Blogs

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Ordained By The Shoah

Here’s a story as it appeared in the New York Jewish Week as part of an article entitled “Ordained By The Shoah” by Steve Lipman

http://www.thejewishweek.com/viewArticle/c39_a13912/News/International.html

A stranger who called Rabbi Yaacov Haber in Buffalo had an unusual accent and a more unusual request.

The stranger, a minister in the Hungarian Reformed Church, wanted to meet to discuss the “Old Testament.”

Rabbi Haber, spiritual leader of a small Orthodox synagogue and director of an educational outreach center, usually was wary of possibly missionary-inclined Christian clergy. But he invited the stranger – the rabbi, who now lives in Jerusalem, calls him Rev. Andre Fekete, a pseudonym, to protect his anonymity – to his study.

Why are you so interested in Jewish scriptures, Rabbi Haber asked.

“I’m Jewish,” Rev. Fekete answered.

“What do you mean you’re Jewish?”

Rev. Fekete explained – raised in a secular Jewish home in Budapest, he and his sister were sheltered in a convent on the outskirts of the capital after the Nazis occupied Hungary in 1944. Bar mitzvah age then, he stayed in the convent after liberation and converted to Christianity; he eventually married a Jewish girl who also had been protected by the nuns, became a minister in the Hungarian section of the Protestant church, moved to the United States after the Hungarian Revolution of 1956, took over a pulpit in Buffalo, and struggled with his Christian faith.

Then he read an article about Rabbi Haber and requested a meeting.

The day after his first meeting with Rabbi Haber, he went to a class at the rabbi’s Torah Center of Buffalo. He kept going for more than a year, attending Shabbat services at the Saranac Synagogue and becoming a frequent guest at the Habers’ Shabbat meals.

The more he learned about Judaism, the more Rev. Fekete came to doubt the tenets of Christianity. He and his wife raised their children, he told Rabbi Haber, without a religious tradition.

How did he preach on Sundays without mentioning Jesus?

“I listen to your sermon” on Saturday “and I say it over in Hungarian” the next day, Rev. Fekete told the rabbi.

He began coming less frequently to Shabbat services, to avoid driving on Shabbat.

Finally, tired of “living a lie,” Rev. Fekete left his church. He quit his job, and with his wife, a nurse, opened a nursing home in a wealthy suburb of Buffalo.

Before he died about a decade ago, Fekete, no longer a reverend, lived as an identified, if not a fully observant, member of the Jewish community.

“He definitely lived as a Jew,” Rabbi Haber says. “He definitely died as a Jew.”

Thursday, October 23, 2008

My Grandfather From Izmir

This is a story about my mothers father Eliyahu Canyaz that I heard as a child. It was recently beautifully written by Pesi Dinnerstein and published in Small Miracles of the Holocaust: Extraordinary Coincidences of Faith, Hope, and Survival. I would like to share it with you.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Canyaz. Running a little late today, aren’t you?”

“Bonjour, mon ami. Yes, running a little late, as usual.”

Eliyahu Canyaz was a familiar figure on the streets of Marseilles, traveling from home to home, a bit behind schedule most days, delivering fresh eggs to his Jewish and non-Jewish neighbors. An exceptionally tall and stately man, clean-shaven, with his beret tipped slightly to one side, he looked as if he could have fit comfortably in either world.

But any Jew living in France in 1942 knew exactly which world he belonged to. Hitler and his steadily advancing army made certain of that.
Eliyahu, however, needed no reminding.

An Orthodox Jew whose life was totally immersed in his religion, he never forgot for a moment who he was or why he was here. Even in these difficult times, his commitment remained unshaken.

Originally from Turkey, Eliyahu and his family found a warm and welcoming community of Sephardic Jews in Marseilles. Here, he also found the most beautiful synagogue he had ever seen in his life. And seeing was not something that Eliyahu Canyaz took lightly.

Even with his bottle-thick glasses, he could barely recognize a figure two feet in front of him. Nevertheless, within his limited circle of vision, he managed to engage in most of the meaningful activities of his daily life. With a considerable amount of squinting and repositioning, he was usually able to see his family and friends, the customers to whom he sold his eggs, and the holy books with which he studied and prayed every day.

Beyond that point, however, the rest of his world seemed to be enveloped in a shadowy cloud of haze, a sad fact of life which Eliyahu endured with relative equanimity. Except, that is, when it came to his synagogue. Not being able to experience the full richness of its beauty was profoundly disturbing to him.

He knew that the synagogue was magnificent, embodying the simple elegance and fine craftsmanship of another age, an edifice worthy of the spiritual treasures it contained. And he appreciated the special beauty of each element--the delicately arched windows, the hand-carved wood, the translucent tiles of polished marble, even the graceful chandelier spiraling down from the cathedral ceiling, far beyond the reach of his sight.

But, more than anything, he longed to see the majesty of his synagogue in one grand, expansive sweep; a never-experienced panoramic view. Instead, he had to settle for a series of individual close-ups, each frame disconnected from the next, as he drew near enough to bring the scenes, one by one, into his narrow sphere of vision. Only in his mind’s eye did all the fragments converge into a single breathtaking picture.

Although Eliyahu would never be able to see the synagogue as others did, he dedicated his life to caring for it and preserving its sanctity. Eventually, he became the official shamesh, the person who enables the synagogue to function spiritually by attending to all of its physical needs. In the Sephardic community of Marseilles, this was a position second in importance and holiness only to that of the rabbi; and Eliyahu took the responsibility very much to heart.

Orthodox Jews meet three times a day in the synagogue for prayer, and Eliyahu--although not generally known for his punctuality--made certain that whenever the congregatlon arrived, the large wooden door was unlocked, the tea kettle was boiling, the chairs were neatly arranged, and the service was ready to begin. Even as Hitler’s troops marched steadily through France, Eliyahu saw to it that the synagogue offered comfort and refuge to the Jews of Marseilles.

But by 1942, there was little left for Jews anywhere to call their own. And, so, it should have come as no surprise that one day, as the men of Marseilles approached their synagogue, they were greeted by a large sign announcing that the building had been officially confiscated by the Nazis and would henceforth be used as a clubhouse. Expected or not, the news came as a crushing blow.

However, a curious thing happened. Several weeks passed, and the Nazis never returned. Whenever members of the community walked by, they saw that the building was obviously not in use. But, still, to risk their lives and go in....No one was ready to do that just yet. Until, one day, Eliyahu couldn’t bear it any longer.

Determined to reclaim his synagogue at any cost, he showed up early one morning, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and started to prepare for services. Little by little, inspired by his courage, the members gradually came back. The Nazis, it seemed, had forgotten all about this building and gone on to bigger conquests. Before long, the men were once again assembling for prayer three times a day, and Eliyahu was busy attending to their needs. Many months passed with no disruption. Life seemed to have returned to normal.

But, as history has since taught us, for the Jews of Europe in the 1940’s, life would never return to anything even remotely resembling normal.

The day that would forever be remembered by the Jews of Marseilles began, as any other, with the men walking together to the synagogue and chatting pleasantly along the way.

“Spring is in the air this morning, Avraham, don’t you think?”

“Oui, Binyomin. Any day now, I’ll be planting my garden. I can already taste the tomatoes. An early spring this year, for sure, wouldn’t you say, Yaacov?”

“Non, non, mes amis, not just yet. Winter, I’m afraid, will return once more.”

Slowly, the men walked into the synagogue, stopping, as Orthodox Jews traditionally do, to raise their right arm toward the ark that holds the sacred Torah scrolls and, then, to touch their fingers to their lips, signifying their love of G-d’s holy words. Each man then donned his tallit (prayer shawl) and tefillin (phylacteries), opened his siddur (prayer book), and began to recite the morning blessings, the sweet harmony of their voices echoing gently throughout the room.

Suddenly, without a second’s warning, the heavy wooden door crashed open. Before anyone had time to react, a group of enraged Nazis in full uniform burst into the sanctuary, with rifles raised and ready to fire.

“Jewish cockroaches!” they screamed. “How dare you defy our orders and trespass upon our property?!”

The Jews of Marseilles immediately found themselves surrounded, with no chance of escape. Shouting at the terrified men in French and German, the Nazis tore the prayer shawls from their shoulders and pushed them to the back of the synagogue.

At that moment, the large wooden door began to open once again, but this time the movement was extremely slow and deliberate. A tense silence filled the room, as all eyes turned toward the entrance. No one knew whether the door was being pushed by Nazi sympathizers, armed Partisans, or more unsuspecting Jews. Whoever walked in, however, would surely see a sight never to be forgotten--a historical synagogue of legendary beauty about to become a blood-stained dot on Hitler’s map.

Finally, the door opened all the way, and in stepped the one person incapable of beholding such a sight.

Eliyahu Canyaz, totally oblivious to what was transpiring, did what he usually did when he arrived a bit late. He stood quietly in the doorway, gently placed his boxes of eggs on the floor, and raised his right arm toward the Torah scrolls. In that moment, two antithetical realities collided, and an unexpected miracle was produced.

In Eliyahu’s reality, he was entering the synagogue that he loved and that he risked his life three times a day to care for and pray in. And, as he always did, he lifted his arm in the direction of the ark to bring his mind and body closer to the Torah, to link heaven and earth in the service of G-d.

But the Nazis existed in a separate reality. When they looked at Eliyahu stepping through the door, they saw a tall, beret-clad Frenchman, whose only purpose in coming to the synagogue was obviously to deliver eggs to the Jews. And in his arm-raising gesture of connection to a higher world, the Nazis saw an unmistakable salute to their Fuhrer.

“Heil Hitler!,” they shouted to a startled Eliyahu, as they raised their arms and sharply clicked their heels in response.

Before Eliyahu could fully grasp what was happening so far beyond the range of his vision, one of the Nazis called out to him in French, “Leave immediately, Monsieur! You have no reason to be here.”
Without a word, Eliyahu Canyaz turned and walked away. As he stumbled toward the street, he began to pray intensely for all of his friends trapped inside. Then, with tears streaming down his face, he thanked G-d for helping him to escape--and, in the process, for answering the one question that had haunted him for as long as he could remember.

Now, at last, he understood that, rather than being a curse, his poor eyesight was, in fact, a very special blessing. It was, after all, only because of his virtual blindness, coupled with the distorted vision of the Nazis, that he was still alive. And it was also, perhaps, only because of his selfless devotion to a synagogue he could never fully see, that G-d chose to make it the site of the miracle through which his life was spared.

Monday, September 29, 2008

Exciting New Beginnings

Rosh HaShanah is tonight and I’m actually very excited about it. I love change; I love the opportunity to begin anew; I love new people and new challenges and I love Rosh Hashanah.

What’s new?

First of all we have a new granddaughter. Reb Moshe and Ester Malka Becker gave birth to a brand new baby girl on Shabbos in Yerushalayim. By the time Shabbos ended the new baby already had a name, Naama, inspired by the beautiful view of the sun setting over Yerushalayim ushering in a new Shabbos and an all new and precious neshamah.

Second, this evening I begin my new position as Rav of Kehilas Shivtei Yeshurun in Ramat Beit Shemesh. I am very excited about the opportunity to teach and lead a community of young families that don’t seem to have anything on their mind or agenda other then growing in Torah and becoming close to Hashem. A rabbi’s dream!

Of course that means that this year, with G-d’s help, we will be moving into a new home, (which is really nothing new to us being our eighteenth move!)

Most important is the new year - 5759. Life is not one long continuum. Every year on Rosh Hashanah Hashem positions us anew. He gives us the chance to start fresh - what can be happier then that?

I wish all my friends a year full of fresh new blessings full of peace in your families, in Klal Yisroel and in the world.

Yaacov Haber

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Georgia, Russia and Bnei Brak

From my research it seems this story is verified and true. This is an article in this mornings Jerusalem Post.

Aug 12, 2008 16:57 | Updated Aug 13, 2008 1:22
Georgia’s PM asks for rabbi’s blessing
By MATTHEW WAGNER

Georgian Prime Minister Vladimer (Lado) Gurgenidze made a special call to Israel Tuesday morning to receive a blessing from one of the haredi community’s most important rabbis and spiritual leaders, Rabbi Aharon Leib Steinman.

The nonagenarian rabbi from Bnei Brak, known as the father of the yeshiva world, acquiesced to Gurgenidze’s request and blessed the Jewish community of Georgia “and all who live in that place.”

According to Steinman’s followers, shortly after the rabbi uttered the blessing Russia announced a cease-fire with war-torn Georgia.

During Tuesday’s morning prayers, Rabbi Shimon Bruk, the chairman of the Israel branch of The Council for Saving Lost Jews (Hava’ad L’hatzalat Nidchei Yisrael), a haredi organization that builds educational institutions in Eastern Europe, received a phone call from Georgia.

“I was in the middle of my prayers so all I could do was grunt into the phone,” recalled Bruk.

“Shortly after I finished praying the amida my phone rang again. ‘This is Prime Minister of Georgia Vladimer Gurgenidze speaking. You brought me a letter from a man named Stumen [sic]. Is he still alive? I’ve heard that he is a holy man. I want him to pray for us and our state.’”

Bruk said he had met with Steinman around noon on Tuesday and presented Gurgenidze’s request to the rabbi.

“There were a lot of raised eyebrows when shortly after Rabbi Steinman made the blessing, we heard about the cease-fire,” recalled Bruk.

Bruk had met with Georgia’s prime minister in March to thank him for his support for Jewish educational institutions built in Georgia by the council. During the meeting Bruk presented Gurgenidze with a letter from Steinman in which the rabbi referred to the Georgian government as a “regime of loving-kindness.”

Steinman’s letter is reportedly hanging on the wall of Gurgenidze’s office.

The council has been operating in Eastern Europe since before the fall of the Berlin Wall and the disintegration of the Soviet Union.

In Tbilisi, Georgia, the council runs a nursery school, two grade schools, a yeshiva for boys and a high school for girls. Many of Tbilisi’s Jewish educators and rabbis, including Chief Rabbi of Georgia Ariel Levine, are products of the local educational institutions.

... and from YNET: “You can’t ignore the fact that during the precise moments in which the meeting took place at Rabbi Shteinman’s house, Russian President Dmitry Medvedev announced a ceasefire,” the Vaad’s public relations representative, Betzalel Kahan, told Ynet.

Monday, August 11, 2008

The New Way To Teach Torah

Yesterday, Rabbi David Aaron, Rabbi David Fohrman and I taught Torah online. Nothing new about that. To be sure there are hundreds of online shiurim and MP3 downloads available to anyone in the world with internet acsess.

What was different about this program was the interactivity. As I spoke questions and comments came pouring in in real time. It was a conversation without borders and without any geographical limitations. There were glitches, but as those glitches appeared I told myself that I have to become more comfortable with the features and controls of the software; the technical end has to be polished up a bit; and the program itself needs some improvements. (It would be much easier if the participant questions would come up in a font someone over the age of 20 can read.)

I believe we are ushering in a new era of Torah learning. We are creating an environment, not only where people can hear words of Torah and even see their teachers, but where everyone can join the conversation of Torah and make their contribution.

Thanks to my friends Rabbi Refael Butler, Ricky Magder and Afikim for giving me this wonderful opportunity. Let’s do it again!

YH

Friday, August 08, 2008

An Exciting New Initiative

There is nothing I love more than being part of initiatives that bring Jews together.

The Internet is a tool, that when used correctly, can do just that. The good people at Afikim have put together a system wherein thousand of Jews can interact and study Torah together. This Sunday, Tisha B’Av, I will have the privilege of being part of a beta seminar which you too can tune in to. Scroll down and join the crowd!

http://afikimfoundation.org/email/tishabav/index.html

Project Sinai is beta testing their new and exciting technology that will allow us to deliver regular live and fully interactive classes that allow you the viewer to participate in the class with me directly.

Note that not all the links on Project Sinai are active as of yet.

Thanks for participating with us.  We look forward to your feedback. 

Friday, July 11, 2008

In Honor of Henna Gittels Wedding

There is no greater nachas then when your children not only listen and appreciate your Torah but expand and improve upon it. In this essay I present my son Rabbi Sender Haber of Norfolk VA. who spoke in honor of my daughter, Henna Gittel’s wedding, which took place in Jerusalem overlooking the Har HaBayit. It was not only an amazing view but an amazing spiritual experience. Thank G-d.

TO SEE FROM AFAR

Rabbi Sender Haber

There is a mountain in the Talpiyot neighborhood of Yerushalayim overlooking the Har Habayis and the Makom Hamikdosh. It was called, for many years, “The Hill of Evil Counsel”. This was the location of the summer home of Keifa where Jesus was allegedly sentenced to death. Much later, the British Mandate built a palace there as a residence for the governing rulers.

Most importantly, this was the place where 3,683 years ago Avraham Avinu stopped on the third day of his journey to sacrifice his son Yitzchak. He tied up the donkey and left his servants Yishmael and Eliezer behind, as he continued up to Yerushalayim with Yitzchak. Rashi explains that it was at this spot that the test truly began. The Akeidah ceased to be an abstract concept and became a reality. The Torah records that Avraham stood there and “saw the place [of the Kodesh Hakodoshim] from afar”. The Medrash writes that Avraham Avinu saw the Shechina, the divine presence, as he caught his first glimpse of Har Habayis.

Last week, my sister got married on that exact same mountain high above Yerushalyim overlooking the Makom Hamikdosh.

Under the chupa my father explained that when Avraham gazed at the Beis Hamikdosh before making the last part of journey he saw the Shechina in a way that it can only be seen from afar. Like many things in life, when we look at the Shechina and the actions of Hashem from up close they are not always clear, but when we see them from afar we are able to see a broader, more understandable picture.

It was specifically from far away that Avraham was able to see the Shechina and it was in this way that Avraham Avinu drew strength to continue on his journey. By looking at the big picture, he realized that by overcoming his own overwhelming trait of Chessed, by overriding his own perception of right and of wrong, he could pass a test that would impact the world as we know it and affect all of his children and grandchildren for thousands of years.

Human nature is to judge good and bad, possible and impossible by the way we see it up close as it is happening. Hashem doesn’t see things that way. Hashem plans for our greater good, he looks at the big picture.

When something tough is going on it is hard to see the silver lining. Nachum ish Gamzu was able to say ‘Gam zu Letovah’ or ‘this too is good’ but most people will find it easier to follow Rebbe Akiva’s model of taking a step back and realizing that ‘Everything that Hashem does is for an ultimate good’.

In Parshas Chukas, the Jews in the desert complained to Moshe (again) and were subsequently attacked by snakes. People were dying and Hashem commanded him to put a copper snake on on a stick. If someone was bitten and looked at the snake, they would live.

The Mishna finds this incredible: Can a snake make someone live or die? After all, they were dying because of their lack of gratitude and their constant complaining; the snakes were just the messenger. The Mishna clarifies that, indeed, it was not the snake that caused life or death: if a Jew turned to Hashem and placed his hope in Hashem he would live; if he did not, he would die.

The commentaries ask the obvious question: Why put the snake on the stick at all? Why didn’t Moshe just instruct the Jews to put their faith in Hashem?

The Nefesh Hachayim writes, based on the Ramban, that this was an exercise in faith. The nature of a person who is dying of a snake bite is to become completely consumed by the issue at hand. Everywhere he looks he sees snakes, he dreams of snakes and he thinks about snakes constantly. He cannot think of anything other than the snake.

Sometimes something happens in our lives and we become obsessed and think only about it, to the exclusion of anything else in our lives.

The problem with the Jews’ in the desert was that they didn’t look at the big picture. They forgot that there were coming from the worst place in the world and going to the best place in the world; they only saw their momentary pain could not stop complaining about the lack of food.

Moshe wanted to teach the people to realize that the uppermost issue on a person’s mind is not necessarily the most important one. He told the people dying of snake bites to stare at the snake, look it straight in the eye, and say “it is not the snake that decides whether I will live or die; it is Hashem”.

When we are confronted with a situation and we cannot get past our initial justified feelings of hatred or of despair, we need to force ourselves to see the big picture.

Shalom means peace, but it also means perfection. After Davening and speaking to Hashem about our many needs, we take three steps back and realize that ultimately there is a bigger picture. He who makes everything perfect on high can also make every perfect for us and for all of the Jewish people.

Hashem sits on high, yet He lowers himself to watch and look out for every person and every creation in the heavens and the earth.

In the same way, we need to develop the ability to look at all the little things – to sweat the small stuff. At the same time we need to be able to take three steps back and, like Avraham, gaze from afar and see the Shechina.

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

My New Book!

Exciting News! We are very proud to announce that my new book “Sefiros” is at the printer and it will be released next week!

Given my general obsession with finding new tools for spiritual enhancement, the counting of the Omer between Pesach and Shavuos was a natural fertile territory.

Even at its simplest historical level, during these 49 days the People of Israel needed to transform their mentality from slavery to freedom. They had to stop being ordinary and start being kingly. They had only a short time to get ready to become a light to the nation and a moral example to all. These forty nine days became the key to what it means to be a Jew.

We can take advantage of this dynamic energy every year. The Kabbalists helped by teaching us how during each one of the forty-nine days we receive a specific energy through one of the sub-categories of the Sefiros.

Together with my colleague here at TorahLab, Rabbi David Sedley, we discussed, expounded, argued and analyzed every sefirah and sub sefirah and tried to figure out what it means in terms of practical deeds for the day.
Call someone you don’t like calling; dress a bit more modestly; do something for your community school etc. etc. The book was beautifully designed in sefirah multi-color by our own very talented Daniella.

By keeping the 49 day program, by the time Shavuos comes around we should be ready to accept what it means to behave like a Jew.

Sefiros is published by TorahLab and will be distributed in the United States by Judaica Press. It is available at http://www.torahlab.org for an introductory price of $19.95.

We think it is the perfect Pesach present for anyone who wants to experience the spirituality of this awesome time of year.

So, if you are interested in understanding accessing and utilizing the awesome days we are about to approach, please order your copy of Sefiros today.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Jerusalem Needs Help

I’m just making the final rounds Erev Purim to try to help some very worthy and needy families here in Yerushalayim. I bless you with all the wonderful brochos of the Torah. Shalom, gezunt, parnosa, nachas!

As Purim approaches I have been receiving desperate calls from families that just can’t make it on their own. In years past your contribution has made a real difference to them and their children.

All funds raised will be distributed on Purim day to hard working, honest people that I know personally. None of your charity money will go into overhead expenses. We absorb the cost of processing credit cards so whatever amount you give goes directly to help someone in need. Making your contribution in advance of Purim allows me to distribute the funds more efficiently. Please help me help these families. Please make your contribution now.

This is a wonderful opportunity to fulfill the Mitzvah of Matanot L’Evyonim.

Rabbi Yaacov Haber

To contribute online: click http://www.torahlab.org/tzedaka. To email a contribution, yhaber@torahlab.org.

To call: (VOIP) 212 561 5131 or + 972 2 644 7308. 

To shmooze with Rabbi Haber: Dial + 972 52 539 5216 (Israel is 6 hours ahead of the United States).

Monday, March 03, 2008

I Hit the Kid! part 2

Everyone is asking for the end of the story.

Friday afternoon, right before Shabbos the kids ran downstairs to my study to tell me ‘the boy is here - the boy is here’.

I came upstairs to find my smiling little friend supported by crutches eager to meet me in perhaps a less engaging fashion. His father, who was standing beside him, explained that they just wanted to show me that ‘everything was okay - Toda La’El.’  He explained to me that I shouldn’t be alarmed by the crutches, the doctor just wanted to keep the pressure off his knee for a couple of days. He thanked me for the plate of candy I sent over the night before. He told me that they were so thrilled with the gift that they all put on Kipaot and together made a Brochah on the candy. It was a celebration of G-ds kindness to them.

He then shared with me a remarkable thing. He told me that from his window he watched his son run wildly down the steps to the street to catch his bus. As he watched the boy run, for the first time that he could remember, he found himself uttering a prayer. ‘Please Elokim - Shelo Tidros" (G-d! Make sure he doesn’t get hurt by a car!) Seconds later his son got hit by my car!

I told the father that I was so wondering what was happening in the Heavens that this boy merited such a miracle. Was it zchut avot? Was this child a future leader of the Jewish people ? Suddenly I understood. His father uttered a prayer.

Does a story ever end?

Yaacov Haber

Thursday, February 28, 2008

I Hit the Kid

Yesterday I experienced the worst moment of my life.

At about 7:55 AM I was driving at a normal speed peacefully down a street in Jerusalem, close to my home. I had driven this street a thousand times before. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a twelve-ish year old boy ran into the street to catch a bus on the other side. He ran right in front of my car.

I hit the boy!

This is not a mashal or a fictitious dramatization to introduce a dvar Torah – I hit the kid! Everyone’s worse nightmare just happened to me. My brakes screeched, I felt the impact, I heard a scream, and the boy went out of my sight. I was afraid what I would find as I got out of the car.

The boy was lying on the ground crying and shivering. He looked at me and said: ‘slichah’ (I’m sorry).

I didn’t know exactly what to do. As I pulled out my cell phone to call an ambulance a crowd of neighbors (my neighbors) gathered, cars stopped, Hatzoloh arrived, his mother arrived in her bathrobe and I was sitting on the ground trying to comfort the child. Within minutes an ambulance came and took Gilad to Hadassah Hospital.  All the judges of the block, including the boy’s mother concurred that I did nothing wrong and that the kid ran straight into traffic. The boy’s mother told me to go home; I left her my phone number and I couldn’t stop shaking.

If you have ever had a doubt that every child has his own angel watching over him, your doubt should end here. My colleague, Rabbi David Sedley, helped me find the mothers cell phone number. I was afraid to call because I was afraid of what I would hear. I called anyway.

“Please don’t worry”, the mother explained to me in Hebrew, “When he fell backward he fell onto his back pack so his head was protected and his neck wasn’t whip lashed. He has no breaks or fractures, no sprains and no cuts. He’s a bit shaken up but he should be fine by the evening and be able to go to school tomorrow. Thank you for comforting the child and telling him he wasn’t bad. Please don’t worry – we’ll be in touch.”

Last night I sent the kid a tray of candy and apparently I had a much more difficult time sleeping than Gilad did. But for the chesed of Hashem … who knows? This situation could have turned out so much worse. Boruch Hashem!

I’m racking my brains. Why did this happen to me? What is the message? What is G-d trying to teach me?

Maybe it’s this: Hitting a child with a car is a very real thing. That moment of impact flashes back into my mind every few minutes. But what about when we insult children? What about when parents or teachers say hurtful things to children that may stay with them for years? What about when parents and teachers do things wrong and shift the blame onto children?

Gilad went to school today but I woke up with a new awareness of the value of a human being. I realized that the more subtle impact of abuse can sometimes do more damage than a Mac truck. It can take far longer to get over. I resolved to drive even more carefully and be more careful with what I say. I will try to do something, even something small, to make sure that we are all more aware of the impact we can have on the delicate physical and spiritual makeup of our children.

Rabbi Yaacov Haber
yhaber@torahlab.org

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

My Friend Jerry Weisberg

“Behold! The dreamer is coming!”

 Since the time of Yaakov Avinu dreamers stood apart. Yosef dreamt and shared his dreams. His holy parents held him in prophetic esteem; his own brothers held him in disdain.  Some saw in him a leader of men with a new dream and a fresh horizon while others couldn’t tolerate change or were overcome with a crippling sense of jealousy.

 Twenty one years ago I was a kiruv worker in my home town of Buffalo, New York. We founded an organization called the Torah Center of Buffalo and little by little a community grew and people from all walks of life joined in.  At that time there was no name for my profession, except for Chabdnik – which didn’t describe me very well. I wasn’t affiliated with any group or movement. For me and the handful of others in my situation, there was no organization to turn to; no chevra to exchange ideas with and to help shoulder burdens; and no funding available from anywhere to help promote the changes in the Jewish people I prayed for everyday. The few of us that were doing community outreach suffered identity crises, loneliness and poverty. 

And then the phone rang. Deep in the middle of a snowy Buffalo winter I received a phone call. “This is Jerry Weisberg – I’m staying in the Red Roof Inn and I’d like to meet with you tonight”.  I didn’t know who Jerry Weisberg was or exactly what he wanted to talk about but following a hunch and a kiruv axiom to never say ‘no’ I found myself sitting across the table with him in an undersized motel room in Buffalo.  He came to help. He told me about Sanford Bernstien, about men and women across the country that were doing similar work to mine and about the possibility of some sort of convention that would bring Kiruv Professionals (this was the first time anyone ever called me a professional) together in one place to talk. As he described his search for men and women with a ‘fire in the belly’ I realized that it was Jerry who was on fire. As he spoke about bringing together people with a dream I realized that Jerry was the dreamer. 

We became friends. My loneliness ended as Jerry introduced me to people around the country. Jerry never missed an opportunity to help me. The Avichai Convention was a hit of historical proportions. There were attendees from the field that broke down in tears as they watched individuals become a community and kiruv become a respectable profession before their very eyes. At that convention outreach suddenly became an option alongside teaching and rabbinic positions. Together Jerry and I pulled together ten good men and with the backing of Avichai founded AJOP. The Association for Jewish Outreach Professionals still exists today, but that’s not what is really important. What is important is that today, Boruch Hashem, the mainstream Yeshivah world is involved in outreach activities on university campuses, in out of town synagogues, in youth groups and where ever G-d is found. Kiruv has become a profession and its workers have become professionals. People in kiruv are not as ignored, not as lonely, and not as poor as they used to be and to a large degree this is because of the dream of Jerry Weisberg. 

As it was with Yosef there were dissenters, jealousy and fear and they caused much pain. But Hashem’s will endured, outreach became a force and there are thousands of Baalei Teshuvah. Hashem chose His shaliach well.  Tonight is the Shloshim for Jerry and there is much to learn from this man. First of all, don’t be afraid to dream – twenty years will tell the story.  Second, if there is a cause you believe in don’t be afraid to give it everything you’ve got. Hashem will help you succeed.  And perhaps most important, be a good friend. Everyone needs a friend like Jerry. 

Yaacov Haber

Yerushalayim

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

We Need Heroes!

To make your Chanukah more meaningful this year we at TorahLab have worked very hard translating anew and annotating the Megillas Antiochus - The Scroll of Antiochus.  This ancient scroll which dates back to the first century B.C.E. is read on Chanukah in many Yemenite and Italian synagogues. It retells the story of the heroic Maccabees and brings to life one of the true lessons of Chanukah; the power of heroism in faith.

Please be our guest in downloading the scroll. Read it with your children and share it with your friends. May this wonderful story of the Jewish people cause your candles to burn brighter than they ever have before.

From My FOREWORD To The Scroll of Antiochus

Like the story of Esther, The Scroll of Antiochus is a story about heroes. In it we learn of individuals who, with their great dedication and conviction, were able to save the Jewish community in Israel, delay the destruction of Yerushalayim by 200 years, and topple the powerful Greek army. The sons of Mattisyahu, grandsons of Yochanan the Kohein Gadol, waged war against Antiochus and his governors and eventually succeeded in toppling the Greek forces.

On Chanukah we celebrate the miracle of quality over quantity. The Talmud (Shabbos 21b), emphasizes the miracle of the oil. After the Greek invasion and defilement of the Second Beis HaMikdash, the victorious Maccabees discovered only a small amount of pure olive oil, sealed with the distinctive seal of purity of the Kohein Gadol. Even though there was only enough oil to light the Menorah in the Beis HaMikdash for one day, the oil miraculously lasted for eight days. The codifiers of the Siddur, in the Al HaNissim prayer, emphasized the miracle of the armed rebellion which is also the subject of Megillas Antiochus.

The lesson of these two main stories is that a little bit of purity can go a very long way. It is not the quantity of the oil that matters; it is the quality of its purity.

The greatest developments in world history did not take place because of large armies or mega corporations. Change for the better is effected by individuals with courage and by heroes of faith. It is not the fire power of an army that wins the battle, but the purity, power and conviction of its cause.

This is the story of the Jewish people. “Not because you are larger than all the nations did God desire you and choose you, for you are the minority of the nations.” (Devarim 7:7). Our ability to be a ‘light unto the nations’ is in direct proportion to the purity of that light.

The scroll that we put before you in this short volume is an ancient historical account of the Chanukah story. The Scroll of Antiochus was originally written in Aramaic. Rabbi Saadia Gaon (ninth century) claimed that the earliest written copy of this scroll can be traced back to the period of Bais Hillel and Bais Shamai, Talmudic scholars who lived one hundred years before the destruction of the Second Beis HaMikdash; approximately 30 BCE. However, in his opinion, the scroll originated one hundred years before that and was originally written by the Maccabees themselves.

For generations it was the custom of communities in Italy and in Yemen to read the Scroll of Antiochus in the synagogue on Chanukah. (see thirteenth century Tosfos Rid; commentary on Talmud Bavli, Sukkah 42) . It is printed in many Siddurim, including Otzar HaTefillos.

The Maccabees, like the oil found in the Beis HaMikdash, were a small drop of purity amongst an enormous amount of contamination.

We need heroes in order to survive as a people. The story of Chanukah is a story of pure spiritual heroism. It is our hope that the republishing of this story with a new and modern translation will serve to inspire purity, integrity and the heroism which we so direly need.

Rabbi Yaacov Haber
Jerusalem
Rosh Chodesh Kislev 5768

Friday, October 19, 2007

Our Latest and Greatest! Rabeinu Yonah on Avos

TorahLab has just published the first ever translation of Rabbeinu Yonah’s commentary on Avos. The TorahLab team, headed by Rabbi David Sedley, has done a remarkable job at adding a significant contribution to Jewish literature and understanding.

A little about the book and its history.

“There were many great Torah authors and many styles of mussar. Not every author can speak to every soul; there are after all so many different types of souls. The exception to this is Rabbeinu Yonah Girondi (and specifically his book on teshuvah). His writings are appropriate to every Jew in every time.” (Rabbi Chaim of Velozhin as quoted by the Chofetz Chaim])

Rabbeinu Yonah came from Girona, in Catalonia. He lived in the thirteenth century, was a grandson and student of the Ramban and the teacher of the Rashba. He is mentioned several times in the commentary of the Tosafos on the Talmud, referred to there as Rabbi Yonah.

He was also considered the most prominent pupil of Rabbi Shlomoh Min HaHor who was the leader of the opponents of Rambam’s philosophical works. As such, he was one of the signers of the infamous ban proclaimed against the Moreh Nevuchim and the Sefer HaMadda in 1233. According to his pupil, Hillel of Verona, Rabbeinu Yonah felt that these editions were philosophically dangerous to the masses and was the instigator of the public burning of Maimonides’ writings by the church in 1233.

Nine years later, in 1242, twenty-four wagon-loads of the Talmud were burned by the church at the very same place where the philosophical writings of Rambam had been destroyed. Rabbeinu Yonah, realized that he made a mistake and publicly admitted in the synagogue of Montpellier that he had been wrong in all his acts against the works and fame of Maimonides.

In his repentance he vowed to travel to Eretz Yisroel and prostrate himself on the grave of the Rambam and implore his pardon in the presence of ten men for seven consecutive days. He left France with that intention, but was detained, first in Barcelona and later in Toledo. He remained in Toledo, and became one of the great Talmudical teachers of his time.

In all his lectures and in his writings he made a point of quoting from Rambam; always mentioning his name with great reverence. Rabbeinu Yonah’s sudden death from a rare disease was considered by many as a consequence of failure to fulfil his vow to journey to the grave of Rambam. He died in Toledo, Spain in November of 1263.

Rabbeinu Yonah wrote a number of works; it is surmised, to atone for his earlier attacks on Rambam and to emphasize his repentance. His Iggeres HaTeshuvah, Shaarei Teshuvah, and Sefer HaYirah are among the most popular ethical treatises in the Judaic library. The Shaarie Teshuvah first appeared in Fano (1505) with the Sefer HaYirah, while the Iggeres HaTeshuvah was first published in Cracow (1586). All have been reprinted many times, separately and together, as well as numerous extracts from them. Rabbeinu Yonah actually wrote many more treatises which were compiled together and published as Shaarei Tzedek; unfortunately most of these writings have been lost.

Rabbi Akiva Eiger commented that he was particularly moved by the mussar works of Rabbeinu Yonah because aside from being a great ethicist, Rabbeinu Yonah was one of the greatest Talmudic scholars of all time as well as a authority on Jewish law. Rabbi Akiva Eiger viewed Rabbeinu Yonah’s mussar comments as legally binding.

Rabbeinu Yonah on Pirkei Avos, presents this exact blend of his abilities. In contrast to the hundreds of commentaries on Pirkei Avos that use the text of Avos as a springboard for homiletic and ethical preaching, Rabbeinu Yonah explains the simple meaning of each Mishnah. This creates a new possibility for inspiration, where one is struck by the beauty and awesome timelessness of the words of the Sages.

We have a very limited number of copies of Rabbeinu Yonah on Pirkei Avos for sale. I strongly recommend you order yours from Torahlab today.

http://www.torahlab.org/store/index.php?act=viewProd&productId=601

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Sweet Dream

It’s always fun to read a story about yourself. This is a true story as it appears in a new Artscroll book called “Stories For the Jewish Heart” by Rabbi B. Pruzansky. 

I thought I would share it.

Sweet Dreams

One special, golden Shabbos lay ahead on the horizon like a bright little ball of light. Rabbi Yaakov Haber loved the yearly Shabboton that his kollel hosted for the Jews of Melbourne Australia, and as it approached, his anticipation mounted. He loved the opportunity to share this gift of Shabbos with the many Jews who had never experienced it—to watch them slowly unwrap this gift and marvel at its beauty. Each facet of it - candle-lighting, Kiddush, blessing the children, davening, zemiros—brought renewed wonder to their eyes, and often, tears of joy as well.

Indeed, Shabbos itself was enough to move their hearts. But to penetrate their minds, to arouse an understanding of the Torah’s truth and perfection - that was another task entirely. And that task fell to Rabbi Haber. This year, as in years past, he would choose one topic and explore different aspects of it in the six seminars he would give throughout Shabbos. It had to be just right - an inspiring topic, illuminating sources and a crystal clear presentation. He dared not squander this brief, wide-open window of opportunity to inspire the audience that would be sitting before him, their souls silently longing to be reconnected with Hashem.

In this particular year, Rabbi Haber chose the topic of kedusha - living a life of holiness - as his theme. As the date of the Shabbaton approached, he began to research the topic and prepare his material for the seminar. Gradually, however, a sense of frustration began to build in him. Certainly, kedushah was explored and expounded upon in many sources, but something crucial was missing. There was the kind of insight that would make a person nod his head and say, “Oh, I see.” And then there was the kind that is like a ray of light—penetrates a person’s being and illuminates everything within him. That was the kind of insight Rabbi Haber needed to find, and he doggedly pursued it day after day.

Finally, time had nearly run out. It was the Shabbos before the Shabbaton, and he still hadn’t found what he was seeking. Inside him, he churned with anxiety, like an actor who had failed to learn his lines and was now awaiting his cue to step onto the stage. What would he have to offer these people who had come to be inspired by him?

He knew that this problem would not let him to sleep. He needed help, and he sought it. Before he went to bed that night, he unburdened his heart to Hashem, begging Him to please give him the wisdom and understanding to properly understand the meaning of kedusah. Having removed the load from his own shoulders, he finally felt he could relax. For the first time in several nights, he went right to sleep.

There, in the mysterious realm of dreams, he met an old man whose face was framed by a long, silky white beard. “What is wrong?” he gently asked.

Rabbi Haber explained that he was scheduled to give a seminar next week on kedusha, and yet, despite his diligent efforts, he still did not fully grasp the concept. He was terribly worried that his seminar would not be successful, and his chance to inspire all of these fellow Jews would be lost.

“Don’t worry,” the old rabbi reassured him. “I will help you. I will teach you all that you need to know.”

The rabbi began to expound upon kedusha. He patiently explained to his student six profound aspects of the topic, each with complete clarity.

When Rabbi Haber awoke the next morning, he nearly bounded from his bed. His entire being was charged with joy. Hashem had answered his tefillah, depositing the wisdom he longed for directly into his head. Except - what was it the rabbi had told him? The intricately woven threads of logic began to unravel in his hands and—like the dream itself—to dissipate into thin air. The more he tried to grasp the shreds of what remained, the farther away they receded.

He left for Shacharis. It was his custom as he entered the shul to take a sefer from the bookcase to keep with him during davening. In the time between Torah readings, he would open it and learn. On this morning, the sefer he happened to choose was called “Nesivos Sholom,” which was written by Rav Shalom Noach Berzovsky, the renowned Slonimer Rebbe.

The davening progressed, and the time came when there was a brief lull. Rabbi Haber opened the sefer like someone opening a letter, eager to find out what it has to say. To his amazement, the topic before him was none other than kedusha. As he scanned the words before his eyes, he felt a shock of recognition. This was it - the elusive dream, the six intricate explanations that had flooded him with joy and then receded beyond reach. They were here, in this sefer that was written by the Slonimer Rebbe and placed in his hand by Hashem Himself.

Rabbi Haber’s seminar was a tremendous success. Through his beautiful presentation, the audience had their eyes open to the soaring insights of the Slominer Rebbe and the complex subject of kedushah. But the most remarkable part of the whole event, in Rabbi Haber’s eyes, was Hashem’s direct answer to his tefillah.

Some time later, Rabbi Haber traveled to Eretz Yisrael, and high on his agenda was a visit to the holy Slonimer Rebbe whose Torah had illuminated his eyes. In fact, the Rebbe had already heard the story of Rabbi Haber’s dream from one of his chassidim who had visited Melbourne. He was eager to meet Rabbi Haber, and so a meeting was set.

“Tell me all the details of your dream,” the Rebbe urged when Rabbi Haber arrived at their meeting.

Rabbi Haber repeated everything he remembered, and as he spoke, a great smile spread across the Rebbe’s face.

“When I wrote the sefer *Nesivos Shalom,* I expended all of my energy to produce a fine work,” the Rebbe explained. “I had considered whether or not I should get a haskamah (a letter of endorsement). In the end I decided not to pursue it because I realized that I wouldn’t be able to find someone who was studying the topics in my sefer in as much depth as I had gone. But I have always felt distress that I did not get the customary haskamah. Now you have told me about your dream, and I see that Shomayim has chosen to answer your tefillah with my insights into kedusha. I see that Shomayim has agreed to the truth of my insights, and you have relieved me of all of my worries. Thank you so much.

As he left his meeting with this holy Jew, enveloped by his warmth and inspired by his ways, Rabbi Haber knew he had now completed his study of kedushah.

It sounds like a story of the Gedolim of old, but this is a miracle that happened in our own times. It reaffirms our belief that Hashem can answer any prayer at any time.