I admit I am intolerant. At times I am bigoted towards others. I judge people by the way they look, the way they walk, the way they talk, and an immeasurable amount of other calculated imagery I build up in my mind about them.
Standing at the funeral last night my mind was flooded with thoughts. There was just too much to think about, what happened is incomprehensible and it defies logic. In the midst of thousands of people who came to respect the young boy there was a collective sorrow and our hearts were at a proverbial half mast. An innocent child was literally butchered. What a nightmare. There were sobs throughout the ceremony, many coming from people who did not know the boy as the tragedy shook our innermost being and our core. Life is so precious; we know that through being a parent and a sibling, and we know that as we see youngsters grow and celebrate life. There are so many joys throughout life. But then there was this. Our heart as human beings is hurting badly.
Wherever I went on this heartbreaking day, all the parents I met seemed to have the same reaction. In the face of such a horrific event, it’s the most natural thing in the world. But even in our shared grief, we need to channel our protective parental instincts in the spirit of “V’hachai yitein el libo,” and the living shall take to heart… in a healthy and helpful way.
How can we best serve our children? What is the best way to warn them of stranger danger?
From the Inbox: I can write about the pain of watching friends and younger siblings becoming moms, or the segulos I tried, but I’d rather talk about some of the upsides of the miserable reality of infertility.
While hundreds of Bocherim are about get sent on Shlichus, many are left behind. One Bocher who calls himself Zalman sent us this email from his friend’s iPhone (who is getting Shlichus).
Sitting on a plane to Melbourne, following a whirlwind 24 hours that had me driving to NY from Montreal Canada, boarding an LA bound plane on to my present location- some 40,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean- at 2:14 AM Sydney time. I look back at the last months and contemplate the journey here, a crazy, but incredible road. My internal clock is all off, so excuse the rambling tone.
I knew it was happening, I even heard the drumming, but I did not attend the annual 71st Precinct Family Day Picnic.
I don’t like the police, I think they are just a tool used to fill the city’s coffers.
There was a great buzz of excitement when it was announced that Netanyahu had been invited to deliver an address before the entire congress. It was to be his second congressional address since he was first invited 15 years ago. On the evening following his address, I was told by a friend that it was one of the greatest speeches he’d heard in his life, featuring 29 standing ovations. I eagerly went to watch the speech, anticipating a great rebuttal to Obama’s pressure on Israel to give away our G-d given land to the Arabs. To my sorrow, it was anything but.
No, I am not one of those brazen young women who walk down the streets of Brooklyn in steep necklines that beg for cover out of sheer embarrassment, or bare feet tipped brightly in red nail polish, peering out cheerfully from between flip flop separators.
Forgive the imperfections contained in this column. I am writing it quickly and late at night in order to respond to Chabad feedback I have received the entire day concerning the launch event I staged this past Sunday in Alpine, New Jersey with House Majority Leader Eric Cantor as guest of honor.
In case you have spent your Passover vacation on another planet, you have not heard that the wedding of Prince William of Wales and Catherine (Kate) Middleton is scheduled to take place at Westminster Abbey on Friday.
I had a business relationship with the owner of a local mattress retailer. On one of my sales visits to him, in addition to our discussing his regular display ad in the paper he began inquiring into placing a classified ad, seeking a new salesman/manager. I detected a smirk on his face, so naturally I asked him what that was all about.
What more is there to say about the Lubavitcher Rebbe 16 years after his passing, on the occasion of his birthday, that has not already been said? I was pondering that question as I walked the streets of my boyhood town of Miami Beach over Passover.
‘Living what she spoke’, Rabbi Chaim Wolosow – Shliach in Sharon, MA – writes an amazing tribute to his dear mother Sara Relke OBM, whose year of mourning recently concluded.
Miriam Sherr, the mother of Yossi Sherr, who 20 years after his passing, writes a letter thanking his school and teachers for keeping his memory alive at the annual Yud Aleph Nissan Mitzvah Tank parade.
Winds of uncertainty are blowing across the globe. A tsunami in Japan, renewed terrorist attacks in Israel, a middle-east – from Egypt to Libya, Syria to Yemen – in crisis. And the future remains unsure. Will the sun shine again? Will stability re-emerge after the storm dies down?
Pashkevilim against education guru Rick Lavoie were put out in Crown Heights shuls, prompting a heated debate. Yehuda Adelist wrote a response.
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