisting he would not leave his children, Janusz Korzcak had led the 200 children of their orphanage through the streets of Warsaw to the deportation meeting point – their heads held high and singing as he continued to shield them from the bitter fate that awaited them. From there they were taken by train to the gas chambers at the Treblinka death camp.

The monument to Janusz Korczak which stands at Yad Vashem in Jerusalem

New life in Israel
The sole surviving member of his family, Itzchak Belfer left Poland to Czechoslovakia, then Austria and finally to Genoa, Italy where he met a member of the Jewish Agency who was calling for Jews to emigrate to Israel.

Embarking on the ship, Af Al Pi Chen, (Despite all of this) Belfer was interned by the British in a detainee camp in Cyprus in 1947 where he met and studied with future renowned Israeli artist and sculptor Ze’ev Ben Zvi. In 1949, he finally reached Israel, where he was drafted and served as a soldier for two years. In 1961, aged 39, Belfer married Rosa, an immigrant from Morocco and a year later Haim, his only child, was born.

Always positive about life, Itzchak Belfer was the last of Janusz Korzcak's orphans.

Talented artist
Studying at the Avni Institute for Art and Design, where later he also taught painting, Itzchak Belfer began a distinguished career as an artist. Much of his work preserves the world that he lost, and the treasured memories he had of Korczak. His Tel Aviv apartment was filled with artwork bearing Korczak’s image. For 30 years he only produced artwork in black and white, until his wife convinced him to paint in color and expand his repertoire and start to bring to life the beauty of the Land of Israel. He said “I live a good life, a happy life with the love of life and the love of my family around me.”

Belfer’s works have been displayed in numerous exhibitions in Israel and internationally. One sculpture which stands in the city of Günzburg, Germany depicts Korzcak surrounded by a group of his children.

Korzcak’s beliefs about respect, responsibility and positivity never left Belfer, who volunteered his time, well into his nineties, teaching drawing classes for Tel Aviv municipality workers and their families. Known for his love of life, broad smile and appreciation for all that he had, in 2016, he published an animated children’s book, “The Man Who Knew How to Love Children,” about his experiences in Korczak’s orphanage.

“I feel a responsibility to talk about his memory, about the orphanage and about the miraculous educational environment that I was lucky to be a part of,” he said when the book was published. “It was home, and in many ways it still is.”

Granddaughter's reflections
A devoted grandfather, Belfer also embodied the values Korzcak taught him as a child. “He would always ask me what I thought about things and would encourage me to stand up for myself and have an opinion of my own,” his granddaughter Neta told Aish.com.

“When I was two years old, he brought me painting equipment and set up a place for me in his studio for me to paint if I ever wanted. I played the piano and he always encouraged me in this as well.”

“I think his life is a unique and rare example of living an amazing life despite all of the difficulties. Even though he went through the worst nightmares you can imagine, he was the most optimistic person I ever met.”

https://www.aish.com/jw/s/Garlic-and-Jews-6-Little-Known-Jewish-Facts.html?s=ac
Garlic and Jews: 6 Little-Known Jewish Facts
Jan 30, 2021  |  by Dr. Yvette Alt Millerprint article
Garlic and Jews: 6 Little-Known Jewish Facts
Garlic has long been associated with Jewish life and cooking.
Garlic, a plant that’s native to Central Asia, has long been prized for its sharp, delicious taste. Since Biblical times, garlic has been beloved by Jews, and has also been considered a Jewish food for much of history. Here are six little-known Jewish facts about this pungent food.
Longing for Garlic in Egypt
Garlic was so prized by Egyptian cooks that remains of garlic bulbs have been found in burial chambers. These were meant to be enjoyed by Egyptian noblemen in the afterlife.

After leaving Egypt, the now-freed Jewish slaves still longed for garlic. “We remember the fish that we ate in Egypt,” the freed Israelites complained to Moses as they wandered in the wilderness on their way to Israel: “...the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic.” (Numbers 11:5).

Garlic as a Key Shabbat Ingredient
In ancient times, garlic was a central part of celebrating Shabbat. The Talmud devotes several passages to talking about garlic, explaining that it is a key part of Shabbat meals. “With what does one delight in the day of Shabbat?” the Talmud asks, recording an answer provided by Rav Yehuda, son of Rav Shmuel bar Sheilat, who recalled the words of his teacher Rav: “With a dish of beetroot, and a large fish, and heads of garlic” (Talmud Shabbat 11b). Elsewhere, the Talmud refers to Jews who celebrate Shabbat as “garlic eaters,” so closely identified was Shabbat dinner and lunch with this fragrant vegetable. (Talmud Nedarim 31a)

The Jewish sages ascribed important qualities to garlic: “It satisfies, it warms (the body), it causes one’s countenance to shine... some say that it also instills love into those who eat it and removes jealousy from them.” (Bava Kamma 82a)


 
Garlic has long been associated with romance – despite its strong smell – and Talmud also describes garlic as way to foster feelings of love. A Shabbat meal containing garlic, in particular, is described as a way to create a romantic atmosphere between husbands and wives on Shabbat. (One 2016 study seems to bear this out, finding that “the odor of people after an increased garlic dosage was assessed as significantly more pleasant and attractive…” The study authors posited that this might be because garlic’s positive health effects make people more healthy and therefore more attractive to others.)

Garlic as a “Jewish” Food
Food historian Claudia Roden explains that “the Sephardim have a reputation as vegetable lovers even by Mediterranean standards.” Jews living throughout the Mediterranean region were strongly associated with the use of vegetables in their cooking – including garlic. In fact, garlic was so popular in Jewish dishes that it began to be considered a “Jewish” food. “Jews were always known as onion and garlic eaters,” Claudia Roden explains. “In Istanbul, when Jews avoided the plague during a terrible epidemic, it was said that the virus did not penetrate the Jewish area because of the smell of garlic.” Jews hung bulbs of garlic outside their doors to ward off the plague as a talisman and sign of good luck.

In some Muslim communities, eating garlic is discouraged and looked down upon. The use of garlic was thus a stark divider between Jewish and Muslim cooking customs, even in areas where Jews and Muslims lived in close proximity to each other.

Gil Marks, another food historian, observes, “Historically, the addition of garlic was among the typical Jewish touches that enhanced local dishes. In many cultures, the presence of garlic marked a dish as Jewish.” Roden notes that stewing meat and vegetables in a sauce made of onions and tomatoes was long seen as a quintessential Jewish way of cooking – the addition of garlic was a common way to add even more flavor to Jewish stews.

The Medieval Italian Hebrew poet Immanuel ben Solomon of Rome, also known as Manoello, penned a comic poem in the late 1200s called From the Hungry, Praise, in which he described the garlic’s role in Jewish eating in extravagant terms: “For heart’s redeemer is the onion...garlic, leek, my peace… Garlic is earth’s stag and blossom…”

The Jewish “Garlic Communities” of Germany
In the Middle Ages, the German areas around the towns of Speyer, Worms and Mainz were home to large, vibrant Jewish communities. A popular acronym for these areas took the first letter from each town – S, W (which is written with a double “U” sound in Hebrew) and M – echoed the Hebrew word for garlic, shoom. The area was known as Kehillas Shoom – the community of “Shum”, or garlic in Hebrew.

So identified were German Jews with garlic that some anti-Semitic images persist from the Middle Ages and Renaissance, depicting Jews holding or posing with bulbs of garlic. Some of these anti-Jewish images show a Jew holding garlic in one hand and a bag of money in the other.

Garlic heads, money bag, and yellow badge as the insignias of a medieval, and here renaissance Jew of the city of Worms. (Wiki Commons: Thesaurus Picturarum of Marcus zum Lamm, March 3, 1544 – February 13, 1606.)
Garlic, Danger and the Spanish Inquisition
By the 1490s, Jews were so closely associated with the consumption of garlic that during the Spanish Inquisition merely eating garlic could draw suspicion and single out Jews for torture and death. Andrew Bernaldez was chaplain to the Archbishop of Seville in Spain during the Inquisition and wrote about the hunting down of Jews that he witnessed in his Historia de los Reyes Catolicos. In it, he chillingly describes how eating garlic could single one out as a Jew.

Bernaldez’s hatred makes his prose difficult to read even today: “Just as heretics and Jews have always fled from Christian doctrines, so they have always fled from Christian customs,” the priest wrote; “They...never lose the Jewish habit of eating garbage of onions and garlic fried in oil…” He singled out the smell of garlic as something that could identify a home as belonging to Jews. Even Jews who publicly pretended to be Christian continued to eat garlic, which Bernaldez viewed as evidence that Jews were continuing to practice their religion in secret and were therefore subject to the violence of the Inquisition.

Garlic and Good Luck
In some Jewish communities, garlic is associated with good luck and the avoidance of evil. Among Sephardi Jews, garlic was associated with warding off the “evil eye”. In Ladino, the traditional language of Sephardic Jews, the word for garlic, ajo, sounds much like the word for eye, ojo. After complimenting someone, it was customary to ward off the evil eye (thought to bring bad luck) by saying Al ajo ke se la vaiga – literally “let it go to (be absorbed by) the garlic.”

In some Sephardi communities, it was customary to put a bulb of garlic on a pillow next to a baby boy at his bris, and to give out garlic as a gift to guests at a baby boy’s pidyon haben (a ceremony performed with a firstborn baby boy).

In Yiddish, the prominent role of garlic in Jewish culture is reflected in the saying Az men est nisht kayn knobl, shrink men nit – “If you don’t eat garlic, you won’t smell bad.” The meaning is that if you do nothing wrong you’ll have nothing bad to hide.

https://www.aish.com/jw/s/Jews-of-Myanmar-10-Facts.html?s=ac
Jews of Myanmar: 10 Facts
Feb 6, 2021  |  by Dr. Yvette Alt Millerprint article
Jews of Myanmar: 10 Facts
Myanmar, formerly known as Burma, has a fascinating Jewish history.
Here are some little-known facts about Myanmar, Jews, and the Jewish state.
Early Jewish Visitors
In the early 1800s, Jewish traders – primarily from India and Iraq – began to venture into present-day Myanmar. The first Jew to live permanently in the country is said to have been an Indian Jew named Solomon Gabirol, who served as commissar in the army of King Alaungpaya, the 18th Century Burmese monarch who established the Konbaung Dynasty, which ruled Burma until 1885.

Once British forces entered Burma in the 1820s, there are records of some Jewish traders working in the country. One of them, Solomon Reinman, moved from Galicia to the bustling city of Rangoon in 1851, where he traded teak and bamboo. Reinman later moved to the Indian city of Cochin, which had a Jewish community at the time, married, and spent 25 years there. Late in life, he returned to Europe, moved to Vienna and wrote a Hebrew-language account of his travels called Masot Shelomo, or Travels of Solomon. It was one of the first western accounts of Myanmar.

Bringing Baghdad Jewish Culture to Burma
By the mid-1800s a large community of Jews from Baghdad lived and worked in Burma. Writer Ruth Fredman Cernea, author of Almost Englishman: Baghdadi Jews in British Burma (Lexington Books: 2006) notes that these Jewish traders came “as an extended family,” and used their extensive social and familial connections to facilitate trade throughout Asia.

In addition to trading a range of goods, she notes, “They also serviced the ships that docked in the busy Rangoon harbor. Some entered the civil service as government officials and customs officers; others worked as clerks in Baghdadi stores on Mogul or Dalhousie Streets (in Rangoon). Even as they became more comfortable in Burma, the Burma Jewish community was an intrinsic part of the broader Baghdadi world that existed throughout Southeast Asia…. Rangoon or Mandalay (another Burmese city) might be their mailing address, but their ‘home’ could not be so easily defined or confined.” These Jewish traders brought a slice of Baghdadi Jewish life to their new homes overseas.

Jewish Cultural Mixing

 
Soon, other Jews began to settle in Burma. Ruth Fredman Cernea notes that although the Baghdadi Jews were sophisticated traders, their English was often poor and prevented them working for Burma’s new British colonizers. Instead, it was Indian Jews – from the city of Cochin which had long been home to a thriving Jewish community and poorer Bene Israel Jews from smaller towns and villages – who were often more fluent in English and who found it easier to work for the British.



Indian Jews soon could be found in Rangoon working as clerks both for British colonialists and Baghdadi Jewish traders. Some Bene Israel workers labored at the docks in the Burmese port of Mandalay.

Arook Thayin: Chicken Croquettes Burmese Style
Food historian Claudia Roden notes that culinarily, “It was Jews of Baghdadi origin who organized the congregation (of Burmese Jews), and it is their style of cooking that influenced the Jewish style that developed locally.” She supplies this recipe as an example of the Burmese style of Jewish cooking that developed in Burma.

4 scallions, very finely chopped
½ – 2 fresh green chilies, seeded and very finely chopped
¼ cup chopped coriander leaves
3 chicken-breast fillets weighing about 12 oz (350 g)
3 T flour
4 eggs
Juice of 1 ½ inch (4 cm) piece of fresh ginger, crushed in a garlic press, or the grated pieces
Salt
Light vegetable oil for deep-frying, about 1 inch (2 ½ cm) deep
Chop the scallions, chilies (“half a chili is enough for me,” Claudia Roden notes), and coriander in the food processor. Hen add the chicken, flour, eggs, ginger, and salt, and process until the chicken is finely chopped and all the ingredients are well blended. Chill, covered, for 1-2 hours.

Deep-fry by the heaping tablespoon (dip the spoon in oil so that the mixture does not stick) in medium-hot oil turning over once, until browned all over. Drain on paper towels. The recipe makes about 14 2 ½ inch (6 cm) fritters and up to 36 tiny ones. Serve hot or cold.

(From The Book of Jewish Food: An Odyssey From Samarkand to New York, Claudia Roden: 1996.)

Azariah Samuel
One of the first Baghdadi Jews to settle in Burma moved to the remote city of Akyab (later called Sittwe), a port city on the Bay of Bengal. Cut off from Jewish communities, Azariah nevertheless came prepared to live a religious Jewish life. He traveled with his own shochet or Jewish ritual slaughterer, to ensure that he and his family could have a supply of kosher meat, and seemingly never compromised his Orthodox Jewish lifestyle.

Azariah’s family eventually numbered five children. He and his wife built a Jewish cemetery, which still exists in Sittwe; one of their sons tragically died in childhood and is buried there. As a Jewish community grew up in the Burmese capital, Rangoon, the Samuel family would sometimes travel there for Jewish festivals, or else host other Burmese Jews in Akyab. By the 1880s Azariah Samuel was a prominent businessman in the town. His son Samuel Haim Samuel took over many of his father’s properties, which included a wine store and cinema. Samuel Haim was also a shochet, having learned the trade from the shochet his father first brought with him to Burma.

The entire Samuel family left Burma in 1931, moving to the Indian city of Calcutta, and eventually moving on to Australia and London.

Working in the Royal Court
Other Jews traveled to the royal city of Yadanabon, also known as Mandalay or “The City of Gems” to work in the Burmese royal court there. Jewish merchants Aaron Jacob Elias Aaron and his son David Hai Aaron were royal accountants working for King Mindon.

https://www.aish.com/ho/p/Descendants-of-Jews-Saved-by-Heroic-Pole-Find-Each-Other.html?s=ac
Descendants of Jews Saved by Heroic Pole Find Each Other
Feb 6, 2021  |  by Dr. Yvette Alt Millerprint article
Wladimir Riszko hid 16 Jews for two years during the Holocaust.
For years, Sara Bank Wolf searched for information about her family. “I grew up completely surrounded by Holocaust survivors,” she explained in a recent Aish.com interview, speaking from her home in Israel.

The families of Sara’s mother and father were decimated during the Holocaust. Sara’s father, Dov Feingold, along with his parents Chaim and Sara, had spent two harrowing years when he was a little boy hiding underground in his native town of Przemysl in Poland, evading the Nazis.

Although Sara heard some of this tragic family history growing up in America, there was much she didn’t know. As a teenager, she formally interviewed her grandparents about their wartime experiences, but much of what her grandparents went through remained unsaid. Sara’s grandfather Chaim did mention that he, her grandmother and her father were saved by a Ukrainian man living in Przemysl who hid them along with 13 other Jews for two years, but Sara never knew the name of this brave rescuer.

Chaim Feingold, Salya (Sara) Feingold (nee Sperling) and their son Dov Feingold

Sara’s grandmother died before she was born; she’s named after her. Her early demise was related to the two long years she spent hiding under the house of the mysterious benefactor: during that time, she developed strep throat which went untreated and probably developed into rheumatic fever, permanently damaging her heart. After her grandfather died, it seemed she’d never be able to find out the name of the man who’d hidden her family. Sara’s father Dov was only a young child during the Holocaust and couldn’t remember many details of his family’s hiding place, nor the other Jews they hid with.

Remembering the Past in London

 
Meanwhile, in London, Julie Hart Russell another daughter of Holocaust survivors, also had questions about her family’s wartime experiences – including her uncle Meyer Dornbusch.

“Growing up a second-generation Holocaust survivor, none of this was discussed in our family,” Julie explained in an Aish.com interview. “It was just buried.” Her mother had survived the notorious Krakow Ghetto and many other relatives perished or had their own harrowing stories of survival. “I knew that my grandfather was one of ten and I knew that some died in the war,” she explained. Much of her family history went unspoken.

Julie has fond memories of her Uncle Meyer, who lived in Paris. Meyer Dornbusch – also known as Marcel – was a “strong, charismatic man,” Julie recalls. “He was larger than life; he had a very good sense of humor.” When she was younger, Julie spent a year studying in Paris and recalls visiting him with fondness – though now she wishes she’d asked him how he survived the war. “Now I would sit him down and ask questions.”

https://www.aish.com/jw/s/Rabbi-Abraham-Twerskis-Copious-Blessings.html?s=mm
Rabbi Abraham Twerski’s Copious Blessings
Feb 1, 2021  |  by Sara Yoheved Riglerprint article
Rabbi Abraham Twerski’s Copious Blessings
The trailblazing rabbi died at the age of 90, a week after publishing his 90th book.

Several months after becoming director of the department of psychiatry at Pittsburgh’s St. Francis hospital, founded and run by the Sisters of St. Francis, Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski was summoned to meet the bishop. Bishop Wright wanted Rabbi Twerski (whom he would always call Rabbi despite his medical credentials) to counsel the nuns who were having trouble adjusting to the liberalization of the convent by Vatican II.

After a long conversation discussing the project, Rabbi Twerski could no longer contain himself. He said to the bishop, “You know, the historical relationship between the Church and the Jews has not always been pleasant. Isn’t it a bit ironic that when the Church is in trouble, you have recourse to a rabbi?”

To that the bishop rejoined with a smile, “My dear rabbi, even in the worst of times, the popes’ personal physicians were Jewish.”

“Well, then,” Rabbi Twerski said with his signature humor, “if you should make it to the papacy, you already have your personal Jewish doctor. The only problem is that you chose a psychiatrist, and that might cause some people to raise their eyebrows.”

The bishop laughed heartily and gave Rabbi Twerski a bear hug. When the young rabbi was ready to depart, the bishop bowed his head and asked, “Bless me, rabbi.”1


 


The story is epigrammatic of his life. His professional accomplishments were monumental. After twenty years at St. Francis Hospital, Rabbi Twerski founded the Gateway Rehabilitation Center for alcoholics and drug addicts, which Forbes magazine designated as one of America’s “top twelve rehabilitation programs.” He oversaw Gateway’s expansion to a network of facilities throughout Pennsylvania and Ohio that treat over 1500 clients daily. He founded the Sha’ar Hatikvah rehabilitation center for prisoners in Israel. He authored ninety books on psychology and Jewish spirituality. He lectured internationally and was featured in hundreds of magazine and newspaper articles. Yet he did it all as a blessing.

Becoming a Psychiatrist
The scion of an esteemed Chasidic dynasty, the young Rabbi Twerski longed to counsel people. For a few years he served as an assistant to his father, the Hornsteipler Rebbe of Milwaukee, but the duties of a congregational rabbi, performing weddings, funerals, unveilings, and Bar Mitzvahs, did not appeal to him. His decision to become a doctor was clinched one day when he visited a congregation member in the hospital. The patient told him, “Your father was here yesterday. It was so remarkable, because ever since my operation, I was not free of pain. Nothing the doctors prescribed seemed to help. But yesterday, when your father walked in, I felt the pain lift off, as if by magic.”



The young Rabbi Twerski realized that he could not help people by wielding the spiritual powers in which Chasidic rebbes like his father were adept. He would have to find another way, by becoming a psychiatrist.

Still, he was reluctant to break the chain of rabbis that went back many generations in his family. He consulted Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky, known as the Steipler, the foremost Torah authority in the Jewish world. Much to his surprise, the Steipler approved Rabbi Twerski’s going to medical school. At the same time, he suggested safeguards that would prevent him from deviating from Torah principles: to study Torah every day, to honor the sanctity of Shabbos by not studying secular subjects or even reading a newspaper on Shabbos, and to pray fervently for Divine guidance. Rabbi Twerski held to these practices throughout his ninety years of life.

While always loyal to Jewish tradition, Rabbi Twerski had the courage to explode taboos. His book The Shame Borne in Silence on spousal abuse in the Jewish community met with bitter opposition, but eventually a chastened community owned up to the problem and set up organizations to deal with it. His book on gambling addiction, Compulsive Gambling: More than Dreidel likewise brought gambling addiction in the Jewish community out of the closet.

Guard Your Eyes
At the age of 79, Rabbi Twerski was retired when two young men approached him. They had an innovative idea of an internet site to deal with Jewish men trapped by pornography. They were providing a free, anonymous site for those ranging from occasional viewers to addicts, with three levels of cutting-edge programs, and a world-wide support group.

By this time in his life Rabbi Twerski had received numerous awards as well as three honorary degrees. He could have looked down on these young whipper-snappers as quixotic idealists compared to his lengthy record of solid achievement. He could have chosen to rest on his laurels instead of plunging into a pioneering effort. He could have written a few lines of endorsement and sent them away. Instead, Rabbi Twerski joined forces with them to promote Guardyoureyes.com, which has helped more than 40,000 Jews struggling against pornography addiction. In addition to his public support of GYE in videos and live lectures, Rabbi Twerski accompanied GYE founders Yaakov Nadel and Yechezkel Stelzer on fundraising trips. He traipsed through the snow with them in Toronto, knocking on doors to ask for donations.



In November, 2018, at the age of 88, Rabbi Twerski ignited a firestorm by writing in Hamodia newspaper an article he called, “My Well Has Run Dry.” In it he lamented that he no longer had the creativity to write and to offer new pearls of inspiration. His pain at no longer being able to help—and to bless—was palpable. The letters of protest from his legions of admirers came flooding in. They refused to accept his resignation. And, as always, he bowed to the will of those eager to receive from him.

Just last week, his 90th book, Tallis & Tefillin, Bagels & Lox: Two Components to Living a Spiritual Life was published by Menucha Publishers. The day before he took ill with Covid-19, just a week before he died, he was still in email correspondence with his publisher. And he had already submitted a couple of chapters for his 91st book.

My Personal Encounter
Although I have read several of Rabbi Twerski’s books and heard him lecture in person a few times, I had no personal relationship with him. Nevertheless, a month ago I decided that I needed an Introduction from Rabbi Twerski for a book I am writing. “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” I got his phone number and called him. He answered the phone graciously. (How I wish I were as gracious when strangers call me!)

When I explained that I wanted a two-page Introduction from him, he replied that he couldn’t write an Introduction, which would be taken as an endorsement, without reading the book. He gave me his email address, and at 11 AM I sent him the seventy pages I had written so far. Exactly three hours later, a beautiful Introduction appeared in my inbox. He began, “I was thrilled to learn that Sara Yoheved Rigler, who has spent years teaching women about healthy marriage, is now writing a book …”

I read his words with consternation. He had never met me. I doubt he had ever read any of my books or articles. Yet, in his generosity of spirit he was thrilled that I was writing this book. I felt like I was hearing the rustle of angel’s wings.

Self-Esteem: Polish the Diamond
Rabbi Dr. Twerski used to say, “I wrote more than sixty books, but really I wrote one book sixty different ways.” His basic theme was the importance of self-esteem. He considered lack of self-esteem to be the root of all psychological problems, as well as addiction, marital strife, etc.

Years ago, Rabbi Twerski started a rehabilitation program in Israel for ex-convicts who had been imprisoned for drug-related crimes. At the first meeting, he said that recovery depends on developing self-esteem. Avi, one of the ex-cons, objected that he could never develop self-esteem. He was 34 years old and had spent half his life in prison. What could he feel self-respect about?

A young Rabbi Twerski with actor Danny Thomas

Rabbi Twerski replied: “Have you ever seen a display of diamonds in a jewelry store window? Those diamonds are scintillatingly beautiful and worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Do you know what they looked like when they were brought out of the diamond mine? They looked like ugly, dirty pieces of glass… I may not be a maven [expert] on diamonds, Avi, but I am a mavin on people. You have a beautiful soul within you, but it has been covered with layers of ugly behavior. We will help you get rid of those layers and reveal the beauty of your soul.”

Avi stayed in the program, eventually found a job, and remained free of drugs. One day Annette, the administrator of the program, called Avi. An elderly woman had died and her family wanted to donate her furniture to the rehabilitation program. Annette asked Avi to help by picking up the furniture and bringing it to their second-floor location. As Avi was schlepping the old sofa up the stairs, an envelope fell out of the cushions. In it was 5,000 shekels. Avi could have pocketed the money, but instead he handed it over to Annette. Annette informed the family, who donated the sum to the rehab program.

When Rabbi Twerski next saw Avi, he said to him, “What you did was truly exceptional, and shows the beauty of the ‘diamond’ within you.”

Avi had a bronze plaque made and affixed it to the door of the rehab center. It reads: Diamond Processing Center.2

Rabbi’s Twerski’s unending blessings will continue.

From The Rabbi and the Nuns by Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski (Mekor Press, 2013), pp. 47-49
Ibid., pp. 188-190

https://www.aish.com/jw/s/Rabbi-Abraham-Twerskis-Copious-Blessings.html?s=mm
Rabbi Abraham Twerski’s Copious Blessings
Feb 1, 2021  |  by Sara Yoheved Riglerprint article
Rabbi Abraham Twerski’s Copious Blessings
The trailblazing rabbi died at the age of 90, a week after publishing his 90th book.

Several months after becoming director of the department of psychiatry at Pittsburgh’s St. Francis hospital, founded and run by the Sisters of St. Francis, Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski was summoned to meet the bishop. Bishop Wright wanted Rabbi Twerski (whom he would always call Rabbi despite his medical credentials) to counsel the nuns who were having trouble adjusting to the liberalization of the convent by Vatican II.

After a long conversation discussing the project, Rabbi Twerski could no longer contain himself. He said to the bishop, “You know, the historical relationship between the Church and the Jews has not always been pleasant. Isn’t it a bit ironic that when the Church is in trouble, you have recourse to a rabbi?”

To that the bishop rejoined with a smile, “My dear rabbi, even in the worst of times, the popes’ personal physicians were Jewish.”

“Well, then,” Rabbi Twerski said with his signature humor, “if you should make it to the papacy, you already have your personal Jewish doctor. The only problem is that you chose a psychiatrist, and that might cause some people to raise their eyebrows.”

The bishop laughed heartily and gave Rabbi Twerski a bear hug. When the young rabbi was ready to depart, the bishop bowed his head and asked, “Bless me, rabbi.”1

The story is epigrammatic of his life. His professional accomplishments were monumental. After twenty years at St. Francis Hospital, Rabbi Twerski founded the Gateway Rehabilitation Center for alcoholics and drug addicts, which Forbes magazine designated as one of America’s “top twelve rehabilitation programs.” He oversaw Gateway’s expansion to a network of facilities throughout Pennsylvania and Ohio that treat over 1500 clients daily. He founded the Sha’ar Hatikvah rehabilitation center for prisoners in Israel. He authored ninety books on psychology and Jewish spirituality. He lectured internationally and was featured in hundreds of magazine and newspaper articles. Yet he did it all as a blessing.

Becoming a Psychiatrist
The scion of an esteemed Chasidic dynasty, the young Rabbi Twerski longed to counsel people. For a few years he served as an assistant to his father, the Hornsteipler Rebbe of Milwaukee, but the duties of a congregational rabbi, performing weddings, funerals, unveilings, and Bar Mitzvahs, did not appeal to him. His decision to become a doctor was clinched one day when he visited a congregation member in the hospital. The patient told him, “Your father was here yesterday. It was so remarkable, because ever since my operation, I was not free of pain. Nothing the doctors prescribed seemed to help. But yesterday, when your father walked in, I felt the pain lift off, as if by magic.”

The young Rabbi Twerski realized that he could not help people by wielding the spiritual powers in which Chasidic rebbes like his father were adept. He would have to find another way, by becoming a psychiatrist.

Still, he was reluctant to break the chain of rabbis that went back many generations in his family. He consulted Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky, known as the Steipler, the foremost Torah authority in the Jewish world. Much to his surprise, the Steipler approved Rabbi Twerski’s going to medical school. At the same time, he suggested safeguards that would prevent him from deviating from Torah principles: to study Torah every day, to honor the sanctity of Shabbos by not studying secular subjects or even reading a newspaper on Shabbos, and to pray fervently for Divine guidance. Rabbi Twerski held to these practices throughout his ninety years of life.

While always loyal to Jewish tradition, Rabbi Twerski had the courage to explode taboos. His book The Shame Borne in Silence on spousal abuse in the Jewish community met with bitter opposition, but eventually a chastened community owned up to the problem and set up organizations to deal with it. His book on gambling addiction, Compulsive Gambling: More than Dreidel likewise brought gambling addiction in the Jewish community out of the closet.

Guard Your Eyes
At the age of 79, Rabbi Twerski was retired when two young men approached him. They had an innovative idea of an internet site to deal with Jewish men trapped by pornography. They were providing a free, anonymous site for those ranging from occasional viewers to addicts, with three levels of cutting-edge programs, and a world-wide support group.

By this time in his life Rabbi Twerski had received numerous awards as well as three honorary degrees. He could have looked down on these young whipper-snappers as quixotic idealists compared to his lengthy record of solid achievement. He could have chosen to rest on his laurels instead of plunging into a pioneering effort. He could have written a few lines of endorsement and sent them away. Instead, Rabbi Twerski joined forces with them to promote Guardyoureyes.com, which has helped more than 40,000 Jews struggling against pornography addiction. In addition to his public support of GYE in videos and live lectures, Rabbi Twerski accompanied GYE founders Yaakov Nadel and Yechezkel Stelzer on fundraising trips. He traipsed through the snow with them in Toronto, knocking on doors to ask for donations.

In November, 2018, at the age of 88, Rabbi Twerski ignited a firestorm by writing in Hamodia newspaper an article he called, “My Well Has Run Dry.” In it he lamented that he no longer had the creativity to write and to offer new pearls of inspiration. His pain at no longer being able to help—and to bless—was palpable. The letters of protest from his legions of admirers came flooding in. They refused to accept his resignation. And, as always, he bowed to the will of those eager to receive from him.

Just last week, his 90th book, Tallis & Tefillin, Bagels & Lox: Two Components to Living a Spiritual Life was published by Menucha Publishers. The day before he took ill with Covid-19, just a week before he died, he was still in email correspondence with his publisher. And he had already submitted a couple of chapters for his 91st book.

My Personal Encounter
Although I have read several of Rabbi Twerski’s books and heard him lecture in person a few times, I had no personal relationship with him. Nevertheless, a month ago I decided that I needed an Introduction from Rabbi Twerski for a book I am writing. “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” I got his phone number and called him. He answered the phone graciously. (How I wish I were as gracious when strangers call me!)

When I explained that I wanted a two-page Introduction from him, he replied that he couldn’t write an Introduction, which would be taken as an endorsement, without reading the book. He gave me his email address, and at 11 AM I sent him the seventy pages I had written so far. Exactly three hours later, a beautiful Introduction appeared in my inbox. He began, “I was thrilled to learn that Sara Yoheved Rigler, who has spent years teaching women about healthy marriage, is now writing a book …”

I read his words with consternation. He had never met me. I doubt he had ever read any of my books or articles. Yet, in his generosity of spirit he was thrilled that I was writing this book. I felt like I was hearing the rustle of angel’s wings.

Self-Esteem: Polish the Diamond
Rabbi Dr. Twerski used to say, “I wrote more than sixty books, but really I wrote one book sixty different ways.” His basic theme was the importance of self-esteem. He considered lack of self-esteem to be the root of all psychological problems, as well as addiction, marital strife, etc.

Years ago, Rabbi Twerski started a rehabilitation program in Israel for ex-convicts who had been imprisoned for drug-related crimes. At the first meeting, he said that recovery depends on developing self-esteem. Avi, one of the ex-cons, objected that he could never develop self-esteem. He was 34 years old and had spent half his life in prison. What could he feel self-respect about?

A young Rabbi Twerski with actor Danny Thomas

Rabbi Twerski replied: “Have you ever seen a display of diamonds in a jewelry store window? Those diamonds are scintillatingly beautiful and worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Do you know what they looked like when they were brought out of the diamond mine? They looked like ugly, dirty pieces of glass… I may not be a maven [expert] on diamonds, Avi, but I am a mavin on people. You have a beautiful soul within you, but it has been covered with layers of ugly behavior. We will help you get rid of those layers and reveal the beauty of your soul.”

Avi stayed in the program, eventually found a job, and remained free of drugs. One day Annette, the administrator of the program, called Avi. An elderly woman had died and her family wanted to donate her furniture to the rehabilitation program. Annette asked Avi to help by picking up the furniture and bringing it to their second-floor location. As Avi was schlepping the old sofa up the stairs, an envelope fell out of the cushions. In it was 5,000 shekels. Avi could have pocketed the money, but instead he handed it over to Annette. Annette informed the family, who donated the sum to the rehab program.

When Rabbi Twerski next saw Avi, he said to him, “What you did was truly exceptional, and shows the beauty of the ‘diamond’ within you.”

Avi had a bronze plaque made and affixed it to the door of the rehab center. It reads: Diamond Processing Center.2

Rabbi’s Twerski’s unending blessings will continue.

From The Rabbi and the Nuns by Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski (Mekor Press, 2013), pp. 47-49
Ibid., pp. 188-190
COMMENT ON THIS ARTI

https://www.aish.com/jw/s/Austrian-Jew-Leaves-Fortune-to-French-Town-that-Saved-His-Life.html?s=mm
Austrian Jew Leaves Fortune to French Town that Saved His Life
Jan 31, 2021  |  by Dr. Yvette Alt Millerprint article
Austrian Jew Leaves Fortune to French Town that Saved His Life
Eric Schwam was one of over 3,000 Jews saved by the residents in one small French town.

When Vienna-born Jew Eric Schwam recently passed away at the age of 90, he left an unusual bequest. He left the small fortune he’d managed to save up in a lifetime working in the pharmaceutical field to Le Chambon sur Lignon, a town of fewer than 2,500 people in southeastern France. Eighty years ago, the residents of Le Chambon sur Lignon saved the life of Mr. Schwam as well as thousands of other Jewish refugees during the darkest days of the Holocaust.

Mr. Schwam was just thirteen years old when he arrived in Le Chambon sur Lignon with his parents and grandmother in 1943. Little is publicly known about the family’s journey other than the fact that when they arrived in France they were imprisoned in France’s notorious Rivesaltes Camp, near France’s border with Spain. France’s Nazi collaborationist Vichy government banished approximately 8,000 Jews, Gypsies and other “undesirables” to Rivesaltes. Many were sent from there to Auschwitz and other extermination camps. The camp was closed in 1942 and most of the remaining Jewish prisoners were sent to their deaths; it’s not known how the Schwam family managed to escape.

They made their way to Le Chambon sur Lignon in 1943. Perhaps other Jewish refugees told them that the town was fast becoming known as a haven for desperate Jews. Local residents welcomed the Schwam family and sheltered them in a schoolhouse for two long years, until the end of the war. The grateful Schwam family joined thousands of other Jews who were hidden and sheltered by the town’s citizens – and people who lived in small villages nearby to Le Chambon sur Lignon, often at great personal risk.

Le Chambon sur Lignon had been actively resisting the pro-Nazi government for years. When Nazi Germany invaded France in 1940 and installed the collaborationist Vichy Regime governing much of the country, Le Chambon sur Lignon’s local Pastor, Andre Trocme, and his wife Magda urged the townspeople to hide Jews. Pastor Trocme called Jews “the people of the Bible,” and built on a strong tradition of respecting Jews that had long flourished in the area. Word spread that the town was a haven for persecuted Jews. Jewish refugees began making their way from across Europe to Le Chambon sur Lignon and its surrounding villages.

When France started deporting its Jews to death camps in 1942, Pastor Trocme stepped up his rhetoric, and encouraged his congregants to shelter Jews, hiding them from Nazi and Vichy authorities who were now seeking to arrest them and send them to concentration camps and death camps. Many local residents stepped up to the task.

https://www.aish.com/ci/s/The-Nazi-Sympathizer-in-Georgia.html?s=mm
The Nazi Sympathizer in Georgia
Jan 23, 2021  |  by Michelle Halle, LCSWprint article
The Nazi Sympathizer in Georgia
My encounter at a military museum left me shaken, confused and alarmed.

As the daughter of Holocaust survivors, my nervous system is on high alert. The growing rate of antisemitism in the world feels dangerously familiar. Am I ignoring the same warning signs that so many of Europe’s Jews did in the early 1930s?

Before the pandemic, when I traveled to Georgia for vacation, I had no idea that I would come face to face with my personal history in a small, privately-owned military museum.

Southern hospitality is not a myth, nor is its reputation exaggerated. As soon as I walked through the museum door on that hot and humid August morning and felt the relief of the air-conditioned room, a gentleman stepped forward to hand me a bottle of chilled water. I gratefully accepted it. At that moment, I could not have predicted the chills I would feel later when leaving the premises in haste and confusion.

This man introduced himself by name and let me know that the museum was his. He gave me an overview of the exhibits and walked alongside me for several minutes as I started the tour. I stopped at all the display cases, viewing the artifacts, and reading about various wars the US had fought. Before leaving, I wanted to say goodbye to the owner, just as a guest might do before leaving a crowded reception hosted by a friend. I approached the front desk to thank the proprietor for the tour he had given me earlier.

Laura*, the woman standing behind the glass showcase that served as the front desk, introduced herself as the proprietor’s wife. I thanked her for the tour and we exchanged friendly chitchat.


 
After a few moments, Laura stopped talking and turned to her right and left, as if to make sure no one was watching her. She gave me a conspiratorial look and said, “Let me show you something we have but don’t put on display.”

Reaching under the counter, she pulled out an old, worn leather wallet, opened it and spread out its contents. I found myself looking at Deutschmarks, coins and photographs. She spread out the faded black and white pictures so I could get a clear view of each one.

“My uncle found this wallet in the woods during the war,” she said with a thrill in her voice. She pointed to a picture of five young officers wearing Nazi uniforms and began kvelling!

She talked about their loyalty to the Führer. She didn’t hide her feelings – it was obvious that she felt fondly towards them and these pictures made her proud. This confused me. Her uncle was an American soldier fighting the Nazis in Europe. Why was she telling me how handsome these boys looked? The longer she talked, the clearer it became that the woman I was talking to was a Nazi sympathizer.

Her mouth kept moving, but I stopped listening. My mind was racing and the voice in my head was shouting at me.

Say something! Don’t just stand there politely! You have to confront her. You’re stunned but say something!

“Excuse me,” I heard myself stutter. “Excuse me if I look at things differently. My father was a Holocaust survivor. He spent five years in the concentration camps. His family, my family, was murdered by soldiers like the boys you’re pointing to in these pictures. So you can understand why I don’t see them the same way you do.”

In another time and place, Laura could have been my grandmother’s neighbor, the one who told the Nazis where my grandmother and her daughters were hiding
When Laura saw the look on my face, she swept all the pictures together, as if they were a deck of cards and the game was over. Without another word, I turned, left the building, and made my way back to the car, shaken and upset. I was shaken by Laura’s attitude and upset with myself that I hadn’t said more.

I sat in my car and played in my mind, over and over again like a looping video clip, the encounter I had in the museum - the friendly greeting, the Southern hospitality, the tour, the friendly talk with a Nazi sympathizer, then finally my response to her.

It was the 21st century and I had come face to face with a Nazi sympathizer. Why hadn’t I displayed more rage? As I thought about it more, it dawned on me that in another time and place, Laura could have been my grandmother’s neighbor, the one who told the Nazis where my grandmother and her daughters were hiding… the neighbor who stood by and watched as my grandmother and her children were shot at point blank range…the neighbor who was congratulated for a job well done.

When facing a traumatic event, we respond by using one of three defenses: Fight, flight, or freeze. Each of us have our own way of responding to a threatening situation and my typical response is to freeze. At first, when I heard Laura talking about the Nazi soldiers, I froze in shock. Then, the voice in my head commanded me to act. I could have said more, but the little I did say took every ounce of courage I had. I looked evil straight in the eye and confronted it. In that moment, I converted the freeze response to a fighting one.




https://www.aish.com/ho/p/My-Grandfather-Survived-the-Killing-Fields-of-Ukraine.html?s=mm
My Grandfather Survived the Killing Fields of Ukraine
Jan 23, 2021  |  by Zvi Wiesenfeldprint article
My Grandfather Survived the Killing Fields of Ukraine
Yankel Wiesenfeld miraculously emerged from the Ukrainian hell with his life and faith intact.

In August 1941, Hitler granted a huge swath of conquered Ukrainian land to his close ally, Romanian dictator and raging anti-Semite, Ion Antonescu. The purpose of this little-known region was to serve as a dumping and killing ground for Romania’s Jewish population.

The area encompassed 16,000 square miles of freezing Ukrainian countryside bordered by the River Bug to the north and the River Dniester to the south. To access this vast land from Romania required crossing the Dniester, from where the area drew its name; Transnistria, meaning, “across the Dniester”.

Hundreds of thousands of Romanian Jews were forced to board barges to cross the river to their deaths. Transnistria was dotted with dozens of ghettos, labor camps, and death camps bearing names like Golta, Sarsgorod, and Mogilev-Podolsk. These camps were unlike the efficient death factories in Germany and Poland; the Romanians had none of the Germans’ organizational acumen. Jewish prisoners were not issued numbers or uniforms, and neither gas chambers nor crematoriums were erected.

Jews gathered on the west bank of the Dniester River before their deportation to Transnistria on the east bank of the river, June 10, 1942 (Yad Vashem)

The Romanian approach to the final solution was to force death through cold, starvation, exposure, disease, and murder. Often, prisoners were not provided with any food or shelter whatsoever. Starvation was rampant and rape was a fact of life. With no way to replace rotted clothing, many prisoners were naked. Typhoid epidemics, freezing temperatures, forced marches, and firing squads ravaged the deported and local population.


 
My grandfather, Yankel Wiesenfeld, was deported to Transnistria in 1942, one month shy of his 19th birthday. He was born and raised in the Jewish Quarter of Czernowitz, a thriving town with a large Jewish community. Czernowitz was the principal city of Bukovina, a disputed territory wrested from the Romanians by the Soviet Union, only to be returned to Romanian control by the advancing Wehrmacht, the German army. The Gestapo promptly assumed control of Czernowitz, established a Jewish ghetto, and mandated that all Jews sew a yellow star to their clothing.

The Mayor of Czernowitz, Traian Popovici, was a rarity among Romanians: he was not a rabid Jew-hater. Popovici strove to shield the Jews of his town from deportation, but only succeeded in securing a small number of exemption permits for skilled tradesmen. Yankel, his parents, and his brothers, lacking the requisite wealth or connections, were not among the lucky few granted a “Popovici permit”. They were herded to the train station and crammed onto filthy railcars bound for Transnistria.

Yankel, in Italy, circa 1947

As Yankel watched his family and friends, one by one, succumb to Transnistria, he lost all hope of survival. Of the roughly 130,000 Jews from Czernowitz that were deported across the Dniester, only 10,000 made it out alive. Yankel himself did not understand why or how he was one of the lucky few. The fact that he emerged from the Ukrainian hell with not only his life but also his faith intact defies rational explanation.

On one occasion, Yankel and two companions managed to slip the guards to roam the countryside in search of food. They soon heard the terrifying sound of Romanian soldiers and their dogs hot on the trail. Amid a heavy snowfall, Yankel and his companions scaled a tree and hid among the branches. Their hunters, knowing that the starving fugitives were nearby, dropped potatoes in the snow, betting that the young men lacked the strength to withstand the temptation. They almost succeeded in luring Yankel to the ground – his companions had to forcibly hold him back.

Towards the end of the war in Ukraine, when liberation was imminent, the Romanian guards forced all the Jews in Yankel’s labor camp to dig a mass grave. The prisoners were lined up and shot at point-blank range, Yankel among them. When the Soviets arrived to liberate the region, Yankel’s comatose frame was hauled from the jumble of bodies by a local Jew living nearby under false papers.

The author with his grandfather

The Soviets gave Yankel two months to recuperate and then sent him to the front to fight. After the war, Yankel made his way to the displaced persons camps of Italy, where he remained for two years. Failing to obtain entry to Israel, he was granted permission to emigrate to the United States. Yankel was processed at Ellis Island in 1948 at the age of 25, penniless and alone. Nevertheless, he succeeded in building a life and raising a family in the Jewish traditions of his youth.

Annie and Yankel on their wedding day

Yankel borrowed a few hundred dollars, bought a pushcart, and went to work as a ragman on New York City’s Lower East Side. He worked tirelessly and was scrupulously honest, and eventually upgraded his pushcart to a station wagon, and then his station wagon to a shop. Ultimately, he bought the building where the shop was located. Yankel’s honesty was such that the IRS once audited his business and ended up writing him a check for $20,000.

Yankel began to do business with a Dutch Jew named Gustav van Dam, a veteran of the War who had been captured and tortured by the Japanese. Gustav introduced Yankel to his daughter, Annie, who herself had spent the war in a Japanese-run internment camp in Indonesia. Yankel and Annie soon married and moved into the top floor of a two-family home in Boro Park. Annie’s parents moved in downstairs.

Tragically, Annie contracted a brain tumor soon after the birth of her third child. After a decade-long battle with the disease, Annie passed away. Yankel never remarried.

Yankel passed away in 2007 when I was 18. I remember him as exceedingly private and withdrawn. Clearly haunted by his experiences in the Holocaust, he generally kept his memories to himself. In early 2016, while discussing the Holocaust with my sister, it occurred to me that we are the last generation to know survivors personally. In a sense, the Holocaust dies with us. I resolved to commit my grandfather’s story to paper for posterity.

My grandfather rarely spoke about his wartime experiences, so it fell to me to track down old friends and relatives, documents and records, and books and videos in a multi-year effort to reconstruct my grandfather’s story. I hope The Man Across the River honors his memory and the memories of all those who perished in the Ukrainian killing fields.

The Man Across the River is available for order on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

https://www.aish.com/ci/s/The-Dark-Spell-of-Social-Media-A-Review-of-The-Social-Dilemma.html?s=mm
The Dark Spell of Social Media: A Review of The Social Dilemma
Jan 16, 2021  |  by Judy Gruenprint article
The Dark Spell of Social Media: A Review of The Social Dilemma
Former Big Tech insiders reveal what made them turn against the powerful platforms they helped create and promote.

“Nothing vast enters the life of mortals without a curse.” – Sophocles

This quote opens the docudrama, “The Social Dilemma,” a hard-nosed indictment of Big Tech and the social media platforms it has created. These platforms have transfixed us, angered us, entertained us, used us as human click bait for billions of dollars of advertising revenue, divided us socially and politically, and purposefully reduced us to social media addicts.

The titanic power of social media platforms has never been more in the news, but in addition to the big picture questions about their power to promote or to silence, we need to also understand what they try to do to us on an individual level. Now streaming on Netflix and directed by Jeff Orlowski, “The Social Dilemma” features a host of former tech insiders from Google, Facebook, Pinterest, Instagram, Twitter and more. Several were high ranking executives, and all have one thing in common: they eventually turned against the products and mindset that drives Big Tech.

Here are some of the more dramatic indictments these insiders leveled against the industry:

“Facebook discovered that they were able to detect real world behaviors and emotions without triggering the users’ awareness.”
“If you’re not paying for the product, you are the product. You are clickbait.”
“There are only two industries that call their customers users: illegal drugs and software.”

Tristan Harris is a former design ethicist at Google and co-founder of the Center for Humane Technology. He became frustrated with the lack of moral concern for what social media was doing to people. “I felt we had lost our way,” he said. “No one at Google was talking about the obvious addictive quality to email, but instead was fixated on simply the colors of the in box.” He wrote a manifesto, “a call to arms,” urging Google colleagues to face up to their responsibilities regarding the larger moral issues involved with social media participation.

“There are only two industries that call their customers users: illegal drugs and software.”
“Never before in history had only 50 designers, all of them white guys between the ages of 20-30, influenced the behavior of 50 million people,” he said. Initially, his manifesto created some buzz. It was downloaded hundreds of times at Google, and people talked about it for a day or two, telling Harris they agreed completely. Then, nothing. He left Google, citing “ethical concerns.”


 
“Your friend just tagged you in a photo.” Facebook sends these messages but doesn’t show you the photo. They want you back on their platform to see it, hoping you’ll stay. We see this kind of lure through the fictionalized scenes in the movie, interspersed with the interviews, of a typical family and social media’s impact on them. During these scenes, viewers see three very young guys – stand-ins for Artificial Intelligence programs – working tirelessly to manipulate the behavior of a college-age young man in the family, who has a crush on a girl who is seeing someone else. The AI guys ruthlessly track his movements online and tempt him to follow the posted activities of the girl he pines for. As frustrated as the AI team is when he ignores the notifications, they celebrate when he finally clicks on an ad they placed in his feed. They cheer that it cost them only 3.2 cents for that ad impression. Success!

Tide of Danger
Nearly every interviewee had once seen their role in Big Tech as a force for good, but once the proverbial genie was out of the bottle, it was impossible to stem the tide of danger: the growing and unchecked power of Big Tech to control what you see and hear; its addictive nature and the resulting alienation and anxiety in many people; and the relentless monetization of each person through tracking their actions and manipulating what they see to generate desired responses, such as clicking on ads. All of social media’s three main goals: engagement, growth (come back and invite friends) and advertising, are each powered by algorithms. (I strongly resent the bombardment of ads I see for anti-aging cosmetic treatments.)

The film is a bit heavy handed, allowing almost no comment about social media being a tool for good. People can make valuable connections online, can enjoy enriching, educational and entertaining content, create awareness for causes, advertise small businesses, and teach all kinds of skills. Even organ donors may be found online. But this film was made to underscore the extent to which average individuals are in the dark about how Big Tech really operates, and about how even the owners and rulers of the kingdom have no idea how to tame the beast.

Impact on Gen Z
The children born after 1996, often called Gen Z, are the first kids in history who went through middle school on social media. This generation is more anxious, fragile, depressed, and insecure than previous generations. As older teens, they are less likely to get a driver’s license or to begin to date.

A girl around 10 or 11 years old, the youngest in the fictionalized family, is shown as completely unable to be away from her phone even during a family dinner. Breaking a glass bowl to grab her phone and escaping with her phone to her room, she immediately checks how many people admire her digitally “beautified” image on TikTok. Her smile turns to tears when another girl makes a mean comment about her. Her expression becomes haunted.

Jonathan Haidt, PhD, social psychologist at the New York University’s Stern School of Business and author of “The Righteous Mind: Why Good people are Divided by Politics and Religion,” was also interviewed. He noted the shocking rise in depression and anxiety among American teenagers, which began around 2011-2013. Until 2009, he said, the number of girls admitted to hospitals every year for cutting or other self-harming activities had been stable, then shot up by 62 percent among girls ages 15-19 and by 189 percent in girls 10-14. “Snapchat dysmorphia” is the name used to describe this particular kind of warped self-image, in which young girls demand plastic surgery to look more like the pictures they see online in filtered selfies.

On the topic of children and social media, Harris noted, “We used to protect children. Certain products were not allowed on Saturday morning kids’ TV shows. But YouTube for Kids has no regulations, no protections.”

Many tech industry leaders were trained at the Stanford Persuasive Technology Lab, where they learn to become “behavior change geniuses,” according to one Lab instructor. Persuasive Tech has given rise to the field called “growth hacking” – infiltrating people’s psychology with the goal of manipulating behavior.

“We become the product. We are the commodity. We are the clickbait"
Tristan Harris states that Big Tech and social media are run on a “disinformation business model,” where everyone ends up with their own facts. Did you know that Google provides different definitions of things depending on what your interests are, and where you are Googling from? Because we end up seeing information that only reinforces our own views, we become hostile toward, or even develop hatred for, those who believe differently.

Placing Limits
Many of these former insiders fell prey to the systems they created. Tim Kendall, a former Facebook executive and former president of Pinterest, admitted that he would come home and type emails in his pantry while his kids waited for his love and attention. “I told myself 1,000 times I wouldn’t bring my phone to the bedroom, then 9 p.m. rolled around and I thought, so I’ll bring it to the bedroom.” Now, he and his wife do not allow their kids to be on social media until they’re in high school.

Here is how many of them deal with and limit social media in their lives:

Several have uninstalled all social media apps from their phones and disabled all notifications unrelated to anything critical to their lives. A European tech expert no longer uses Google but the search engine Quant, which doesn’t store data. One is careful to never choose a video recommended by YouTube. “You should always make the choice,” he said. One woman had to write her own software to cure herself of a Reddit addiction.

They also advise:

Fact check before you share. If it’s designed to stir your emotions, it probably is.
Get information from different sources. Follow people of different points of view.
Zealously protect young children from screen time.
No devices in the bedroom past a fixed time every night.
Work out a time budget with kids for screen time. Talk to them about it; they will often make reasonable suggestions.
Jaron Lanier, author of “Ten Arguments for Deleting Your Social Media Accounts Right Now” and considered the “founding father” of Virtual Reality, was among the most vehement about the destructive force of social media. He said, “It’s the gradual, imperceptible change in your own behavior and perception that is the product. There’s nothing else on the table. If even a few people delete all their social media accounts, it makes space for conversation. Get off the stupid stuff. The world’s beautiful.”

The film did not totally lose its sense of humor. At the end of the credits, the screen said, “Follow us on social media! Just kidding.”

https://www.aish.com/jw/me/Shattering-the-Apartheid-Canard.html?s=mm
Shattering the Apartheid Canard
Jan 18, 2021  |  by Rabbi Shraga Simmonsprint article
It’s time to call out the anti-Semitism and hypocrisy.

"Israeli human rights group says that Israel is not a democracy, it's an 'apartheid regime." This is the headline that recently blared on CNN

The fact that the charge comes from B'Tselem, a group the Israeli government has called out for “spreading lies, slander and incitement against the state of Israel,” was apparently lost amongst the onslaught of negative media coverage.

Closer to home, Yoseph Haddad writes of waking up “astonished to discover I was living under a racist apartheid regime… How dare they say that I, an Arab Israeli who served along with Jewish soldiers in the Israel Defense Forces and managed hundreds of Jewish employees, live under an apartheid regime?... I look around at our neighbors in the region and thank God I was born in the State of Israel, the only democracy in the Middle East… the only country that grants minorities equal rights and the ability to influence their future.”

Haddad concludes: “B'Tselem, don't push your agendas at our expense.”

Just the Facts
What is the root of this tumult?
 
In the 1980s, a coordinated campaign against apartheid South Africa combined U.N. condemnations, diplomatic isolation, an arms embargo, economic sanctions, divestment, and a cultural boycott – creating the perception of a regime that was illegitimate and immoral, to the point where the world demanded it be dismantled.

The pressure worked and apartheid collapsed.

Today, the enemies of Israel – after decades of terror attacks and wars of annihilation – have shifted tactics to portray Israel as the new “apartheid regime.” The flagship program of this delegitimization campaign is the annual Israel Apartheid Week, which turns college campuses into an anti-Israel bash-fest: eviction notices are placed on the doors of Jewish students, and the campus quad is filled with taunts about the “murderous, apartheid Israel.”

Drop by drop, Israel’s enemies are injecting their poison into mainstream consciousness – whether through Congressional tweets or the unhinged rants of Roger Waters. In 2019, more than 200 Israel Apartheid events were held in 30 countries, with storied institutions like Harvard University’s undergraduate council voting to provide funding.

Media outlets have obligingly jumped on the bandwagon. The Atlanta Journal-Constitution published the headline “Israelis Adopt What South Africa Dropped.” Jimmy Carter’s 2007 book, Palestine: Peace Not Apartheid, earned the praise of Osama bin Laden. And multiple U.S. newspapers, including the Washington Post, published Robert D. Novak’s column, “Israel: Worse than Apartheid?” (His answer: Yes.)

Cartoon equates Nelson Mandela’s South African experience with Israel today.

Arab Rights
So let’s get down to the facts: Is Israel the next incarnation of apartheid?

In South Africa, blacks were segregated as second-class citizens. Interracial marriage was illegal. Blacks could not vote, could not attend white universities, or eat in white restaurants. Blacks had separate hospitals, beaches, buses, restrooms, drinking fountains and even park benches.

In Israel today, Jewish and Arab babies are born in the same delivery room, attended by the same doctors and nurses. Jews and Arabs share meals in restaurants and travel on the same buses and trains. They shop in the same malls, receive the same world-class health care, and participate equally in the political process.

Ironically, Arabs living in Israel enjoy more freedoms than Arabs elsewhere in the Middle East, where autocratic regimes regularly suppress freedom of the press, freedom of speech, freedom of association, and freedom of religion. Which was the first Middle East country to grant Arab women the right to vote? Not Egypt, Jordan, Qatar or any of the 23 Arab states. It was Israel.

Israel has the freest Arabic press in the Middle East. As for religious freedom, Israel permits Muslims to build minarets, wear burqas and pray in the streets – better treatment of Muslims than in “progressive” Europe – as evidenced by these headlines:

"Swiss Voters Back Ban on Minarets" (BBC News)
"Dutch to Ban Full-Face Veils" (New York Times)
"France Burqa Ban Comes into Force" (Time magazine)
"Praying in Paris Streets Outlawed" (The Telegraph – UK)
In Israel today, Arabs are represented in all strata of society – IDF, police force, Knesset, diplomatic corps, business, entertainment, sports, etc. etc. An Arab has served as Deputy Speaker of the Knesset, as Supreme Court justice, and as acting President of Israel. (In apartheid South Africa – unthinkable.)

Jewish schoolchildren in Israel study Arabic. At Hebrew University in Jerusalem, 30 percent of students are Arab. Hadassah Hospital – arguably the leading hospital in the Middle East, where one-third of the staff is Arab – was nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize for its equal treatment of Israelis and Palestinians (including wounded terrorists).

If Israel is such an oppressive, racist state, why did a survey by the Arab Center for Applied Social Research find that 90 percent of Israeli Arabs would rather live in the Jewish state than anywhere else – a position so fiercely held that 73 percent of Israeli Arabs say they would violently oppose any diplomatic agreement to include them in a future Palestinian state.

So when people level the charge of “apartheid” against Israel, what possible explanation is there other than anti-Semitism?

Systematic discrimination in apartheid South Africa.

The Real Apartheid
If the UN, human rights activists, and the media are looking for discrimination today, it ought to focus instead on apartheid practices in Arab states:

Lebanon bans Palestinians from owning property and working in most professions.
Jordan has revoked the citizenship of thousands of Palestinians.
Kuwait has evicted a quarter-million Palestinians.
Where is the protest against gender apartheid in Saudi Arabia, where women have been arrested for driving a car, have no independent right to leave the country, and make up just 5 percent of the workforce – the lowest proportion in the world?

In the realm of religious freedom, too, Israel is a beacon of light. Since 1948, Israel is the only Middle East country where the Christian population has increased – rising by more than 400 percent. The headquarters of the Bahai faith is in Haifa, for the simple reason that Israel is the only country in the Middle East where a Bahai Temple is allowed.

In 1967 after recapturing the historically-Jewish Temple Mount, Israel shocked the world with an unprecedented show of religious tolerance by handing Muslim religious leaders autonomy over the site. Incredibly, to further protect Muslim rights, the Israeli government passed a law forbidding Jews from praying at their holiest site.

Meanwhile, Saudi Arabia openly practices religious apartheid, with special roads and even entire cities for “Muslims only.” In Saudi Arabia, the public practice of any religion other than Islam is illegal, and non-Muslim religious activities carry the risk of arrest, imprisonment, lashing and deportation. A notice on the Saudi Airlines website (subsequently removed) prohibited the possession of any non-Islamic religious symbols – Bibles, crucifixes and the Star of David – mentioning them in the same breath as narcotics, firearms and pornography.

Arab treatment of Jews is severely biased: Most Arab countries refuse entry to Jews and Israelis, or even to anyone whose passport shows evidence of having visited Israel.

The Palestinian Authority regards selling land to Jews as punishable by death and has pronounced such a verdict dozens of times. Even in Egypt and Jordan – countries with longstanding peace agreements with Israel – it is illegal to sell or rent land to Israelis.

Where are the protests against this Arab-sponsored apartheid?

There are none. A Google search for “Israeli apartheid” returns 588,000 results; a search for “Saudi apartheid” returns 962 results – a fraction of one percent.

This hypocrisy was highlighted one evening in 2011 at Britain’s Edinburgh University, when a speech by an Israeli official was boycotted in protest of “Israeli apartheid.” Protesters disrupted the speech with chants and taunts, forcing the speaker to abandon the stage. The incredible irony is that the speaker was Ismail Khaldi, an Israeli Arab-Muslim who holds a senior position in the Israeli Foreign Ministry – living proof of no “apartheid” in Israel, yet the target of protests against “Israeli apartheid!”

Ironically, anti-Israel activists never consider the immorality of Palestinians insisting their future state be Judenrein, the Nazi-era word meaning "cleansed of Jews." As reiterated by Palestinian leader Mahmoud Abbas: "I do not agree... to have living among us even a single Israeli on Palestinian land."

Pure Anti-Semitism
Israel’s human rights record may not be perfect, but it is doing its best in a difficult situation. If restrictions such as checkpoints and the security barrier are placed on Palestinians, there is genuine justification – unlike in South Africa, where black communities were not producing terrorists nor threatening to annihilate the white population. Apartheid-era South Africa was a repugnant regime intent on preserving white supremacy; Israel is a democracy intent on preserving itself from destruction. In other words, Hamas is not Mandela.

Kenneth Meshoe, a black South African Member of Parliament, set the record straight: “If anyone says to you there is apartheid in Israel, tell them the man who was oppressed by apartheid in South Africa says it’s a big lie. Coming from South Africa, it is laughable to draw a parallel. If the government of Israel is accused of being heavy-handed for wanting to wipe out terrorism, we are here from South Africa to say: You are not alone.”

Let there be no mistake: Those foisting the lie about Israeli Apartheid seek to portray the Jewish state as an illegitimate enterprise that, for the sake of humanity, must be terminated. That canard – even coming from a Jewish “human rights group” – is pure anti-Semitism.

Further Study:

Sarah Zoabi: Proud Muslim Zionist [video]
The False Charge of Apartheid

https://www.aish.com/jw/s/How-to-Talk-to-a-Neo-Nazi.html?s=mm
 How to Talk to a Neo-Nazi
Jan 11, 2021  |  by Rabbi Hillel Goldbergprint article
How to Talk to a Neo-Nazi
The anti-Semitic skinhead couldn't believe the kind storeowner was a Jew.

Daniel Kravitz owns Denver's Home Again Furniture and, like he says, you never know who will walk in the door. Saying only that he toned down the language a bit, Kravitz tells the story of his encounter with a unique customer:

“I receive a phone call answering a classified advertisement I placed to sell a black bedroom set for $250. During the conversation the young man on the other end of the line says he has only $700 – and do I have enough furniture in my store to furnish his whole apartment?

"I ask how big his apartment is. Turns out in addition to the bedroom set, he needs a dinette, a sofa, tables and a lamp. I say, if you’re not picky, I can furnish the apartment for $700.

"He didn’t show up until the next day.

"A man walks in, shocking in appearance. He’s a skinhead. Tall. 6’2”. Trim. In his early 20s. Sleeveless T-shirt. Dark pants. Doc/Martin boots [made in England, very popular with the subculture, punk rockers, skinheads, etc.].


 
“On his arm are tattoos. I cannot help but notice what they say: Kill N***ers and Jews. I realize right away who this individual is.”

Are you Dan? We spoke on the phone yesterday. Do you still have the black bedroom set?

“I say: ‘You’re the young man who says you have $700 to furnish your apartment.' I show him the bedroom set. We walk around the store. I can give you this sofa, and these tables . . . in 20 to 30 minutes we figure out what he wants. I throw in some dishes – glad to get rid of them.

“We get back to my counter and desk. I write up a receipt, including the inventory and the regular prices. The total comes to about $1,000, which I discount down to $700. I hand him the receipt for him to sign on the bottom. He looks over the receipt and says, ‘Boy, you really gave me a big discount.’

“I say: ‘That’s the deal.’”

You won’t get in trouble for discounting this much?

“No, it's my own business.”

I really appreciate it.

“I say: 'I’m a man of my word,' and he pays in cash. I help him load the furniture onto a pickup truck. We work up a sweat. When we we're done, I ask him whether he would like to have a Coke, or something else cold to drink. I have no other customers and have time to sit with him. So I give him a can of soda, take one myself.

“Now, this whole time, I kept observing him to see whether he was carrying a gun or a knife. You see that kind of tattoo – he’s not a choir boy.

“When we loaded his furniture his shirt lifted up, and I saw there was no weapon in his pocket. I felt comfortable he didn’t have a weapon.

“So I say: ‘I couldn’t help but notice your tattoos. Do you really believe that?’”

Hell yes I do.

“Have you ever hurt anybody?”

Yes.

“How many blacks and Jews do you know?”

I don’t need to know any. I know they’re bad. Blacks are trying to take over the white women. Jews are controlling the banks and the government.

“I say: ‘I hate to tell you – I disagree with your propaganda. I grew up in Park Hill around a lot of black people. Unless you know somebody you can’t make judgments about a whole culture.’

“I saw that he was not connected to what I said. So I say: ‘I bet you don’t talk to your mother and father – if my son had the tattoos on his arms that you have, I wouldn’t talk to my son. I don’t think you talk to your parents.’”

No, I don’t.

“I realized I hit a nerve.

“The next thing I say: ‘It wasn’t that many years ago that your mother held you in her arms, and she loves you. I’m a parent. I know that your parents are hurt and miss you, and don’t approve of your ways.’

“Then I say: ‘I want to share with you . . . I’m Jewish.’”

No you’re not.

“Why would I lie to you about that?"

You don’t look like a Jew.

“What does a Jew look like?”

Not like you.

“I point to my front door and show him my mezuzah, and tell him that Jews put it on their doorposts.

“And I have a siddur, so I open it up and say: ‘See, this is Hebrew.’

“I show him my store hours and say: ‘Notice, I’m closed on the Sabbath. I live as a Jew.'

“'What you think of Jews is not right. I pray with people who have numbers on their arms. You're part of a group of people who believe that the Holocaust didn’t happen. Not only did I lose family members, I pray with people who have numbers on their arms.'”

No, it's a Holohaux.

“'Absolutely not true. You know what? I think you’re a nice guy. I know by some of the things you’ve said to me how appreciative you are that I gave you a good deal. I know that your mother and father raised you with good values. Why you are a part of the neo-Nazis, I have no understanding.'

“'One of two things is going to happen to you. You’ll end up dead, or you’ll end up in prison and some huge bubba is going to take you for his wife. You need to think about what you’re doing. These are the only two possible paths if you keep on doing what you're doing.'

“'You told me you’ve hurt people. Do you want to hurt me?'”

No. You’ve been nice to me.

“'I’ve only been nice to you because you gave me an opportunity to be nice to you. You hurt people you don’t even know because of the color of their skin or their religion. You need to think about that. The people you hang around with don’t care if you’re in jail or dead. But your mother and father do care.'

“Then another customer walks in.

“'Listen, I can’t talk more now, but if you want to talk to me more I’ll be glad to talk to you. I want you to think about what I’ve said to you because everything I’ve said is true.'

“I didn’t know what he thought. But he came in with the prejudice that Jews are greedy and money-grabbing. He had to realize, here’s a Jew who just gave him a really good deal, helped him load his truck and sweated with him. I think what hit him was when I said: ‘It’s not long ago that your parents held you in their arms.’ He left.”

Months later, maybe a year later, he came back to Kravitz’s store.

“He says to me: ‘Do you remember me?’

“I say: ‘Of course.’"

At this point in the retelling, Kravitz tears up.

“He was dressed completely different. His hair was grown out – no more shaved head – normal hair. He didn’t look like a skinhead. He was wearing a long-sleeve shirt, jeans and sneakers. He looked like a whole different person.

“I ask: ‘Did you reconnect with your parents?’

“‘Yes I have.’

“He says: ‘I need to give you an apology. I realize now how offensive my tattoos were to you and how hurtful they are. I can’t afford it now – but I’m going to have those tattoos removed.'

“He gave me a hug and I’ve never seen him again.”

Reprinted from The Unexpected Road

https://www.aish.com/ci/s/Martin-Luther-Kings-Jewish-Hope.html?s=mm
Martin Luther King’s Jewish Hope
Jan 9, 2021  |  by Rabbi Ken Brodkinprint article
Martin Luther King’s Jewish Hope
Inspired by Jewish prophets like Moses, Isaiah and Amos, MLK evoked their message of hope and justice.
The first time I went to Georgia was more than 20 years ago while I was dating my future wife. She suggested we visit Stone Mountain Park near her childhood home outside Atlanta. The name of the site was vaguely familiar.
As we climbed up the bare rock, I suddenly remembered where I recognized it: Stone Mountain was one of the heights Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. referenced in his “I Have A Dream” speech. On that August day in 1963, King declared before 250,000 people, “Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain in Georgia!”

Today, the site lies at the center of a national debate about the validity of Confederate monuments. The landmark features an enormous sculpture of three Confederate leaders: Robert E Lee, Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson and Jefferson Davis. The Ku Klux Klan held annual gatherings there for 50 years, complete with cross burnings, which continued in King’s time.

King summoned that site and many other heights in his iconic speech. From the snow-capped Rockies, to the Alleghenies, to Lookout Mountain in Tennessee, King believed that one day freedom would ring “from every hill and every molehill in America.”

In our times of racial tension and division, we reflect on King’s vision of a future when all Americans – regardless of their skin color – will “sit down together at the table of brotherhood.”
This week, we will mark MLK Day. In our times of racial division and national tension, we reflect on King’s vision of a future when all Americans – regardless of their skin color – will “sit down together at the table of brotherhood.”

Today, that vision is more urgent than ever. As Americans reel from last week's unprecedented mob attack on the US Capitol, King's unifying message of hope and optimism beckons us. He taught us that it is possible "to hew a stone of hope from a mountain of despair."

Martin Luther King Jr. was raised in Atlanta, Ga. He was the son of a Baptist minister, the Reverend Martin Luther King Sr. As a boy, he not only heard his father preach – he witnessed him protest. Once, while buying a pair of shoes in Atlanta, the boy’s father refused to sit in the back of the store, asserting that he would never accept the system of segregation.

Although Martin questioned religion in his youth, he went on to become a minister. From his pulpit, he saw and experienced the travails and injustices afflicting American blacks. King believed that all people deserve justice. A great supporter of Israel, King once observed that opposition to Zionism is tantamount to anti-Semitism.

When King stood at the Lincoln Memorial during his “I Have A Dream” speech, he spoke about “the sweltering summer of injustice.” Like many who had come “fresh from narrow jail cells,” King personally experienced tribulation. Yet, he believed that “the bank of justice was not bankrupt.” What was the source of his optimism?

On one level, King believed in the promise of America. He believed that the Declaration of Independence made the promise of unalienable rights to blacks as much as to whites. He believed that his dream was the American dream. But King also reached further back in history for his vision.

As a child, he memorized verses of the Bible. He was inspired by Jewish prophets like Isaiah, who continually advanced the hope for Tzedek and Mishpat (righteousness and justice). King was stirred by the vision of Amos, who foresaw a time when justice will “roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.”

This hope – a hope rooted in Jewish scripture – was a vision King advanced until his final day. King was murdered on April 4, 1968. The night before, he spoke at the Mason Temple in Memphis, Tenn. In his final speech, he decried the racial injustice in the city.

While King knew that difficult days lay ahead, he invoked the image of Moses, telling his listeners that he, like Moses, had been to the mountaintop and seen the promised land. While he couldn’t predict that he himself would cross the Jordan, King knew that “we, as a people, will get to the promised land.”

King was a devout Baptist, yet, as Jews, we can learn from King’s insight into our prophets. King evoked their message of justice as he inspired his generation.

King taught us to hope and that words – prophetic words – have the power to shape our world. Without any position of authority, King's vision became the basis for the landmark civil rights laws enacted in the 1960s.

Climbing that day at Stone Mountain, my wife recalled a time when Jews did not feel comfortable at the park. When her family frequented the site as she was growing up, her brother and father wore baseball caps to remain inconspicuous as Jews. That day, looking at the Atlanta skyline from atop the mountain, I thought back to how King struggled for his community – and for ours.

This MLK Day arrives in the shadow of an attack on the US Capitol. As we look toward brighter days for our republic, let us learn from the legacy of a leader who believed deeply in the promise and hope of America. After all, Martin Luther King Jr. climbed to the top of the mountain. From its height, he showed us the promised land.

https://www.aish.com/ci/s/The-Smile-Behind-the-Mask.html?s=mm
The Smile Behind the Mask
Jan 9, 2021  |  by Rabbi Efrem Goldbergprint article
The Smile Behind the Mask
What milk does for the body a smile does for the heart and soul.

While necessary, wearing a mask is miserable. It's difficult to breath comfortably with a mask on and it is even harder to deliver a speech. And yet, those aren’t the hardest parts for me. Countless times over the last few months I find myself spotting someone across the shul or in a store, smiling at them and wondering why they aren’t smiling back or acknowledging my bid for connection. Each time it takes a moment to remember that they aren’t ignoring me and it isn’t their fault. They never saw my smile because of the mask that covers half my face.

Being deprived of the ability to exchange smiles is a relatively small price to pay for protecting one another and preserving our collective health, but make no mistake, the lost smiles are also unfortunate casualties of this pandemic.

We need to smile and be smiled at. In complimenting and blessing Yehuda, Yaakov says, “His teeth are whiter than milk.” Of all virtues, why is Yaakov highlighting Yehuda’s teeth? The Talmud (Kesubos 111b) explains that Yaakov saw a quality in Yehuda he greatly admired and benefited from. Yehuda had a habit of smiling, of flashing the white of his teeth when seeing others. Indeed, the Talmud concludes when a person shows the white of his teeth to another by smiling widely, it is more beneficial than giving a cup of milk to drink. Why the comparison to milk?

Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe explains that milk nourishes and nurtures growth. What milk does for the body a smile does for the heart and soul. He writes that just as plants require sunshine to live, converting the rays of the sun into nutrients, people convert smiles into energy and strength, and without it they wilt and perish. Dogs and cats can’t smile. Smiling at one another is part of what differentiates us as humans.

While our panim, our face, reflects our pnim, our internal thoughts and feelings, it also has an impact on those around us. Rabbi Yisroel Salanter famously said a person’s face is not his or her personal property; it is part of the public space. If you project a sour and negative disposition and countenance, you have placed a dangerous pit in the public thoroughfare. If instead you flash a smile, you can bring happiness to those around you, literally.
 
Dr. Nicholas Christakis, a physician at Harvard Medical School, authored a study concluding that happiness is contagious. The same one person yawning sparks a chain reaction of yawning from others, when one person smiles or is happy it leads to others’ happiness and draws smiles from others as well. Perhaps the greatest and most direct example of this phenomenon is a baby. When you smile at a baby they light up, but if you frown or make a sad or angry face, he or she will start crying.

Shammai teaches: receive all people with a pleasant countenance (Ethics of the Fathers, 1:15).

Rabbi Ovadia Bartenura provides a powerful interpretation: “When you bring in guests to your home, do not give to them while 'your face is buried in the ground;' as anyone who gives and 'his face is buried in the ground' - even if he gave all of the gifts in the world - it is counted for him as if he did not give anything.” If you give someone, even generously, but you don’t smile, it is as if you gave nothing. The smile is more valuable than the resource you shared.

Don’t wait to be happy to smile; start smiling and you will be happy.
But don’t just smile because it will positively impact others. Smile because of the benefit it will bring you. A study from the University of California, Irvine recently showed that a genuine smile, the kind that brings up the corners of your mouth and produces creases around the eyes, can lower your heart rate and reduce the pain of a needle injection by up to 40 percent.

One of the researchers, professor of psychological science Sarah Pressman, said that they don’t yet fully understand why displaying a smile can help reduce pain and stress, but they have a theory they call the “facial feedback hypothesis”. “The thought is that the nerves in your face, that when those muscles are activating they actually send a message to your brain that’s telling you that you’re happy. … The basic premise is that somehow that expression is sending signals back to your mind, and it’s altering your emotion in some sense.”

Though there is much to be grateful and happy for, there is also much sadness and concern in these unprecedented times. Now more than ever, don’t wait to be happy to smile; start smiling and you will be happy and you will bring smiles and happiness to those around you.

https://www.aish.com/jw/id/Real-Life-Fauda-Spy-Passes-Away.html?s=mm
Real-Life “Fauda” Spy Passes Away
Jan 9, 2021  |  by Dr. Yvette Alt Millerprint article
Real-Life “Fauda” Spy Passes Away
Renowned Israeli spy Isaac Shoshan infiltrated Arab communities for years.

Fans of the blockbuster Israeli TV series Fauda have followed the adventures of Israeli spies who pretend to be Arab, infiltrating terror cells, gathering intelligence and stopping attacks. These fictional tales are incredibly nerve-wracking, yet they can’t compare to the real-life exploits of Israeli spies who successfully do manage to infiltrate Arab terror cells and society, at enormous risk to their lives.

Isaac Shoshan, one of the first and greatest Israeli spies to ever penetrate Arab cells and gather intelligence for Israel, has recently died at the age of 96.

Shoshan spent years disguised as “Abdul Karim,” a bloodthirsty would-be terrorist who wanted to kill Jews, and the story of his real-world exploits seems even more incredible than Fauda and other shows.

Isaac Shoshan was born into an impoverished Jewish family in Aleppo, Syria, in 1924. At the time, Aleppo was home to a thriving Jewish community 10,000 strong. Though Jews lived in the city for over 2,000 years, anti-Semitism was never far away. With the return of Jews to the Land of Israel, anti-Jewish hatred rose, both in Aleppo and in the wider Arab world. (When the State of Israel was declared in 1948, rioters in Aleppo – urged on by the government – burned sores of Jewish shops, synagogues, Jewish schools and private homes.)

Isaac Shoshan, left, at 13. Aleppo, Syria, 1937 

 
Shoshan’s family scraped by in poverty; Isaac’s father worked as a janitor in a school. Isaac attended Aleppo's Alliance Israelite school and joined Zionist youth groups. One day, a new teacher named Monsieur Pedro arrived in his school. M. Pedro had lived in Israel and described the new Jewish communities that were developing there to his students. “We understood that what we read about in the Bible really existed,” Isaac later recalled. “It wasn’t in heaven.” Isaac and his friends decided that they too would join the exodus of Jews from around the world travelling to the Land of Israel and working to build a Jewish state.

In 1942, Isaac and a friend packed their meagre possessions and made their way to a suburb of Damascus, where they joined over two dozen other Syrian Jews who were staying in a local synagogue, waiting for smugglers to take them over the border. It was a diverse group: men and women, young and old, all were yearning to leave the dangers Jews felt in Syria and find freedom and opportunity in the Jewish homeland.

Finally, one night a smuggler told them to disguise themselves in Islamic garb and to hide anything that might identify them as Jews. He would lead them over a path into Israel. At one point during the night, an old rabbi dropped one of the precious Hebrew books that he was trying to bring with him. Though the smuggler was irate, the rabbi insisted on retrieving his book, one of the few possessions he owned. Isaac crawled around the ground in the dark until he located the book and the group could proceed.

Finally, after hours of walking, the group of Syrian Jews arrived at a kibbutz. They were amazed to hear fellow Jews speaking Hebrew, and offered them tea, bread and jam. Years later, Isaac remembers being “shocked” to meet Jews working to build a Jewish state.

Isaac settled in a kibbutz, working on the collective farm. One day, some men arrived at the kibbutz looking for Arabic speakers. They were from the Palmach, the elite strike force of the Haganah, which was the underground army that Jews in the land of Israel formed in the years of British control of the land, and which later formed the foundation for the Israel Defense Force. Isaac volunteered to be part of the Palmach, and soon was one of a small group of Arabic-speaking Jews who formed a top secret elite unit, dedicated to collecting intelligence, sabotage and other actions in Arabic-speaking communities.


The group became known as the Arab Platoon. Made up of Jews who’d grown up in Arab-speaking environments, its members learned about Arab customs. Historian Matti Friedman notes: “The recruits were from the Islamic world, but at home they had known little of the majority religion beyond the dangers it posed to people like them. Now they learned laws, scripture, superstitions, and figures of speech.” (Quoted in Spies of No Country: Secret Lives at the Birth of Israel by Matti Friedman: 2019.)

If any of these Jews’ true identities were discovered, they'd face certain death. The Jews living in present-day Israel were ruled by Britain before 1948, and were barred from raising their own army. The Palmach was an underground organization. As Matti Friedman notes: “They (the fighters of the Palmach’s Arab Platoon) had no country – in early 1948, Israel was a wish, not a fact. If they disappeared, they’d be gone. No one might find them. No one might even look. The future was blank. And still they set out into those treacherous times, alone.”

If their true identities were discovered, they'd face certain death.
Isaac was soon ready to work as a spy. His first missions were within the land of Israel. In one operation, he disguised himself as an Arab Muslim and attended services in the Al Aqsa Mosque on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, where he heard a sermon calling for local Arabs to rise up and wage a war against Jews.

In Spring 1948, Isaac was given his most dangerous order yet. Arabs were streaming out of Haifa, heading north into Lebanon ahead of an anticipated declaration of the establishment of the State of Israel. Isaac was to pretend to be one of them. Adopting the name Abdul Karim, he caught a bus from Haifa going to Lebanon, alongside another Arabic speaking Jewish spy, Havakuk Cohen.

The two men had only one gun for defense. Once they crossed into Lebanon, a group of Arab military officers stopped the bus. Seeing two able-bodied young men, the Arab officers demanded to know why they weren’t fighting Jews. “We leave our homes, our wives, our kids, to help you fight the Jew, and you are running away?” they asked. Isaac reacted quickly. He showed the soldiers his gun. “We’re not escaping,” he told them in Arabic, “If this gun had a mouth, it would tell you how many Jews it killed.” Isaac’s local dialect and accent in Arabic was perfect. The officers never suspected they were speaking with a Syrian-born Jew, not a locally raised Arab man, and let Isaac and Havakuk go.

Isaac Shoshan (foreground) and Havakuk Cohen in Lebanon, around 1949

In Lebanon, Isaac and Havakuk observed the Arab Legion’s military convoys. Another Jewish spy brought them a wireless radio transmitter hidden inside an ordinary radio, and Isaac set up a makeshift intelligence center inside the small apartment he’d rented in Beirut. He began describing the military technology that Jewish fighters would soon be facing – and he heard a wondrous piece of news. Israel had declared itself a Jewish state. It was the first time he’d heard of the existence of his new country. He also learned that five Arab states had immediately declared war on Israel, and the new nation was desperately fighting for its very life.

Soon, Isaac and Havakuk were told that a car bomb was being assembled in a garage in Beirut and were tasked to stop it. The men asked a garage worker if they could come in to use the restroom. In the few minutes they were able to be inside the garage, they set a bomb, which destroyed the building, as well as some surrounding structures. Five people died in the bombing, and although he’d been acting to save Jewish lives in the course of Israel’s War of Independence, Isaac was profoundly shaken by the loss of life. Later on, still in disguise, Isaac met a man who’d lost both of his sons in the explosion. He often spoke about the experience and began to advocate for Israel to use less deadly means of spying and sabotage.

“Although we were sent to gather intelligence,” Isaac Shoshan later recalled, “we also saw ourselves as soldiers, and we looked for opportunities to act.” He and Havakuk set up a small snack kiosk in Lebanon’s capital Beirut, which they used as a cover for their spying activities. Isaac also drove a taxi part-time.

In 1948, Isaac and Havakuk were sent a coded message from Israel: a ship had docked in Beirut's harbor and Israeli sources indicated it might be there in order to be fitted with a cannon and used to attack the port of the northern Israeli city of Haifa. Isaac and Havakuk had to find the boat’s location.

This wasn’t any ordinary ship. Called the Aviso Grille, it had formerly been Adolf Hitler’s personal property. He and other senior Nazis enjoyed sailing in it, and Hitler planned to use it to travel to London in the event that he managed to defeat the British military. After the war, a wealthy Lebanese Christian bought the ship and sailed it to Beirut. Isaac managed to locate its whereabouts, and one dark night, he and Havakuk welcomed another Syrian-born Israeli Jew, Eliyahu Rika, who was dropped off along the Lebanese coast and swam to shore carrying two mines. With Isaac’s help, Rika swam to the ship and placed the mines on its hull. The resulting explosion – days later – rendered the boat inoperable.

The Aviso Grille, 1935 (photo credit: Wikimedia Commons)

In 1950 Isaac Shoshan, along with Havakuk Cohen, was relieved by yet more undercover Israeli Arabic-speakers. Isaac returned to Israel and helped other Jews infiltrate terror cells disguised as Arabs. Isaac helped create the cover for Eli Cohen, one of Israel’s most famous spies, who infiltrated the upper echelons of Syrian society in the 1960s – and who was discovered, tortured and executed in Syria in 1965.

“Generations of warriors learned their trade at his feet,” explained Ehud Barak, former Israeli Prime Minister and a former elite spy. “Me too,” he added, upon learning of Isaac Shoshan’s death.

Isaac continued to go on missions well into old age. He found that the persona of a helpless old man was a useful one for a spy. He also worked with Arab spies who cooperated with Israel. “He turned out to be blessed with a talent for this job too,” explained Rafi Sutton, a fellow intelligence officer with whom Isaac Shoshan wrote Men of Secrets, Men of Mystery (1990). “Agents are a problematic lot, and you have to know when they are lying to you or telling the truth, and how not to allow them to extort you and take control of the relationship between you, without damaging their readiness to work with you,” Rafi Sutton explained. Isaac was able to cut through the lies and recruit high quality spies, and support their work.

Most of the world will never know how many missions Isaac Shoshan went on, nor how many lives his decades of heroism saved. After his death at the age of 96 was announced on December 28, 2020, former Prime Minister Ehud Barak recalled that Isaac had “risked his life again and again” for the Jewish state.

Isaac Shoshan leaves behind a legacy of helping build and defend our homeland against seemingly insurmountable odds.


https://www.aish.com/ci/s/Saving-America.html?s=mm
Saving America
Jan 9, 2021  |  by Rabbi Benjamin Blechprint article
Saving America
I tremble at the thought of the country perishing from within. We must find a way to return to the values and the ideals which were the original source of our greatness.

The events of the past week were the latest and most shocking demonstration of a country aflame, divided by hatred that makes a mockery of the descriptive name United States of America. After a summer of riots and protests that pitted neighbors against neighbors, friends and family against each other, it at last has come to this – an attack on the Capitol at the very moment that its elected representatives sought to carry out their constitutional duty to determine the democratically elected leader of the nation.

I tremble at the thought of this country, blessed by God as no other in recent history, being destroyed not by external enemies but – as so many empires in the past – perishing from within, a suicide of self-created madness and insanity.
We must find a way to move forward that will return us to an appreciation of the values and the ideals which were the original source of our greatness.
The miracle we need today is the one God chose as he made his first appearance to Moses and appointed him to become the leader of the Jewish people. To make himself known, God chose to appear in a bush which was burning and yet miraculously was not consumed. This was a message. Moses had fled Egypt while his people faced the flames of hatred and servitude. Perhaps, Moses feared, his people had perished. So God reassured him from the midst of the bush that a miracle of survival against all odds was possible. As long as the Hebrews continued to hold onto their belief and heard the message of the Almighty in their own lives, the fire would not be a fire of destruction.
The bush was called sneh in Hebrew. That word would give the name to the single, most important location as a source for ethics, morality and civilization. The very spot where God chose Moses and taught him the way to miraculously assure survival would later become better known as Mount Sinai – Sinai from the word sneh.
What made America different and assured its divine blessing was clearly understood by its founders.
Benjamin Franklin summarized the futility of trying to build a nation by man’s power alone, and the need for God’s assistance: “I have lived, Sir, a long time, and the longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this truth — that God governs in the affairs of men. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without His notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without His concurring aid? We have been assured in the Sacred Writings that ‘except the Lord build the house they labor in vain who build it.’ I firmly believe this, and also that without His concurring aid we shall succeed in this political building no better than the builders of Babel.”

John Adams, in 1756, put it beautifully: "Suppose a nation in some distant region should take the Bible for their only law book, and every member should regulate his conduct by the precepts there exhibited! Every member would be obliged in conscience, to temperance, frugality, and industry; to justice, kindness, and charity towards his fellow men; and to piety, love, and reverence toward Almighty God ... What a Utopia, what a Paradise would this region be."

Here are the words from George Washington’s farewell address: “Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports.... And let us with caution indulge the supposition that morality can be maintained without religion ... Reason and experience both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail to the exclusion of religious principle.”

These are the ideas enshrined in the Declaration of Independence: “We, therefore, the representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name, and by authority of the good people of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare that these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states; … And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor."

In all of the countless responses to the horrible events which today threaten our democracy, I do not find emphasized the words of our founders. We need to put in the forefront the idea that “all men are created equal” for it is the recognition of our shared uniqueness as creations in the image of God that requires us to come together in mutual respect and goodwill.

After last week’s tragedy, it is no longer politicians who can assure our survival. America needs a powerful affirmation of its spiritual uniqueness. It is spiritual leaders with the message of faithfulness to the ethical and moral messages of Sinai whose voices need most to be raised – and to be heard.

We need to lower the volume of hate and recrimination that blare forth from the headlines and amplify the still small voice that seeks to remind us of our obligation to see the Almighty in the midst of the flames of the burning bush. That is the vision which will ensure that we and the dream of America’s founding fathers will not be consumed.

https://www.aish.com/sp/so/Life-Refashioned.html?s=mm
Life, Refashioned
Jan 2, 2021  |  by Kat Bautistaprint article
Life, Refashioned
How Judaism got an ex-Catholic prospective convert to love clothes – and enjoy life.

When I was a child, I was all dolled up, my hair put up in ponytails or woven into braids. I wore the pretty little-girl dresses my mother bought.

When I reached my teens, the fussing stopped but my mother continued to buy me clothes. Why I hadn’t asserted my independence at an age when people generally started to I can’t quite explain; I chalk it up to the agreeable, passive temperament I had. The trajectory of my later relationship with clothing, however, wasn’t evident at this time. I had attended an all-girls Catholic school in the Philippines that required us to wear school uniforms. As a result, I was left without much room to choose what I was going to wear.

And then I entered college. By this time, my mother had stopped dressing me and I became, for all intents and purposes, a slob. Gone were the attractive blouses I had worn and outgrown as a teenager. I wore ugly T-shirts and polo shirts to university. I just didn’t care.

Eventually, I graduated and got a job as an English language tutor for Koreans. In the office I wore collared shirts, black slacks, and flats – nothing fancy, but I was presentable again.

I eventually quit that job because I wanted to become a freelance writer; but now that I was to work from home, I saw no need to dress well. I stored my work clothes away in a closet and whenever I went out, I wore my college clothes.

I felt that women only cared about looking pretty to get noticed by a man, and I wasn’t interested.
I wasn’t interested in looking good; I just didn’t care about it. I felt that dressing up merely fed into the larger agenda of marriage, that women only cared about looking pretty to get noticed by a man. I wasn’t interested in getting married, or even in having a relationship; I was fixated on succeeding as a fiction writer and thought relationships were mere distractions from my career.

Then came Judaism. I had wanted to include a Jewish character in a story I was writing and to help me build the character, I researched Judaism – and was drawn to its ethics and worldview. I came to believe that the Torah was true and after talking to the rabbi in Manila about conversion I became a Noahide, someone who remains a non-Jew but, in recognizing the reality of Torah, keeps the 7 commandments given to Noah that all non-Jews are obligated to observe. Even though I do ultimately want to join the Jewish people, I have thrived being a Noahide. I have a newfound direction and a means of developing a relationship with God, something I never really had before.

Throughout this period, I continued to wear the schlumpy clothes that were my trademark. But Judaism eventually brought clothing to my attention. With new rules to follow, I began to wonder about what I was going to wear. Though I had no problem adjusting to the modesty rules, I still had to change what I wore – after converting I would need tops with longer sleeves, for a start, but the turning point of it all was the moment I absorbed that I would have to wear skirts.

At first, I was repelled. I haven’t worn skirts since I left high school (under which I wore shorts), preferring the practicality of pants. But soon after, I adjusted. Skirts would be so comfortable, I thought. And airy! And I would enjoy swooshing them around when I skipped around barefoot in the house. Now, a question emerged: what would I pair them with?

I tucked this among the things I idly wondered about, and then "coincidentally" a skirt outfit on my Pinterest feed appeared, a 3/4-sleeved top paired with a pleated midi skirt and knee-high boots. I liked it, and followed where it led...and down the rabbit hole I went. I soon learned how I liked to wear skirts – with pumps and heeled sandals, and long- or 3/4-sleeved tops and cotton shirts.

For the first time, I voluntarily walked into a clothing store. I discovered my love of color, dresses, florals (!) and lace.
Thinking I had to start preparing for my conversion as early as possible, I moved on from gathering pictures on Pinterest to actively looking for clothes. I first looked online for modest clothing stores and found a whole industry, and then I looked for modest options in the clothing stores that were available in the Philippines. For the first time, I voluntarily walked into a clothing store. I discovered my love of color, dresses, florals (!) and lace. I bought my first-ever blouse, something my mother approved of, and before the pandemic, I started wearing dressier tops and sandals on our Sunday trips to the mall. I also bought my first dress, which startled my mother, and I’m planning to buy my first heeled sandals in the near future (which I’m sure will startle her again).

One Jewish concept I had been attracted to is the emphasis on this world, this life, rather than the next, because this life, as a creation of God, is good. The world is not something you detach yourself from. This world is something to be engaged in and celebrated. So go have all these kosher pleasures – material, relational, spiritual.

And as I waded more and more into fashion, I began to absorb the other implications of that teaching: namely, that God in Judaism is more generous and parental than I had believed; He wants us to have pleasure and live fulfilling lives – what all parents want for their children. I now want to look good for myself, and feel that life has opened up for me and that I am a participant in it.

As a child of God, you should live with dignity.
Judaism has also given me the prospect of a richer life. I learned I have a unique mission in life, and that among life’s necessities, it was clothing I had a particularly unhealthy attitude to. I also came to reconsider my ideas about marriage and relationships, and now believe that marriage helps make you become a full human being. I began to see my hyperfocus on achievement and success as myopic. I've realized it's one important ingredient rather than the only element of a fulfilling life. Now, I want to have it all – beautiful possessions, marriage to a good man and relationships with good people, success as a writer, meaning in life, and a relationship with God.

I used to scoff at fashion, dismissing it as a shallow pursuit. Now, for me, fashion is not a superficial interest; it’s about minding how you present yourself to others, and how you affect others by how you present yourself. You are responsible for the body God has loaned to you, and you, as a child of God, should live with dignity. Clothes also allow you to take pleasure in the world – look attractive and savor life! God, after all, had created this world out of love and generosity; we in turn should be loving and generous towards ourselves.

From a woman who didn’t know how to truly enjoy life, I have come, at last, to embrace it.

https://www.aish.com/sp/so/The-Shabbat-Meal-that-Rocked-My-World.html?s=mm
The Shabbat Meal that Rocked My World
Jan 2, 2021  |  by Jody Berkelprint article
The Shabbat Meal that Rocked My World
Sometimes small acts have huge outcomes. I know. My life's trajectory was changed by one.
I was lying in bed in December, 2010 when I felt my heart beating in a way that I had never felt before. As quickly as it started, it stopped. But then a few minutes later it happened again: my heart was beating as if I had just run a 100-meter dash or finished a high-energy aerobics class. But I wasn’t running or exercising; I was lying in my bed! Yet I felt my heart was literally beating out of my chest.

And then, just like before, after a few minutes my heart went back to beating regularly. This continued into the evening. Realizing that something was wrong, I drove to the closest hospital to check it out. They immediately hooked me up to an electrocardiogram (ECG), which checks how your heart is functioning by measuring its electrical activity. After being hooked up for 10 minutes, the technician came in and said, "Everything looks normal, go home."

Because the irregular beating wasn't consistent, the first ECG didn't catch it and they sent me home. The next morning, I could barely walk up the stairs. My husband immediately drove me to the hospital and this time the ECG did catch the irregular heartbeat. Turns out I was experiencing something called atrial fibrillation (AFib), and the first question the doctor asked me was, "This is very uncommon for someone your age. Are you currently taking drugs like cocaine?"

He can’t be serious, I thought to myself. "No, I'm not taking any drugs," I replied.

"Are you sure? Because it’s quite rare to see someone your age with these symptoms, other than someone who has a drug addiction."

After finally accepting that I was an anomaly, and the fact that there was inconsistency with the AFib, the doctor gave me a requisition for an appointment with a cardiologist and a recommendation to come back if I feel unwell again.

Not long after, a third trip to the Emergency was in order where they immediately connected me to the ECG which once again didn't catch the AFib. I was sent into the emergency waiting room where I waited for over 2.5 hours. Finally fed up, I approached the nurse and said, “Something is very wrong with my heart and I need to be hooked up to a machine right away!” A room somehow magically opened up and the nurse hooked me up to the machine. The moment she took her hands off the electrodes, the alarm for CODE BLUE began to sound throughout the emergency room! Doctors flew into my room to see the heartrate monitor read over 160.

I spent the next week in the hospital and ran through a gamut of tests, including being awake while a camera was lowered down my throat to see my heart. The most frightening day occurred when a nurse rushed me to have a CT scan because the doctors were worried I had a blood clot. Even though speaking to God at that time in my life wasn't something I was comfortable with, my first words out of my mouth were, “Please God, I have two children who need me! Pease, please let me be okay!”

Thank God no blood clot, and after a myriad of tests, doctors had no explanation as to why I was experiencing AFib. I was sent home on a Friday evening with medication and continued cardiac care. When my husband and I walked into our home we saw an unfamiliar sight. Foil containers covered the counter. I peeked into one and saw roast chicken. I slowly lifted the lid of another – green beans in soya sauce. A third – roasted potatoes. Beside them sat four beautiful challahs, grape juice, and brownies for dessert.

"Where did this come from?“ I asked my mom who was home watching the kids.

"One of the teachers from Presley’s school dropped it off for you,” she replied.
“Presley’s teacher?”

“No, another teacher from the school.”
It was as if the words of the Torah lifted off the pages and were brought to life, my life. Something so heavenly was brought down to earth and made deeply personal.
The tears immediately began to flow. A stranger did this for me? I thought to myself. I was completely dumbfounded. I had never experienced anything like this in my life. I couldn’t stop crying. Who does this? What type of people drop off a meal to someone they barely know? Turns out it was Rebbetzin Esther Gitlin, of Chabad of Markham in Toronto, who made this Shabbat dinner for our family.

At that time I had already been attending many Torah classes and learning a lot about Judaism, but I wasn't yet ready to actually start practicing and increase my observance. At that moment, seeing this breathtaking act of kindness, it was as if the words of the Torah lifted off the pages and were brought to life, my life. Something so heavenly was brought down to earth and made deeply personal. God wasn’t "out there"; He was right here with us, revealed in the world by the actions of caring individuals. Standing there in my kitchen, I knew this is who I wanted to be when I grow up.

Rebbetzin Gitlin's kindness enhanced my interest to grow Jewishly, to learn more, and most importantly start doing. I always had a desire to make the world a better place, only now I made the connection that this was a deeply Jewish act, the God-given mission of the Jewish people. "Olam chessed yibaneh – the world is built on loving kindness" became my personal mantra. I began taking every opportunity I could to get my family involved in volunteering in my community, to give back.

We wrapped gifts for children fighting illness; we baked challah for the elderly; we raised money for Israel, baked sandwiches for the homeless, made muffins and cards for fire-fighters and made meals for people in need. One of the most memorable experiences was going as a community of Chabad of Markham to visit a number of homeless shelters in Toronto. We delivered hats, gloves, scarves and hot chocolate. As I handed winter hats to a family who were living at the shelter, I realized that it’s not our job to understand why bad things happen to good people, it’s our job to help when bad things happen to good people.

Over the years, a dream was building inside me, a dream of bringing women together to create a sisterhood of kindness.  Just prior to Covid, I brought my dream of bringing women together to give back to fruition. Through NCSY, I created a program called Live2Give Moms where we partner with different organizations each month and volunteer our time, our money and our heart. This has been such a labour of love for me and has brought my personal passion to my professional life.

Over the years, many people have asked me the reason for our family’s embrace of Torah Judaism. I often share with them it was through our gratitude to God for all the blessings in our life that was the catalyst for this change in our lives. We fell in love with the beauty and depth of our heritage. But truth be told, the reason is far more simple than this. The reason is kindness.

You see, when Rebbetzin Esther Gitlin made that Shabbat meal for our family, she set in motion a trajectory for me that looking back I could have never anticipated. It's been over 10 years since that Shabbat meal, and all my volunteer work that I have merited to do stems from the one act of kindness. There is a concept in Judaism called mitzvah goreret mitvah, one mitzvah leads to another. Like a pebble dropped into a pond, the ripples go on and on. This mitzvah changed my life, and in turn, has given me the opportunity to touch the lives of so many others. My gratitude for this knows no end.

People think it takes a lot to change the world. It doesn’t. We don't need to redeem the whole world all at once. As I repeatedly learned from Rabbi Sacks zt”l, “We heal the fractures of the world, one day at a time, one person at a time, one act at a time. A single life, said the sages, is like a universe. Save a life and you save a world. Change a life and you begin to change the world.”

We are here to make a difference, to take our experiences and use them in service of others. Someone else’s physical needs are my spiritual obligation. Just as Rebbetzin Gitlin responded when she had heard that a mom of one of the students was hospitalized and took action, so too, I keep my eyes and ears open for opportunities to reach out to those in need and use my God-given abilities to make the world a better place.

Our actions affect those around us in immeasurable ways. I do not know why God sent me this trial with my heart, but I do know that there is meaning to be found in every experience in life. Perhaps the lesson is that the greatest distance is the distance between the head and the heart, and when we put what we learn into action, our ability to touch the lives of those around us takes form. As Rebbetzin Dena Weinberg says, "Torah is not education; it's transformation."

Sometimes embracing a challenge can launch us to greater heights far beyond what we thought was possible. Our actions make a difference, sometimes all the difference in the world.

Dedicated to the incredible Rebbetzins, Rabbis and teachers at Chabad of Markham, who have shaped my life in ways I would have never imagined. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Jews and Morocco: 10 Fascinating Historical Facts
Jan 2, 2021  |  by Adam Rossprint article
Jews and Morocco: 10 Fascinating Historical Facts
As Israel and Morocco establish full diplomatic ties, take a look at some of Morocco’s epic Jewish history.

1. Oldest archaeology
There have been Jews in Morocco for at least 2,000 years when some 30,000 Jews fled to North Africa following the destruction of the Second Temple. It is believed there had been Jews there even earlier too, perhaps as long ago as 2,500 years. The oldest known evidence of Jewish life in the country are two menorah shaped oil lamp from the 3rd century, found at the site of Volubilis, a once Roman city located at the southwest extremity of the Empire, today near to the city of Fez. Jewish gravestones, some in Hebrew and some in Greek, were also found, with one referring to the head of the synagogue.

One of two oil lamps found in Volubilis, now in the Rabat Museum of Archaeology
2. Golden Age of Tolerance and Jewish study
Following the first Arab conquest in 703, Morocco and especially Fez a spirit of tolerance pervaded attracting a diverse kind of population, including many Jews who contributed their commercial capabilities. A thriving and vibrant community developed in the old city, known as the Medina. This beckoned in a golden age for the Jewish community which lasted for almost 300 years, from the 9th to 11th centuries and saw the creation of yeshivahs, attracting and producing brilliant scholars, poets and grammarians. The tolerance of this period left a powerful imprint in Moroccan culture. Today, the Museum of Moroccan Judaism in suburban Casablanca is the only museum on Judaism in the Arab world.

The Ibn Dahan synagogue, Fez
3. Darker times
One of the periods of harsh persecution of Jews in Morocco was during the reign of the Almohads dynasty, (1121- 1269) a radical Muslim dynasty bent on enforcing a strict and pious observance of Islam's rituals and laws. Jews were faced with conversion to Islam or death, compelling many to convert, or at least pretend to (which was possible due to the many similarities between Jewish and Islamic practice). In 1557 Spanish Jewish historian Joseph HaKohen wrote about the fierce persecution that “no remnant of Israel was left from Tangier on the northern tip of the country, 100 kilometers south to the port of Mehdya.”


 
The later Almohads were not content with Jews stating they had accepted Islam upon themselves and forced them to wear a yellow cloth for a head-covering, making them the focus of even greater scorn and attack.

The Bet El Temple in Casablanca, Morocco

4. Home to Maimonides
Rabbi Moses Maimonides, one of the most prolific and influential Torah scholars in the Middle Ages, lived in Fez from 1159 to 1165. Originally from Cordova in Spain, he had fled with his family to escape the Almohad persecution of Jews. (Later this same persecution would see him leave Fez, eastward for Egypt) It was in Fez that Maimonides, as well as serving as working as a physician to the Sultan, wrote his monumental 14 volume explanation of Jewish Law, Mishna Torah. The stone home where he lived, still stands.

Maimonides home in Fez, where he lived and wrote the 14 volume Code of Jewish Law
5. Mellah, the Moroccan Jewish quarter.
The first mellah, a forced quarter for Jews, was created in 1438 in Fez and continued to recent times. The original pretext given was that the tomb of a Muslim saint had been located in the Medina. By royal decree, all non-Muslims were ordered to leave and resettle elsewhere. The word mellah means salt, because the new Jewish quarter was based on salt deposit. It was the first of dozens of such areas, which due to Jewish commerce became busy areas for markets and trade. A mellah was often surrounded by a wall with a fortified gateway and usually situated near the royal palace or the residence of the governor, in order to protect its inhabitants from recurring riots since its inhabitants played a vital role in the local economy. To this day, Mellah’s have bustling and lively markets, with many of their road names bearing the memory of once bustling Jewish populations.

The entrance to the Mellah of Fez

6. Jewish prime minister
Aaron (Harun) Ibn Baṭash, was just one of many Jews to reach the highest position of vizier, in Morocco. A courtier and confidant of Sultan Abdel al-Haqq, Ibn Batash had moved to Morocco on account of the Inquisition in his native Spain and settled in Fez. After a prolonged association with the court as a banker or tax collector, he was appointed vizier in 1464. As a result of his influence, Saul Ibn Batash, a close relative, was appointed chief of the police and director of the sultan’s palace.

Ibn Batash imposed heavy taxes on the population but was accused by the Muslim leaders of using the money to support the impoverished Jews of the town. In addition, he was perceived as violating the code for dhimmis (non-Muslim minorities) by serving in such a high office, riding on horseback and wearing a sword. In consequence Muslim leaders incited the mob to attack the Jewish quarter. The sultan and his Jewish vizier were both assassinated.

The Jewish cemetery of Marrakhesh,

7. Giants of Kabbalah
Morocco was home to some of the greatest kabbalists of the Jewish world including Rabbi Chaim ibn Attar, also known as the Or ha-Ḥayyim (The light of Life) after his kabalistic commentary on the Torah. Rabbi Abraham ben Mordecai Azulai (c. 1570–1643) was another such giant who wrote a commentary on the Zohar.

Among the pilgrimage sites for Jewish travelers in Morocco, the most popular is the tomb of Rabbi Yehuda Ibn Attar in Fez (1655–1733), who served as the chief rabbi of Fez. A saintly and pious man, he was known as a miracle worker and was revered by the local Jews and Muslims alike, who refused to accept a salary from the community.

It is told that Rabbi ibn Attar was put into prison and left there until the Jewish community paid a heavy ransom to free him, but the amount was too great. The rabbi remained in prison until the governor decided to throw him into the lions’ den. Rather than being mauled, the guards witnessed him sitting quietly on the ground and pursuing his studies with the lions respectfully crouching around him. As soon as he was informed, the governor liberated the rabbi and accorded him great respect.

The tomb of Rabbi Yehuda Ibn Attar, Fez
8. Protecting its Jews
As a French colony, Morocco was subject to antisemitic decrees from Nazi-allied Vichy France during the Second World War. In 1941, Sultan Mohammed V refused to deport Morocco’s 250,000 Jews to the killing factories of Europe. Despite this stand to shelter the Jewish community, some antisemitic laws were imposed on Morocco, with Jews working in colonial administration, physicians, bankers, pharmacists, journalists, teachers, hospital nurses and others forced to abandon employment positions. On November 7, 1942, American forces landed on the shores of Morocco as part of Operation Torch and quickly took control of the country.

9. Largest Jewish community in the Muslim world
In 1948, before the majority began moving to Israel, the Jewish community of Morocco numbered 265,000 making it the largest Jewish community in the Muslim world. Three reasons can explain this. Firstly, the continued presence of a Jewish community without expulsions, secondly the large influx of Spanish Jews from the inquisition there in 1492 and lastly, aside from the notable exception of the Almohad rule, Moroccan Jews were not forcibly converted with minorities or Dhimmis, receiving protection from the King in return for protection dues.

10. Establishment of the State of Israel
 

Today, there are almost one million Jews of Moroccan descent in Israel
The establishment of a Jewish State in 1948 was met with riots in the north east towns of Oujda and Jerada where 43 Jews were killed and approximately 150 injured at the hands of local Muslims. This, prompted Jews to flee from the country. In 1961, Israel launched Operation Yachin, named after one of the pillars of Solomon’s Temple to aid the aliya (immigration) efforts. By 1964, more than 97,000 Jews had left Morocco, mainly to Israel where today there are almost 1,000,000 Jews of Moroccan descent.

Today there are 2,500 Jews living in Morocco, mostly in Casablanca. The community has good relations with King Mohamed VI who encourages religious tolerance. Morocco has dozens of beautifully preserved and active synagogues.

https://www.aish.com/jw/id/The-Heroes-of-Outpost-107.html?s=mm
Valley of Tears: The True Story of Outpost 107
by Shlomo Horwitzprint article
Valley of Tears: The True Story of Outpost 107
During the Yom Kippur War, 19 Israeli soldiers fought for 100 hours against overpowering Syrian forces and survived.
Amos* and eighteen of his fellow IDF soldiers were spending Yom Kippur just meters away from the Syrian border when the 1973 war broke out. They fought for 100 hours straight against an overpowering enemy and unrelenting firepower, and survived.

They are the heroes of Outpost 107. This is their story.

Outpost 107, code-named ‘Portugal’ was the closest IDF outpost to Syria in 1973. It was next to Quneitra in the Golan Heights. Amos and his fellow soldiers were from Battalion 13 of the Golani brigade. Amos was a mortar man and he reported to Avraham Elimelech, the platoon commander.

The outpost consisted of a series of bunkers with observation points and gun positions. The platoon’s main job was to observe Syrian activities on the Syrian side of the Golan. There was a small tank company nearby to aid the men in repelling any ground attack from Syria.

The war started that day with a barrage of artillery on the IDF outpost. Most of the outpost’s positions were destroyed, including the large supply of drinking water. Four tanks led by Shmuel Yachin from Battalion 74 of the 188th Brigade opened fire and destroyed eight Syrian tanks that were attempting to cross the border to attack. Trucks laden with Syrian infantry raced towards the outpost. The Golani platoon destroyed them all using their heavy machine guns and mortars.

 
That night, the men spotted a convoy of Syrian military vehicles, carrying anti-aircraft and anti-tank guns. Their commander, Elimelech, radioed a warning to the IDF tank as Nissim Avidan manned the heavy machine gun and Amos fired an illumination round from his mortar to light up the theater. Nissim opened fire and the lead truck in the convoy exploded. The IDF tanks joined the fray and the Syrian convoy was destroyed. Later that night two of the IDF tanks drove to recover two Israeli fighters and one Syrian POW, bringing the three men back to the outpost. They had been fired upon, and one of the tank’s treads was aflame. The men of the outpost stood guard over the tanks all night, protecting them from Syrian commandos armed with Sagger anti-tank missiles.

Elimelech Avraham
The next morning, October 7th, the platoon successfully repelled another Syrian infantry attack. But the tanks were now very low on ammo. The outpost was cut off and surrounded; no fresh ammo or supplies could be delivered. Some of the IDF tanks recovered unused shells from stricken Israeli tanks.

More artillery barrages rained on the outpost. Syrian soldiers got as far as the outpost gates when the Golani men succeeded in wiping them out. The Golani platoon destroyed additional Syrian tank-hunters.

On October 8th, the outpost was attacked at dawn by six Syrian tanks. Five of the tanks were destroyed and the sixth tank sneaked up so close to the eastern side of the outpost that the IDF tanks could no longer safely fire on it.

Yossi Zadok
Yossi Zadok, a Golani corporal who had arrived on Yom Kippur right before the war started, had received some training in using a bazooka a couple of years prior but hadn’t been known as a good shot. There was no time to think or plan. Yossi had to act fast. He quickly jumped up with his bazooka and fired at the tank. It was a direct hit; the tank was destroyed.

At 11:00 am, 15 Syrian T-62 tanks rushed at the outpost. It was part of a brigade commanded by Rifat Assad, the brother of the Syrian dictator, Hafez al Assad. Shmuel Yachin and his tank platoon jumped into the fray, destroying 13 of them. Two managed to hide undercover, and tried to escape when darkness fell. One of them was destroyed by the IDF forces; the other managed to get away.
The men were running low on ammo but there was no way to resupply them under this onslaught. That evening, the outpost was stormed by a Syrian armored personnel carrier. As it entered the perimeter, it set off a mine, killing its occupants, except for one Syrian soldier who was taken prisoner.

Portugal: Outpost 107

Then came bad news: Shmuel’s tank platoon was needed to reinforce Israeli forces in a ferocious tank battle taking place elsewhere in the Golan. The remaining Golani soldiers were left unprotected by tanks. Their ammo and food rations were dangerously low and there was no help in sight.

The following day, through their binoculars Amos and his fellow soldiers watched one Syrian tank rise on the hill that overlooked their position.

Another Syrian tank soon lined up next to the first one. Then another one.

Three hours went by and there were 110 tanks – nearly a full armored division – on the hill threatening their position.

The Golani platoon didn’t stand a chance. The tanks roared and the ground literally shook. “Zeh avood – all is lost!” some of the men yelled in great despair. “Don’t give up!” Amos said. “Stay below ground! Who knows what the cruel Syrians will have in store for us if they take us alive.”

Elimelech radioed the Northern Command. “I need air support!”

“Negative,” came the reply. “No planes are available.”

“Then I need armor support!” The desperation in his voice was obvious to the entire network.

“Negative. All tanks are fighting southwest of your positions."

“Then give me artillery support!” he shouted.

“None is available.”

“I’m making sure that someone will remember us when the Syrians kill us all!”
One soldier took a shell casing and etched the 19 names of the soldiers into the bunker wall. “What are you doing?” Amos asked.

“I’m making sure that someone will remember us when the Syrians kill us all!” the soldier replied.

Amos, in the middle, at Outpost 107

The men noticed jeeps carrying Syrian officers following the massive tank convoy. They stopped and opened tables to study terrain maps and plan further attacks against Israel. Elimelech ordered Amos to fire his last two mortar rounds at the officers. They scattered and realized the Israeli outpost had not yet been destroyed.

The tanks moved forward to wipe the men out. That’s when Nissim, the heavy machine gunner, did something insane.

He fired his .50 caliber machine gun at the lead tank. The bullets bounced off the tank harmlessly. They could not pierce armor. No one knew what Nissim was thinking.

The lead Syrian tank swiveled its main gun at Nissim’s position and fired, scoring a direct hit on his gun emplacement. It exploded in a swirl of flame and smoke. Nobody could have survived a blast like that. The others could only imagine what was left of their friend.

Amos ran over to the position, shouting “Nissim! Nissim!”

To Amos’ great shock, Nissim responded, “I’m okay! I’m okay!” He appeared slightly dazed, but lived through the onslaught without a scratch.

Most of the Syrian tanks began moving westward to engage Israeli tank forces, but some of them turned south to storm the outpost. The Golani men were now facing destruction from the enemy’s massive firepower. They were down to almost no ammunition. All seemed lost.

Yossi still had his bazooka, with only a few rounds that could do any damage.

A bazooka is a powerful weapon. It fires single rockets that can disable a tank, but it has a serious limitation. The weapon is fired while held on the operator’s shoulder and it has a fiery backblast of several feet when the projectile leaves the barrel. It must therefore be fired in an open area, otherwise the backblast would engulf and incinerate the operator.

Yossi and Amos were below the surface of the ground in a maze of bunkers. There was no way to fire the bazooka without exposing Yossi as a target to the vast number of forces now threatening the outpost. How could they get off a proper shot, well-aimed, in defense of their position?

It was reckless and against orders. They did it anyway.
Yossi and Amos came up with an idea. Amos would put a helmet on top of a rifle, and gradually raise the helmet over the surface of the ground. If it drew fire from the tanks, he’d quickly lower it, knowing that this spot is too hot from which to fire. He’d then move to another spot and try it again. If Amos received no fire, he’d jump up with his binoculars, determine the range of the target tank, and quickly tell Yossi. Yossi would then jump up, completely exposing himself to the enemy, and take his best shot.

It was reckless.

Suicidal.

Against orders.

They did it anyway.

Amos held up the helmet. It immediately drew fire. He and Yossi moved 20 feet away and Amos tried it again. No one fired, so he quickly grabbed the binoculars and inched upwards to identify a target. Amos saw a tank and barked the range and position to Yossi, who jumped up and took a shot. Amos heard the whoosh right by him and felt the tremendous heat of the backblast passing overhead. Yossi jumped back down.

IMPACT. A direct hit! The shell penetrated the tank and some of the enemy were killed or wounded. One tank down.

“Amos!” Yossi cried. “Move! Let’s go further down and try it again!”

Amos moved. They did it again. And again.

With Amos’ courageous range finding, Yossi destroyed four tanks in one day. The other tanks rained murderous fire at their position, furious that the meager Israeli outpost was killing their vaunted Russian-made battle tanks.

The next day, the barrage continued. Over the din of incoming shells, Yossi yelled, “Amos, let’s take out more tanks!”

“We’re out of armor-piercing rounds! Nothing we have will take out a tank!”

“What other rounds do we have?”

“White phosphorus.”

Yossi made a face. He and Amos knew that white phosphorus (WP) was powerless against the Syrian tanks. It was normally used to illuminate a target area, create thick smoke, or burn fuel and ammunition, but it would not inflict any damage. Why bother with it?

“Amos, let’s try firing them anyway. Maybe it’ll scare them!”

“Okay,” Amos said. He rammed the WP shell into the tube of the weapon. Yossi was ready.

“Find me a target!”

Amos raised the helmet on a rifle. Nobody shot at it. He quickly inched up with his binoculars and yelled out the range and position to Yossi over the sound of the constant firing.

Yossi fearlessly jumped out and fired the bazooka. Another direct hit, but they both knew it was a joke. A huge white spray blanketed the tank with thick smoke. No penetration. No danger to the Syrian tank crew.

Amos and Yossi watched in shock as the enemy crewmen abandoned their unscathed tank.
But something amazing happened. Amos and Yossi watched in shock as the enemy crewmen abandoned their unscathed tank! Evidently they were terrified by the blast and smoke, and the knowledge that the Israelis had destroyed four tanks the day before. They poured out of the tank and fled on foot towards Syria. Another tank down.

The other tanks proceeded to leave the area, leaving the outpost alone. They were engaged by what was left of the IDF 188th and 7th Armored Divisions in some very difficult fighting.

Yossi was the only soldier injured in Outpost 107. He was seriously wounded in the chest by shrapnel shortly afterwards and was evacuated to a hospital. All other 18 men were unscathed, despite being under nonstop attack for 100 hours.

Yossi took months to recover from his wounds. For his heroism in this battle, Yossi was decorated with the Itur Hamofet, Israel’s third-highest award for bravery. He and Amos have remained as close as brothers for the last 45 years.

After the war, Amos felt that he could not deny the miracles he had seen. Nissim’s survival. Yossi’s one-man onslaught, with his help. Destroying the far more powerful enemies of Israel despite their minimal weaponry and scant ammunition.

This made him rethink his life and his priorities, and Amos eventually decided to deepen his Jewish commitment and go to a yeshiva.

Even today, Amos has tears in his eyes recalling when he saw God’s Hand. As one of the heroes of Outpost 107.
* This article is based on an interview with Amos who, due to his humility, only agreed to speak on condition his last name and current photo not be included.



https://www.aish.com/jw/me/Muslim-Indonesian-Woman-Hopes-for-Peace-with-Israel.html?s=mm
Muslim Indonesian Woman Hopes for Peace with Israel
Dec 26, 2020  |  by Hila Timor Ashurprint article
Muslim Indonesian Woman Hopes for Peace with Israel
Braving raging controversy, Azka Daulia thinks it's high time for Indonesia to establish diplomatic relations with Israel.
Azka Daulia is one of few Muslim Indonesians who openly support Israel. Her story began the day after Israel signed a peace deal with the United Arab Emirates and Bahrain, and as it turned out, Sept. 15, 2020, was to be a day she will never forget.  
"The ceremony was not broadcast on [Indonesian] television," Daulia said in an interview with Israel Hayom. "Whosever job it is to determine what gets broadcast did not show the public the wonderful Israeli news.

"The ceremony took place at 11 p.m. Indonesian time, and I was already asleep. But the next morning I went to the Israeli Foreign Ministry's Facebook page and watched the recording of the ceremony, heard Prime Minister Netanyahu talk about King David, and I said to myself, 'This is a nation that believes in God, and I think it's something positive to bring to people.' I was so excited, I cried.

"I told my father about the ceremony, and he said it was wonderful news. Many Muslim Indonesians love Israel, and I wanted people to see for themselves and enjoy the peace and the hope, how inspiring it is. I decided to share the recording of the ceremony on my Facebook and Instagram. I wrote to my Indonesian friends that I didn't film or edit the video, and I just wanted them to see the ceremony, that they should see the hope for peace."

Daulia added to her post an appeal addressed to Indonesian President Joko Widodo "in the hope that Indonesia will follow in the footsteps of these countries [UAE and Bahrain] and will establish diplomatic relations with Israel too.

"I was raised as a Muslim but have always been curious about Judaism," she said. "My grandfather is a devout Muslim. He is 101 years old and he has never spoken about Judaism. I have always felt uncomfortable asking him about it. But when I was a child, my father told me that if I wanted to know more about [the Prophet] Muhammad, then I should read the Torah. Also, my brother has a son who he named from the Torah, Eliezer."

Indonesia has the world's largest Muslim population. It gained its independence in 1945, previously having been under the Netherlands' rule. It was not until 1949 that the Dutch recognized Indonesia's sovereignty following an armed and diplomatic conflict between the two.

Daulia and her parents

Indonesia held its first elections in 1999 when a constitution was enacted. The country is part of The Non-Aligned Movement, members of which do not formally align with or against any major power bloc, but Indonesia is known for supporting the Palestinian quest for statehood. There has been an increase in the number of extremist Islamic groups in the country in recent years, but most of its inhabitants are of moderate views.

There were attempts to establish diplomatic relations between Indonesia and Israel in the mid-1950s, but it failed due to pressure from other Arab countries. The following decade saw reports of Israeli arms sales to Indonesia, as well as clandestine negotiations to establish trade relations. Formally, entry restrictions for Israelis were lifted in 2018, and vice versa, but Israel's travel warning to the region remains in place. 

There are only a few Jews in Indonesia, some of whom maintain a secret synagogue in the city of Mendo in the country's east.  

This makes Daulia's post even more courageous. As expected, it sparked raging controversy in Indonesia and worldwide and received hundreds of shares and comments, including some harsh replies from Indonesians. 

"Israel is Jews, my sister," someone commented. "It does not matter if the enemy is big or small; it is still an enemy. This is not what the Prophet Muhammad wanted. We need to build our own economy and army, and the laws of Islam will rule the Dome [of the Rock]."

Another person wrote, "Open your eyes, my sister, to how many Palestinian Muslims are being persecuted by Israel!" 

Daulia's Facebook status read that she "has stepped up to fight for the diplomatic relations between Indonesia and Israel." Next to the caption are the flags of Israel and Indonesia with a red heart connecting the two. 

"I have always dreamed of having a connection to Israel," she says. "It stems from the education I received at home and at school. After the Abraham Accords, I realized I needed to make my personal aspirations public. I realized that in the new reality, it is no longer a dream. And I have to fight for it."

"I show my support for Israel because I want to spark a dialogue [among Indonesians]. Let them discuss, argue, take acting. I used a picture of a glass box in one of my posts: everyone can see what's inside, but people do not look inside the transparent box. Inside it has information about Israel, and therefore I open the box, and magically the truth comes out, and everyone can see it and be inspired to receive hope for our country to enrich Indonesia with knowledge and technology. 

"People do not know the facts, and the important thing is how do we educate them to remain objective, question the validity of facts. It is important that they be in a constant search for truth."

Daulia's post continues to send shockwaves across Indonesia. 

"Miss Azka's hopes for the chosen people are good and very optimistic. Cooperation with Israel will certainly benefit Indonesia. The question is whether such hope is acceptable in our [Indonesian] community. Even more, we need to look into what kind of [wrongful] acts Israel committed when it was conquering the Promised Land", one person wrote. 

Q: What did you answer them?

"That my dream is for Indonesia to prosper even more. That unity, love, and affection among Indonesian people should increase. That we should have more good things. I wrote that this could be anyone's dream. I am sure that there are many good things Indonesia can do with Israel to achieve this dream.

Q: Isn't that perhaps a little bit naive?

"Obviously, it's not going to be easy. I have 4,000 Facebook friends, and very few dare to support me openly. I'm not saying that the Palestinian debate should be suppressed. On the contrary, it should be conducted, but in a dignified manner, based on facts. 

"Someone commented on my post saying that Israel established its settlements in direct violation of international law. I responded that I see Israel as a country that has always belonged to the Jews. It's a known fact that Jews have had a presence in Israel for all of history and that it is not a Palestinian country. I recommended that person some knowledgeable sources to learn more about the subject," Daulia explained.

"Another person asked me if I wasn't afraid to be considered a Zionist. I pointed out that there are so many things we can learn from Israel that can benefit the Indonesian people, that, in fact, I can't wait for people to say that I am a Zionist."

Q: Aren't you scared that others will try to silence you?

"No, I'm not. What I am scared of is foolishness, ignorance, and the coronavirus. I have the right to speak my mind. 

Daulia is the fifth of seven children. Her parents chose her name, Daulia, after the beautiful Indonesian Dahlia flower.  

Her parents, Muhammad Nordin and Aka Mastikawati – most Indonesians do not have last names – are owners of an Indonesian frozen fruit business and a small art and gift gallery in Jakarta. Her father volunteers as an educator on the board of directors of the El Zeitoun boarding school located on Java island that Daulia herself studied in. Since the beginning of the outbreak, he spends all his time at the school and rarely returns home. 

"The school has a vision. Not an Islamic, Christian, Jewish, or any other religious one, but a vision of education, culture, tolerance, and peace. I worked as a teacher in that school for two years before I started university."

The boarding school is attended by 2,500 students, girls and boys, from all provinces and islands in Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, and South Africa. 

"The school choir sings songs in Hebrew which the school principal taught them because they contain messages of peace. At the Muslim New Year celebration, one of the biggest events of the school year, we also sing Jewish songs like Hineh Ma Tov and Hava Nagila. 

Daulia's connection to Israel began two years ago when she applied to study for a master's degree in architecture at the Technion – Israel Institute of Technology, an institution Daulia considers "the best in the world." Daulia traveled to Singapore to send in her application as Indonesia bans all Israeli websites. 

"Unfortunately, my application was denied. I was told that the school could not accept me as there were no diplomatic ties between Israel and Indonesia," she said.

On the last day of her trip to Singapore, Daulia went to pray at the local Chabad house and stayed for Shabbat dinner. "The rabbi approached our table, acquired who I was, and introduced me to his wife. I told them I wanted to learn Hebrew, and they recommended an online course. I exchanged emails with an Israeli guy, and we corresponded for a year. During that time, I studied Hebrew online at the Rosen School of Hebrew. 

Daulia and her brother holding a sign in Hebrew

At the same time, Daulia began following the Facebook page of the Israeli Foreign Ministry and the page of pro-Israel advocate Hananya Naftali. Naftali served in the Armored Corps during 2014's Operation Protective Edge and began to speak out on Israel's behalf after his release from the military. 

"It is very exciting to see an Indonesian Muslim woman use social media to promote peace and friendship between our peoples," Naftali told Israel Hayom. "Peace brings with itself peace, and love leads to even more peace. Indonesia needs more pioneers like Daulia to promote peace with Israel, something that will benefit both Israelis and Indonesians."

Q: Why is the normalization of ties between Israel and Indonesia important for you? 

"It is important for my country. Israel does not really need Indonesia, but Indonesia needs Israel. You have a lot of intelligent people, modern technology, high-tech, sustainable energy. We have a lot in common, and we can learn a lot from you in order to promote our country."

This article originally appeared in Israel Hayom.

When Covid is Over: The Hidden Blessings of 2020
Dec 26, 2020  |  by Rabbi Benjamin Blechprint article
When Covid is Over: The Hidden Blessings of 2020
There are blessings waiting to blossom in the aftermath of our global confrontation with the angel of death.
https://www.aish.com/ci/s/When-Covid-is-Over-The-Hidden-Blessings-of-2020.html?s=mm
Regarding the unprecedented development of two new vaccines in less than a year with over 90% efficacy, with the promise of eradicating the coronavirus global pandemic in the very near future, Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar called the moment “nothing short of a medical miracle”.

Jews could not help but note the startling coincidence that both the Pfizer as well as the Moderna vaccine miracles received approval during the holiday of Hanukkah, the festival which annually affirms the power of light over darkness and hope over despair as a result of miraculous divine intervention.

Dreadfully, the plague has not as yet ended. Sickness and death are still with us in unbearable numbers. But with the discovery of the vaccine, the darkness of night promises to be followed by the light of dawn and the joy of sunrise.

Hopefully it is not too soon to ask: How will our lives change in the aftermath? Can we ever return to the “normal” that preceded the pandemic? And perhaps most important of all – are there any things that we learned from the days of horror that might bring with them seeds of wisdom and blessing for the future?

It is our response to tragedy that defines us.
We cannot undo what happened, nor do any attempts at theological justification suffice. We are no wiser than Job who was simply reminded by God of the limitations of human intellect. Tragedy remains tragic. But as Robert Kennedy so perceptively put it, “Tragedy is a tool for the living to gain wisdom, not a guide by which to live.” And perhaps, as Richard Bach beautifully wrote, “What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly.”


 
It is our response to tragedy that defines us. The Torah gives us the initial illustration of a common but foolish reaction. Noah was the first to witness global destruction. No sooner did he leave the ark and bear witness to the world’s devastation than he “planted a vineyard and drank of the wine, and was drunken” (Genesis 9:20 – 21). Escape – wine, drugs, licentiousness – invariably attempt to ease our pain since Noah’s time, with equally unsatisfactory results.

Some think the post pandemic era will suffer a similar fate. Yale professor Nicholas Christakis, in his new book “Apollo’s Arrow: The Profound and Enduring Impact of Coronavirus on the Way We Live” claims society will make up for lost time as soon as it’s safe to do so, with hedonism and profligacy “plunging humanity into an era of vice and indulgence.”

But that is not what contemporary polls and research are showing.

There are blessings waiting to blossom in the aftermath of our global confrontation with the angel of death.

In a remarkable piece in The New Republic, “Imagining a Better Life After the Coronavirus”, Jonathan Malesic posed the following question to his Twitter followers: “Are there any ways your life is better in this situation?” From around the country responders stressed they found a number of positives in their new reality – more time to spend with their families, less work pressure and more flexibility in their working hours. None of them want to go back to “the old way of normal.”

People also report a renewed appreciation for talking to their loved ones – 72% say the pandemic will have a positive impact on how we communicate in the future.

"I think there will be some upside” to this disruption that workers will want to preserve, says Debra Dinnocenzo, the president of VirtualWorks, a consulting firm that advises companies on transitioning to telework. “People, families, are going to be spending more time together,” she says. “I think people will be more adamant that they want more time to work at home and not go back to all the crazy commuting they were doing before."

For many, that will sit well with their bosses. Nearly three-quarters of corporate finance officials surveyed in late March by Gartner, a business research and consulting firm, said their companies plan to move many of on-site workers to permanent remote status as part of their post-COVID cost-cutting efforts.

By now, everyone has a list of things they once took for granted but now miss dearly, or things they’ve discovered and fallen in love with during this period of staying at home. These are the people, places and things for which we have a newfound or renewed appreciation. We’re sorry we didn’t appreciate them before the pandemic and we promise ourselves that we won’t make that mistake again when things return to normal-ish.

Roughly 90% of Americans say the COVID-19 pandemic “is a good time to reflect on what’s important to them,” according to a recent survey conducted by National Research Group
The pandemic has brought to light many failings of our society and values, among them the religious devotion to work: the very American notion that only through labor do our lives have meaning. The Kinder Institute for Urban Research concluded that “Our culture often forces us to choose between our work and the people we love.” The pandemic for many taught us which one is the better option.

“Without commuting as well as the wasted time in office nonsense, I find myself able to read, to study and to learn far more than I’ve ever done before” was the response of the great majority.

One New York Times reader wrote, “It is part of the human condition to not appreciate something until it was taken away. When our lives to return to normal – sooner I hope rather than later – I will never again take for granted the joy of hugging and kissing my children, my sisters my friends.”

These insights echo what Jewish traditions can powerfully teach us without the need for learning from tragedy. Shabbat, the day not simply of rest but rather of human purpose, emphasizes that we do not live to work but that we work in order to live lives of meaning and connection, and contact with the Divine.

Perhaps in some measure these values will become part of the lesson of the pandemic after we heal from its curses. Perhaps, too, we will at long last grasp that the greatest tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon but that we begin it so late.

https://www.aish.com/jw/s/79487927.html?s=mm
The Christmas Tree
Dec 19, 2009  |  by Jonathan Rosenblumprint article
The Christmas Tree
A Jewish family comes home to discover their house festooned with holiday lights.

Rabbi Berel Wein was once invited to a meeting with the editor of the Detroit Free Press. After introductions had been made, the editor told him the following story.

His mother, Mary, had immigrated to America from Ireland as an uneducated, 18-year-old peasant girl. She was hired as a domestic maid by an observant family. The head of the house was the president of the neighboring Orthodox shul.

Mary knew nothing about Judaism and had probably never met a Jew before arriving in America. The family went on vacation Mary's first December in America, leaving Mary alone in the house. They were scheduled to return on the night of December 24, and Mary realized that there would be no Christmas tree to greet them when they did. This bothered her greatly, and using the money the family had left her, she went out and purchased not only a Christmas tree but all kinds of festive decorations to hang on the front of the house.

When the family returned from vacation, they saw the Christmas tree through the living room window and the rest of the house festooned with holiday lights. They assumed that they had somehow pulled into the wrong driveway and drove around the block. But alas, it was their address.

The head of the family entered the house contemplating how to explain the Christmas tree and lights to the members of the shul, most of whom walked right past his house on their way to shul. Meanwhile, Mary was eagerly anticipating the family's excitement when they realized that they would not be without a Christmas tree.

"In my whole life no one has ever done such a beautiful thing for me as you did."
After entering the house, the head of the family called Mary into his study. He told her, "In my whole life no one has ever done such a beautiful thing for me as you did." Then he took out a $100 bill -- a very large sum in the middle of the Depression -- and gave it to her. Only after that did he explain that Jews do not have Christmas trees.


 
When he had finished telling the story, the editor told Rabbi Wein, "And that is why, there has never been an editorial critical of Israel in the Detroit Free Press since I became editor, and never will be as long as I am the editor."

The shul president's reaction to Mary's mistake -- sympathy instead of anger -- was not because he dreamed that one day her son would the editor of a major metropolitan paper, and thus in a position to aid Israel. (Israel was not yet born.) He acted as he did because it was the right thing to do.

That's what it means to be a Kiddush Hashem, to sanctify God's Name. It is a goal to which we can all strive.

https://www.aish.com/jw/s/Online-Anti-Semitism-is-Soaring.html?s=mm
Online Anti-Semitism is Soaring
Dec 20, 2020  |  by Dr. Yvette Alt Millerprint article
Online Anti-Semitism is Soaring
Foreign trolls and other extremists are targeting Jews on social media.

Terrorists and foreign trolls are driving anti-Semitic hate online in the United States and elsewhere, posting negatively about Jews and driving hatred of Jews and Israel.

A new study analyzed 250 million extremist anti-Jewish posts and found that anti-Jewish posts increased sharply during times of political uncertainty and unrest. Much of the anti-Jewish hate that’s being posted on social media seems to originate with domestic terrorists and foreign “trolls” in Russia and elsewhere: anonymous and misleading actors who are deliberately trying to stoke hatred towards Jews and foment divisions within the United States.

Prof. Ari Lightman, an expert in online extremism at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, recently spoke with Aish.com about the anti-Semitism that extremists are bringing into American online message boards and conversations – and what we can do to stop it.

He cautioned that it’s often impossible to know the true origin of social media posts and memes. What’s clear from his research, however, is that a plethora of social media users from hate groups, terrorist organizations, and hostile state actors are deliberately concealing their identities and posting anti-Jewish comments and memes, disguised as “ordinary” social media users.

A plethora of social media users from hate groups, terrorist organizations, and hostile state actors are deliberately concealing their identities and posting anti-Jewish comments and memes.
“In my research, a number of Russian fronts are covering for the old school KGB,” continuing that notorious spy agency's attempts to harm and destabilize Russia’s historically enemies – including the United States. “In order to create a positive image of Russia, they promote anti-American feelings to cause unrest.” The fact that the United States is a strong ally of Israel, and that Americans hold broadly pro-Israel feelings, means that attacking Israel – and by extension Jews – can be seen by America’s enemies as a mode of attack on America itself.


 
According to Dr. Lightman, it’s not only state-sponsored actors who are attacking Jews and Israel on American social media. “There are a lot of large monetary interests in Russia,” he explains. “There are oligarchs who have oil, shipping, arms contracts…. By stoking anti-Israel sentiment, there’s a possibility that it helps them sell more arms, more oil, more shipping to Middle Eastern countries… You can see how disinformation can benefit Russian political interests and monetary interests within Russia.”

The recent report, by the Network Contagion Research Institute (NCRI) at Rutgers University in New Jersey, found that anti-Jewish and anti-Israel posts draw on age-old canards that Jews have too much power and money and are somehow able to bend others towards their wills. Jews are portrayed as uniquely evil and even as having almost superhuman powers which they use to harm others.

Instead of attacking Jews in general, the Institute found that classic anti-Semitic stereotypes are applied to prominent Jews, then spread as conspiracy theories about those individual Jews – with the tacit understanding that these vial smears lower people’s opinions about all Jews in general. Two popular targets are the Rothschild banking family and the financier George Soros, who is a prominent donor to liberal causes. The NCRI found a clear correlation between the online hate that’s directed towards these prominent Jews and real-world attacks against Jews and Jewish interests.

Take George Soros. The Institute found that most attacks against Soros accuse him of being a globalist. He’s routinely accused of subverting “domestic sovereignty (and giving it) over to an international order while (it’s) being undermined internally by immigration and internationalism.” On a typical day, the NCRI found between 2,000 and 3,000 posts attacking George Soros on the sites it monitors. Many of these are posted in coordinated ways by foreign internet trolls and by domestic American extremists and hate figures.

Yet in the days leading up to the massacre at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh on October 27, 2018, the number of anti-George Soros posts rose dramatically to 14,000 a day. While it’s hard to prove that this was linked to the shooting, much of the rhetoric found online about George Soros seemed to echo the social media posts of the shooter, Robert Bowers.

Bowers explained his actions by saying that he blamed Jews for bringing immigrants into the United States. A few hours before he entered the synagogue and murdered eleven Jewish worshippers, he posted on the social network Gab about the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society (HIAS), which helps aid (legal) immigrants in the United States: “hias (sic) likes to bring invaders in that kill our people. I can’t sit by and watch my people get slaughtered. Screw our optics, I’m going in.” It was an echo of the anti-Semitic smears against George Soros that were filling the internet, and an uncanny example of online hate stoking real-life murder.

Some of the examples of online Jewish hate bear the hallmarks of sophisticated campaigns meant to demonize Jews and Israel.

Some of the examples of online Jewish hate bear the hallmarks of sophisticated campaigns meant to demonize Jews and Israel.
In 2020, people searching Google for the phrase “Jewish baby strollers” found sickening images of ovens on wheels. The NCRI was able to track down a series of messages on the popular extremist message board 4chan in which users boasted that they’d succeeded in manipulating Google’s search algorithms to post the images. While it’s impossible to discern the true identities of the people behind this and other malicious anti-Jewish posts, the NCRI found that both Russian trolls and American extremists sometimes coordinate their posts, sharing content and posting anti-Jewish memes and comments at the same time.

Who is behind this massive rise in anti-Semitic posts? Prof. Lightman cautions that there are many actors, and that they carefully conceal their identities when posting negative comments about Jews. Social media posts, cartoons, graphs and charts, memes and other content that we might assume was posted in good faith by ordinary people was often deliberately created in order to frighten us, inflame our passions, and stoke hate.

It’s “the usual suspects,” who are fomenting anti-Jewish hatred online, Prof. Lightman notes. “The KKK, any of the white supremacist groups, the Proud Boys… Also folks who you might not believe are directly in league with these white supremacist organizations.” These might be anti-Immigrant groups or anti-Israel interests, or even racial justice campaigners who oppose Israeli occupation of Judea and Samaria, the regions known as the West Bank of the Jordan River. These extremists “don’t really care about the collateral damage to an entire ethnic group” that hateful posts might engender, Prof. Lightman explains.

Prof. Lightman warns that online hate speech is increasing at an accelerating rate. “Misinformation is being designed to be subjective and misconstrued: it’s designed to deceive the public.” Alarmingly, extremist social media posts are proliferating even in mainstream social media sites – and our own behavior is making us vulnerable to being deceived.

One problem is the emergence of what academics studying online extremism call echo chambers: these are structural ways that social media sites allow us to keep out other people who might have different views from our own. “If we become friends on Facebook,” Prof. Lightman explains, “and we share a lot of beliefs, we might exclude others (from our online friend group). This reinforces each other’s beliefs to the exclusion of others.” Surrounding ourselves only with opinions that agree with ours online makes us uniquely vulnerable to believing ever more extreme variations of our existing political tenets.

Another problem emerging in social media is the existence of “filter bubbles” that are built into social media sites. Based on our behavior online – what we watch, comment on, click on or “like” – social media sites’ algorithms will feed us similar content. In time, this content can become ever more extreme.

In May 2020 the Wall Street Journal uncovered an internal study that Facebook commissioned – then buried – that showed the site’s algorithms was indeed feeding users ever more extreme content, effectively radicalizing them.

The NCRI report found a worrying increase of extremist anti-Jewish posts on ostensibly mainstream online sites. While extremist posts might originate and proliferate on marginal social media sites that are known for fostering hateful dialogue, these posts and the ideas behind them can migrate for more mainstream discourse online. Newly popular sites like TikTok and Parler have seen particularly high levels of anti-Semitic posts, Prof. Lightman notes.

Periods of civic unrest and transitions of power render people vulnerable to succumbing to online hate.
A key condition for that to happen is stress. Periods of civic unrest and transitions of power render people vulnerable to succumbing to online hate. The NCRI found that “anti-Jewish disinformation by conspiracy groups...peaked on Twitter at the onset of the Floyd social justice protests in May 2020, and remains higher now than it was before the coronavirus pandemic.” One day during the George Floyd protests, the NCRI documented 500,000 Tweets concerning George Soros in one day.

As we all endure the uncertainty of the pandemic, political unrest, and changes in political leadership, the conditions for higher levels of anti-Jewish hatred remain ripe. “We’re all targets for misinformation,” explains Prof. Lightman, “especially when we’re under duress – and we’ve all been under duress for ten months.” He calls misinformation the second pandemic that we’re all currently living through, and being grievously harmed by.

In the face of such coordinated anti-Jewish attacks – and the conditions that help people be more open to believe them – what can we as individuals do to stop online hatred for Jews and Israel and for other marginalized groups?

“We have to be incredibly skeptical and diligent in association with the information we get,” Prof. Lightman cautions. Keep in mind that seemingly authentic sources of information might be completely fabricated. Studies can be biased, graphs that we see online might be wrong, and posts that seem as if they originated with a real-world person might have been written by a terrorist, or by a neo-Nazi, or by a person who’s being paid by a foreign government to impersonate Americans and write hateful posts. “Think like a journalist,” Prof. Lightman urges. Don’t be quick to believe what you read online.

Elderly people and teenagers are particularly vulnerable to misinformation, he notes, and are often targeted on social media. “We have to be skeptical of all the information we consume online." This is a lesson that’s crucial to teach to our kids, who often engage in social media sites where misinformation and hateful posts are rife.

It’s an uphill battle. Most of us are consumers of social media and are exposed to the misinformation and anti-Semitism that fills our screens. We each have an obligation to do what we can to educate ourselves, to speak out when we see incorrect or hateful posts, and to limit our own social media consumption.

In a world with so much hatred and division, perhaps turning away from our computers and phones and making an effort to engage with people in the real world instead is a good place to start.