"The TorahAnyTimes" Newsletter    Print version

Parashat Devarim
9th of Av, 5776 | August 13, 2016

Compiled and Edited by Elan Perchik

Rebbetzin Sarah Meisels
Danny’s Amen

באו ורשו את הארץ אשר נשבע ד' לאבתיכם

Come and possess the land which Hashem has sworn to your forefathers... (Devarim 1:8)

On one occasion, I had the opportunity to speak to four hundred teachers at a Yom Iyun seminar in Jerusalem. At this event was a young man helping to manage the microphone system, which happened to be having some technical issues. I went on to deliver my talk, after which the young man drove me home. Having heard most of my speech, which centered around the power of saying “Amen,” he asked if I would like to hear a story. “Of course I would,” I said; “please go ahead.”

“I used to be a soldier in the Israeli Army. It was 1982 and Israel was fighting Lebanon in what would come to be known as Milchemet Shalom HaGalil. My battalion had been stationed in Metula, a city bordering Lebanon. We all waited for the signal to enter Lebanon, although we were unsure what the future held.

One late afternoon, as we stood all gathered together, one of the religious soldiers yelled, “It’s close to sunset! Time to daven Mincha!” Complying with the call, the multitude of soldiers assembled together to pray. Except for one whose name was Danny. He was completely irreligious and had just about no connection to Judaism. However, as he noticed all the soldiers heading somewhere, he grew curious. “Where is everyone going?” he asked. “We’re praying Mincha now,” they told him. While all the soldiers were understandably nervous about the war and praying served as a source of comfort and confidence that they would be watched over and protected by Hashem, Danny felt the same. “I’m also afraid,” he said, “and I want to do something. But I don’t know how to pray.”

Quickly thinking, we asked him, “Do you know how to answer Amen?” Responding in the affirmative, we told him that any time he heard a blessing being made, he should say “Amen!” aloud. By doing so and bearing in mind that with this declaration he was affirming his belief in Hashem, he would be doing something that would serve as a tremendous merit.

For the next three weeks, every time Danny heard a blessing, he loudly answered “Amen!” with the greatest of concentration. It was something special to see. When the war ended three weeks later, I returned home to Jerusalem and Danny headed back home to the north of Israel where he lived on a kibbutz.

Six years later, I was walking in Jerusalem when, all of a sudden, I felt a pat on my back. Turning around to see if someone was trying to catch my attention, a man with a black beard, suit and hat stood there. “Shalom Aleichem!” he said. “Do you recognize me?” Looking closely at the man, I had no idea who he was. “I’m sorry, but I never met you before in my life.” “Don’t you remember? Think again. Remember Danny, Mincha, Metula…” As he mentioned those words, a picture of Danny six years before came to mind. But I still couldn’t believe that the person standing in front of me was actually Danny. After all, he had been completely disaffiliated from Judaism before. “Danny, what happened?” I curiously asked. “Let me tell you,” he began to say.

After I returned to the kibbutz following the war, for the next few months, the word “Amen” was echoing in my mind. Everywhere I went, I kept on thinking about Amen. At that point, I knew I needed to discover the true meaning of this powerful word. Getting on my motorcycle, I drove to Jerusalem in search of an answer. When I arrived, I approached the first religious Jew I saw and asked to be directed to the closest yeshiva. Telling me about Ohr Somayach, I proceeded to go there and ask the Rosh Yeshiva to fully explain the meaning and import of the word Amen. From learning about the tremendous significance of Amen, I continued on to learning about making berachot, then keeping kosher and then observing Shabbat. For the next two years, I remained studying in Ohr Somayach and did not once go home. I would phone my parents, but I wished to immerse myself in learning Torah and soaking up the yeshiva environment. After two years, I finally decided to make a trip home and visit my family.

Walking into my house, my mother was not too happy in seeing how far I progressed in my pursuit of Judaism and my father was quite angry. They stilled loved me, but my religious growth was something they were not expecting. And then I saw my grandfather. “Danny,” he said, “we’re going to a lawyer.” Not sure what my growth in Judaism had to do with a lawyer, I asked what he meant. “Danny, you became religious and have taken things too far. We are going to a lawyer and I will tell him to take you off my will.” My grandfather was quite a wealthy man, and this meant losing out on quite an inheritance. But that would not stop me. Without hesitation, I turned around and headed back to Ohr Somayach.

Continuing to learn in the yeshiva, not too long thereafter, I met a wonderful girl and planned on getting married. Hearing about my engagement, my family came to Jerusalem to see me.

As my father and grandfather arrived, I noticed that they were both wearing a yarmulke. Uncharacteristic for them to do so, I inquisitively asked what had happened. “Listen Danny,” said my grandfather, “I want to tell you something.”

“When I was a young boy living with my family in Poland, the Nazis entered my hometown. And to my chagrin, they literally ruined everything and took away everyone. My entire family and my friends and yeshiva did not survive. I was left alone. I then made aliyah to Israel where I looked to rebuild myself. I went on to marry your grandmother and raise your father. He was our only child. After your father grew up and got married, he was blessed to have two boys: you, and your brother, Rafi. Seven years ago, your brother disappeared in Thailand. We do not know what happened and we have never heard from him since.

After having seen you take major strides in Judaism, however, I have come to the conclusion at this stage in my life that your way is the best way. And so, I have begun to make my own steps in furthering my commitment to Torah and mitzvot. I realize that this is the true way for a Jew to live.

And so, Danny, after your wedding and sheva berachot, we are going to return to the lawyer and redo the paperwork. Everything in my will is yours.

As this boy who was driving me home related this moving story to me, I was quite touched. But then he added, “Rebbetzin, although Danny inherited his grandfather’s estate, he in truth inherited something much more precious. The inheritance of a Torah life – “Torah tziva lanu Moshe morasha kehillat Yaakov” – “The Torah which Moshe commanded us is the inheritance of the Congregation of Jacob” (Devarim 33:4).

Danny today lives in Jerusalem with his beautiful family and continues to learn in a community Kollel. It all started from the one word of Amen. From the smallest of steps taken in coming closer to Hashem and His Torah, the greatest of leaps can eventually be made. All it takes is one little word, and from there, the rest is history.

Ms. Chevi Garfinkel
Future Visions

Although I never met Sarah Schenirer, my grandmother did. My grandmother, Chana Garfinkel, was 19 years old when she went to Bais Yaakov. She actually shared an adjacent wall with Sarah Schenirer and used to bring her water to wash her hands every morning when she woke up.

My grandmother related that one night when she was unable to sleep, she awoke around 4am. Noticing that a light was on in Sarah Schenirer’s room, she ventured over to her door and peered through the key hole to see what was going on. Sarah Schenirer was sitting at her desk with a pencil pressed into her forehead. After a few moments, she quickly picked up her head and said, “Ah! I slept for ten minutes; there’s so much work to do!” There were papers and papers piled up on her desk. Copy machines were yet to be invented, and so, everything had to be written out by hand and then copied over for each student individually. Sarah Schenirer would handwrite her lesson plans as well as the handouts she planned on giving her students.

It was those very same lesson plans that my grandmother used when she started teaching in her earlier twenties. Responsible for establishing around twenty-two different schools in Europe, my grandmother tirelessly worked to provide countless Jewish girls with a Torah education. However, to our deepest chagrin, we do not know of a single survivor from any of those schools. Not a single student that we know of made it through the war.

Every day before I walk into my classroom, I think about this. And then I say to Hashem, “Please give me the strength and capability to properly teach these girls. Put the right words in my mouth and enable these students to learn Torah and live out its beautiful values and ideals. Let me complete the unfinished work of my grandmother and teach the granddaughters of those many girls whose lives were cut short, yet were so dedicated to the words of Torah they learned.”

Sarah Schenirer had a vision, my grandmother had a vision and we must all have a vision. Hashem created this wonderful world for us to build beautiful families and communities founded upon a life of Torah, and it is our job to see to it that such goals come to fulfillment. Coming closer to Hashem, infusing ourselves, our families and our students with a love of Torah and a love of life are where our focus ought to be placed. In this way, we can look forward to embracing a wonderfully rich life filled with true meaning and beauty.

Mr. Charlie Harary
Changing the World

I once had the opportunity to learn with Rav Noach Weinberg zt”l for a number of hours. Sitting with him in his office, at one point he turned to me and said, “Charlie, can you change the world?” “No,” I said. “No?” he continued to ask. “Yes.” “Yes?” again asked Rav Weinberg. At this point, I didn’t know what to say. I was just about saying, “No, yes, Am Yisroel Chai, G-d save the Queen, I love Judaism.” Finally, I turned to Rav Weinberg and said, “Rabbi, I don’t know what to say to this question right now.”

He then looked at me and asked again, “Can you change the world?” “I don’t know.” “Can one person kill six million people?” To that, I knew the answer. “Yes,” I affirmed. “Can one person save six million people?” “I guess so.” “So then why has no one done it?” Not knowing what to say, he explained.

“Let me tell you why. It is because when we wake up in the morning and look into the mirror, what do we say to ourselves? ‘Not me? I can’t do that!’ But when Adolf Hitler ym”s woke up in the morning, what did he say, “You bet I can!” He realized what one person can accomplish, and understood that one person has the power to change the world. The problem is that we do not believe in ourselves. We do not have any idea who we are and just how much we can achieve.”

It behooves us to carefully listen to these wise words. Every single one of us can achieve the extraordinary. It all begins with believing in ourselves. Once that is done, not even the skies are the limits.

A Short Message From
Rabbi Ephraim Lever

For the past 1,946 years, the Jewish people have been commemorating Tisha B’av. Thinking about this number, one cannot help but wonder why so many years later we still remember this day in history. Have you ever heard of someone commemorating June 18th as the Battle of Waterloo or October 14th as the Battle of Hastings? How then are we meant to understand our mourning for nearly two centuries over the Beit Hamikdash? The answer is that we are not simply mourning the past, but the present. We are not merely reminiscing about what we lost thousands of years ago, but what we are missing today. In this respect, this year’s Tisha B’av is as real as last year’s, if not sadder and more painful, for we have yet to restore Jerusalem to its former glory.