English Blog

We Lost Power in the Middle of Services!

Thursday, August 31, 2023 - 1:49 PM

I just spent 10 magical days in South Africa—the country I grew up in which will always have a special place in my heart.

On Friday night, I davened in the magnificent Sydenham shul, where my brother-in-law, Rabbi Yehuda Stern, is the rabbi. The choir and chazan sang beautifully. The energy was vibrant and moving. I was the guest speaker and gave what I hope was an inspiring sermon.

But then, just as I finished speaking, all the lights went out. It was pitch black.

I was sitting with my boys, watching everyone’s reaction.

Nothing.

Nobody panicked, nobody screamed, nobody ran for the doors. In fact, the service continued uninterrupted. After a couple of minutes the generator kicked in and the lights turned back on.

What happened? It’s called “load shedding” and has become par for the course in South Africa. The country does not have enough power, so they cut it at certain times of the day. When we were at a restaurant, the power suddenly went out, we waited a few minutes, and the generators kicked in. The street lights don’t work. Your stove and hot water will suddenly go off. Many people are investing in solar panels for their homes, as well as inverters and generators. Every morning when I went to shower, I prayed, “Please, Hashem, let it be hot!”

I discussed it with my sister Estee, the rebbetzin, amazed that no one panicked in shul, and she shared a powerful thought: Nobody panics because they know the lights will definitely come back on in a matter of minutes, as soon as the generator kicks in. Knowing that the darkness is temporary allows them to stay calm.

And I realized there’s a tremendous parallel here to our spiritual lives. We are in exile, and the lights have been turned off ever since the destruction of the Holy Temple. But we’ve become so accustomed to the dark, that we think we are living in the light. It’s become our norm; we don’t recognize what we’re missing.

We know, however, that soon Hashem will turn the lights on. We know that Moshiach, the Final Redemption, and the rebuilding of the Temple are all imminent.

And the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s message to the Jews of South Africa was always: “It will be good for the Jews in South Africa until Moshiach comes, and even afterwards.”

The coming of Moshiach is imminent; let’s hasten it by doing an extra mitzvah today.

I Was Asked to Remove My Kippah

Thursday, August 24, 2023 - 9:51 AM

We just spent an incredible 10 days in South Africa, where I grew up and where my parents and sisters still live.

To get home, we flew out of Oliver Tambo Airport in Johannesburg. We went through security, as I’ve done hundreds of times before, but this time, after I emptied my pockets and put my bags on the conveyor belt, the security guard asked me to remove my kippah while walking through the metal detector.

I refused. I explained to him it’s a kippah, a religious item worn to remind me that the One Above is watching my every step. All four of my boys were with me, wearing their kippahs (we start at age 3). I explained to the security guard that we cannot walk without it; we even sleep with it!

He was upset by my firm refusal, but I remained steadfast. It’s so deeply ingrained in every fiber of my being.

When I was about 8 years old, I was in the lead in a running race. Just before the finish line, my kippah fell off, and I had a split second to decide: continue to the finish line without my kippah or stop and pick it up. I chose the latter and came in third place, but I will never forget the experience. I may have lost the race, but the importance of never removing my kippah has stayed with me all these years later.

I told the security guard that there is no requirement for me to remove my head covering; I’ve been through hundreds of TSA checks and never been asked to.
Ultimately, I was forced to compromise. He asked me to just lift my kippah for a second so he could see there was nothing dangerous hidden underneath. I did, and my children followed suit.

In retrospect, though, I should not even have compromised on that.

As Jews living in this world we have a mission, a job, and that includes being openly and proudly Jewish. By wearing our Judaism for all to see, we show the world that there is a G-d who watches our every step and whose way of life we are proud to live.

How else can we display our pride? By ensuring our houses contain only kosher food, that despite the pressure our cell phones are shut off on Shabbat, and by making time to study Torah for a few minutes every day.

We’ve been given a gift—let’s wear it proudly at all times.

The Lion at Kruger National Park

Thursday, August 17, 2023 - 10:55 AM

Kruger National Park is my favorite place to visit. Growing up, we went there often, and last week I relished the opportunity to take my kids for a few nights while we were on vacation in South Africa.

Seeing the animals in their natural environment is an experience like no other. Despite watching them hunt and kill, there is something uniquely relaxing about being in nature with wild animals.

We woke up at 5am to go on a game drive; the animals are most active in the early morning and dusk hours. It was freezing cold (it’s winter in South Africa) and we were in an open vehicle. Suddenly we saw a male lion, king of all animals, get up, stretch his head back and roar. I was enthralled but my kids were terrified!

The night before I’d told them that the lion is the strongest of all animals, and explained about how lions hunt in a way that no animal dares to attack. Now, up close at 6am, they wanted none of it! I knew the chances of the lion attacking us were virtually nil, but my kids just wanted to leave.

Today is the first day of Elul, exactly 30 days before Rosh Hashanah when we will stand in front of the King of all kings, the almighty G-d.

For the next 30 days we will blow the shofar every morning, trying to awaken the love and fear of G-d we all have inside of us. When it’s tangible and in front of us, like a lion, it’s easy to feel. But when it’s out of sight, like G-d, it’s a little more challenging.

But we are told that during Elul, the king is in the field. What does this mean? When a king is in his palace, he is remote and aloof—accessible only to a select few. When the king travels the countryside, however, meeting with his subjects, he is accessible to all.

In this pivotal month as we prepare for the High Holy Days, G-d is right here, closeby, and easily accessible to all of us. How can we best take advantage of this opportunity? Connect with Him. Nurture the relationship. Pray, put on tefillin, learn Torah, and you will start to feel that love and fear. Listen to the shofar and imagine that you are literally in front of the King of all kings. We have a unique and fleeting opportunity—let’s grab on with both hands (to G-d, not the lion!) and use it to our fullest advantage.

Enough!

Thursday, August 3, 2023 - 12:51 PM

This week the world prematurely lost a very special soul—my cousin, Rabbi Yitzchak Marton, 48, who dedicated his life to helping widows and orphans in Israel. So many prayers were recited, countless tears shed, over the past 18 months as he suffered from a terrible disease. Surely these prayers and tears are escorting him to the Heavenly throne.

Itzik, as he was fondly called, had a rare knack for making others feel comfortable. I consulted with him many times on various issues and he was always warm, genuine, caring, and insightful. He was able to relate to people in all kinds of situations and made me feel like my problems were his own.

On a Friday morning a few weeks ago, I received a message that my dear cousin had been rushed to Lenox Hill hospital in Manhattan. I went to visit and realized that their children needed a place to stay for Shabbos. Of course, we offered our home, which is so close to the hospital.

They ended up staying with us for two weeks. I feel honored to have been able to host them during this difficult time in their lives.

Thirty years ago, I was a 14-year-old boy in high school in Israel. My family was in South Africa, and I was alone in a foreign country—not the most comfortable position. I had to find places to go for the weekends, and most weeks I found myself going to my cousins in Lod who lived in a three-bedroom apartment with their 12 children. It took me years to appreciate their sacrifice, but whenever I went they gave me my own room! I knew my cousins were sleeping on a bench in the living room, but at the time they just smiled and made me feel so welcome, I didn’t realize the depths of their hachnasat orchim. And every Sunday, as I headed back to school, my aunt would load me up with bags of food to fill me up for the week.

With their smiles and laughter, those cousins taught me the art of hachnasat orchim. One of those cousins, Rochke, married Itzik, and I was thankful to be able to return a smidgen of the hospitality they showed me 30 years ago.

There are no words to describe the pain of this young family who have endured suffering no one should have to witness or experience. Towards the end, Itzik was only able to communicate through writing. Lying in bed, in extreme pain, he wrote one word.

Enough.

One powerful word.

Enough.

One word that encapsulates our Judaism

Enough.

Enough golus. Enough exile. Enough pain. Ad matai? Until when? Hashem, we cannot endure this exile any longer! There is too much pain, too much suffering, too many widows, too many orphans … enough!

Itzik, I’m sure you are using your charm and natural talent to befriend the angels of heaven. And I know you are insisting “Enough!” with all your heart and soul. Time to bring Moshiach, end all pain and suffering, and wipe away the tears of every widow and orphan.

May Hashem comfort the entire family.