Rabbi Zalmanov's Blog

Yesterday’s horrifying events at a Jerusalem Yeshivah — where 8 students were murdered in cold blood and scores injured — brought to mind a similar, no less dreadful event, nearly 52 years ago.

The state of Israel was in its infancy, and the village of Kefar Chabad was also in its early stages of development. In a school created for immigrant and refugee children, a class was beginning Maariv, the evening prayer. Suddenly a group of terrorists burst though the door and began spraying bullets at the room’s occupants. Five students and a teacher died that night, their prayer books soaked in their own blood.

Understandably, residents of the village were shell shocked. Unsure of how to proceed, they turned to the Lubavitcher Rebbe for guidance, and four days following the horrors a telegram arrived from New York. The entire village gathered in the synagogue to hear the Rebbe’s encouraging words.

The telegram contained a three word sentence: “Behemshech Habinyan Tinacheimu” (“by continuing to build, you will be comforted”). The Rebbe’s message was clear; the attack should not lead to decreased activity in the development of Kefar Chabad. Rather it should be the impetus for continued growth.

Quite by Divine Providence, my earlier post focused on the persevering quality of the Jewish people; on how, despite all that occurs, Jerusalem and the entire Land of Israel is continuously being developed and built.

Given yesterday’s attack on innocent Yeshivah students, I will take that notion one step further.

"Building" and "construction" can also be used to describe one's spiritual growth. When we do a Mitzvah, we strengthen our connection with G-d, and we build our relationship with Him. The more we do, the stronger the bond.

The Jewish response to yesterday’s attack should be one of growth. Performing a Mitzvah in memory of the deceased, praying in honor of the wounded, and generally going about our lives the way G-d expects us to, is how we show the world that we will not be negatively affected by violence. With every additional good deed we perform, the more evident this becomes.

We answer darkness with light; and the more light we bring to the world, the less darkness there will be to impede our growth. And by continuously growing, we will truly be comforted.

Chanie and I recently returned from a trip to Israel. Our trip was unique in that we both haven’t been to the Holy Land in nearly seven years, and this was our first trip there together.

Both of us had spent a number of years in Israel in the past, so in planning this trip we decided that we would not do any touring. Instead, we’d spend most of our time in Jerusalem. The primary purpose of this trip was for a relative’s wedding, which was held in Kefar Chabad, a small town outside of Tel Aviv. Aside for the wedding, we remained in Jerusalem for our entire stay.

Our days began with a trek to the Western Wall for Shacharit, the morning prayers. On the return trip, we would stop at a café or bagel shop for brunch. We generally spent the remainder of our days strolling through the city, taking in the sites and sounds of the Jewish capital’s daily routine.

Wherever we went, people were going about their business as usual. The outdoor marketplaces and malls are as busy as ever, and the economy is doing quite well. Cranes and scaffolding are visible from everywhere, as construction projects are going up all around Jerusalem, as well as other parts of the country. Luxury residences, hotels, and shopping malls are just some of the current projects set to be completed in the near future.

To be sure, the cloud of terrorism still hovers over all this. There are daily reports of Kassam rockets shelling the town of Sderot and other cities neighboring Gaza. And the constant talk of dividing the city of Jerusalem yet again doesn’t add much encouragement either. But our Israeli brethren are aware that curbing their daily activities is to give the terrorists the victory they so desire. Life in Israel goes on because that is what the Jewish people do best; we persevere.

The Jewish people have lived through persecution and threats of extinction as long as we’ve been a people. This has never impeded upon our drive to exist. We have always remained steadfast in our beliefs, and by continuing to do so, we are guaranteed to outlive all who wish us harm.

I encourage everyone to make a trip to Israel, and experience for yourselves the wonderful land G-d has given to the Jewish people as our eternal inheritance.

72 countries, 47 states, 5 days and 3,000 black hats. One word comes to mind: Adjectives.

That’s right; every adjective used to describe an event of this magnitude can be used, but will never accurately capture the experience.

I am referring to the 25th International Conference of Chabad-Lubavitch Emissaries, held last week in New York City.

Five days with nearly 3,000 colleagues from around the globe. Five days spent learning, sharing, “Farbrenging,” and praying together.

Walking the streets of the Chabad neighborhood in Brooklyn, NY, last week, one can easily encounter an acquaintance from as nearby as Kentucky or Iowa, to as distant as Laos or Congo. We’ve all come together for an extended weekend to pay tribute to our revered leader, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, of righteous memory, and to gain inspiration from one another. On Friday morning we all visited the Rebbe’s burial place in Queens, NY, and petitioned that he intercede before G-d on behalf of our respective communities around the world.

Many resolutions and initiatives are announced throughout the conference, including a 40th year commemoration of the Rebbe’s Tefillin campaign, started during Israel’s Six-Day War in 1967, encouraging every Jewish male to don Tefillin.

But, the highlight of the entire week was on Sunday evening, at the concluding banquet held and New York’s Pier 94 on the Hudson River. No ballroom in the entire NY metro area was large enough to contain the 3,000 “Shluchim” and an additional 1,000 supporters and guests. The pier was transformed into an enormous yet lavish hall, and the energy in the room was self-evident.

The gathering was addressed by, among others, Mr. Lev Leviev, who is the wealthiest person in Israel, and a staunch financial supporter of Chabad activities in the former Soviet Union. He shared his experiences with Chabad as a child growing up in Uzbekistan, and his encounters with the Rebbe as a fledgling businessman in the early 1980’s.

Culminating the evening was the traditional roll-call. The chairman of the conference read the names of all the states and countries with a permanent Chabad presence, accompanied by video images of activities in each location. He also announced the opening of Chabad centers in Wyoming, South Korea, Serbia and the Dominican Republic. The roll-call was followed by music and spontaneous dancing throughout the ballroom; 4,000 people placing their arms on each other’s shoulders and dancing with joy!

Now, try describing all that, and more, in one word...

The group photo in front of Chabad-Lubavitch World Headquarters

A personal tragedy which befalls a member of a community is tantamount to a communal tragedy. The traditional blessing of consolation offered to mourners is comprised of the statement “May the L-rd comfort you, along with all who mourn for Zion and Jerusalem.”

The destruction of Jerusalem, nearly 2,000 years ago, was mourned by all of Israel equally. And, today, the entire Jewish nation still yearns for the rebuilding of our holiest site and the reunification of our people.

When offering condolences to a grieving friend, we convey our feelings of shared grief; just as when the Temple was destroyed all of the people mourned equally, and everyone hoped for a better day.

But, in addition to simply sharing in our fellow’s pain, and the constant reminder that the community cries along with them, we must not lose sight of what tradition believes about the life after life.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe, of righteous memory, was once approached by a father whose only child had suddenly passed away. The man cried to the Rebbe, saying that he felt that his life was now purposeless, and that he took no comfort in any of his earthly belongings.

The Rebbe asked him to consider the following scenario. Imagine your son had traveled overseas and he had absolutely no way of communicating with you. The only thing you can do for him is send care packages every so often. Would you be content knowing that your son is happy with his current situation?

Of course, responded the father. While it isn’t ideal, as long as I know that my son is happy and I can make his life easier, I would be satisfied.

Jewish tradition enumerates various activities one can do for a departed loved one. Whether it is reciting specific prayers, or performing a Mitzvah in their memory, we are given the opportunity to send packages and impart that we care for them. It is also a reminder to ourselves, that although a family member has passed on, our relationship has not ended.

How much more so – considering that a personal tragedy is in fact communal – when the community comes together and performs Mitzvahs and good deeds in one’s memory. We all show that we care. And, better yet, in their current “life,” they appreciate the “packages” we send them, as it keeps them going as well.

But, ultimately, we hope and pray for the day when there will no longer be reason to grieve; a time when the world will be utterly and obviously good.

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Did you know that the day we celebrate as Rosh Hashanah does not commemorate the creation of the universe?

According to the Talmud, the world was created on the 25th of Elul, and Rosh Hashanah – the 1st of Tishrei – was Friday, the sixth day of creation. And, as the Torah describes, the final creature that G-d created on the sixth day was mankind, Adam and Eve.

Throughout the Talmud and Kaballah much emphasis is placed on the fact that the world was not considered “complete” until humans were created. The purpose of creation was for man to be created. It is for this reason that Rosh Hashanah is considered the beginning of the world, because before man was created, the world’s existence was purposeless.

True, all of creation —including the skies and the seas, plants and trees, animals and insects— existed before man. But with the arrival of Adam and Eve the world began to function.

Humans are the highest level of G-d’s creatures. The lowest being the inanimate, one step up is vegetation, and the third level is the animal kingdom. Humans are greater than all these because we maintain a level of intellect far beyond that of animals, which we utilize not merely for survival and self-satisfying purposes.

G-d created man to fulfill His commandments, which requires this unique intellect gifted to man. Therefore until man was created, the purpose of creation was not yet fulfilled, and, in G-d’s eyes, creation itself was not yet complete.

Although the world was full, complete with its natural beauty and efficiency, it lacked quality. The world required a being whose life represented a purpose greater than itself.

However, although human beings are the essential purpose in creation, this should not be a cause of conceit and arrogance. In fact, the Talmud notes that if you ever feel a bit too sure of yourself and your accomplishments, remember that even the smallest of all insects was created prior to you.

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Allow me to begin with a very audacious statement: One of the most detrimental entities to the existence of the Jewish people is embodied in the modern day “Hebrew School.”

I’ve heard more than once, either in jest or even in partial seriousness, parents saying “I dreaded Hebrew School as a child, and my children will now have to live through it as well.” Sounds like these parents are very dedicated to their children’s Jewish education. For, if not, what other logic can cause them to coerce an unwilling child to endure the same dread that they felt as children?

But, of course, any sensible person will see right through this flawed façade. And I therefore take the liberty to share with you three reasons that Hebrew Schools do more damage than good to Jewish children:

a) Hebrew Schools, while their original intent and purpose was to supplement children’s Jewish education, have evolved into a technique for congregations to force their families to maintain membership. The strategy is that by refusing to “Bar Mitzvah” a child if they do not attend Hebrew School —and what caring Jewish parent in their right mind doesn’t want their child to be Bar/Bat Mitzvahed— you’ve created a captive membership. In addition to forced membership, and exorbitant fees associated therein, surely playing a role the recent steep drop in “Bar/Bat Mitzvah rates,” it also causes parents of post-Bar Mitzvah children to completely disassociate themselves with Judaism after Hebrew School graduation.

b) The Jewish education level at most Hebrew Schools are extremely substandard, and are increasingly getting worse. In some instances, the Jewish part of Hebrew School has been completely overhauled to consist of little Judaism and religion, and the schools have transformed our rich history and heritage to a mere “culture.” And this leads into my third point:

c) Hebrew Schools have become a justified substitute for an authentic Jewish education at a Day School. Even the best Hebrew Schools —and the definition of “best” itself is controversial— do not come near to providing the level of education of an established Jewish Day School. In fact, some Day Schools excel in their general studies over local publicly funded schools.

The solution is not for all Hebrew Schools to be put out of business. After all, something is better than nothing at all. And there are definitely steps that can be taken towards improving the existing Hebrew School structure (e.g. congregations allowing for Hebrew School membership only, parents encouraging an interest in Judaism outside of school or synagogue settings, etc.).

However, in the larger scope of things, the only long term remedy is the establishment of Day Schools throughout our communities. Schools that focus not simply on “teaching” Judaism, but encouraging students to live and experience an authentic Jewish life.

It’s been three full days since the terrible massacre at Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University in Blacksburg, VA. During this time, we’ve learned the identity of the murderer and seen his so-called “manifesto,” witnessed a university, and a nation, mourn, heard of one individual’s bravery, and have been inundated with calls to begin the “healing.”

We are also being exposed to claims that this could have been avoided. Some believe that more gun control could have prevented this carnage, while others believe that less gun control would have done the trick. There is also the angle that the university is to blame by their lack of response after the initial stage of the massacre. And, of course, if only we would have “seen the signs” of what this cold-blooded murderer was capable of, or once the signs were in fact seen, done something about them, then April 16, 2007, would be just another ordinary day on our calendars.

One point, however, that may be overlooked is that this event was carried out by pure and unadulterated evil. We live in a world that “evil” and “wickedness” constantly rear their ugly heads. We witnessed it in Nazi Germany, on 9/11, and this week at Virginia Tech.

When seeking ways to prevent these types of events from recurring, we are faced with the enormous task of overriding “evil” by challenging it with forces of goodness. A world that is all good will not tolerate the wicked. A world with an agenda of kindness will never breed evil. A person living in a world that is all good will always be driven to do more good.

The world, as G-d created it and as we know it, is a work in progress. G-d created the world and placed us within it to work towards perfection. This is man’s mission. To make a world which is lacking into a place that G-d can consider home.

To be sure, the world will not change overnight, and we will encounter obstacles throughout our journey. However, we can make a difference one good deed at a time.

When lighting the smallest flame in a dark room, the darkness immediately begins to dissipate. And the greater the light, the less darkness there will be. The more goodness we bring to the world, the further we expel evil. With everyone doing their part in making the world a place of goodness of kindness, our universe will ultimately be completely good, the way G-d intended for it to be.

The primary purpose of the Passover Seder is to ensure that the story of the Jewish people’s exodus from Egypt is transmitted to the next generation. The Torah tells us that we must relay the story of the exodus to our children. The customary ‘four questions’ emphasize this purpose; and are traditionally ‘asked’ at the beginning of the Seder, to ensure that the children are still awake, and involved.

As with everything in Judaism, the observance of Passover is a microcosm of our religion in general. Most of our Jewish life is dedicated to ‘the future’ – our children. For some, the sole reason for maintaining membership at their synagogue or temple is for the children. For others, it is the Shabbat dinner which the family celebrates as long as the kids are still young. And still others, the only purpose in associating themselves with our ancestors' heritage is for our offspring to ‘know where they came from.’

To be sure, this may seem hypocritical. And when the child gets a bit older, he or she will see through the ostensible charade being put on for their sake. They may even rebel, claiming that “you [the parent] don’t believe in it yourself, why are you forcing me to suffer through it?”

But, the solution to this is not to cease caring for our children’s Jewish education. Nor is it to change our own behavior overnight. The vibes the child should be getting from us should reflect true commitment. Even if one isn’t completely observant, it should not negate their children receiving a proper Jewish education. And by education, I mean that the child learns to appreciate religion as something that they can relate to. If a child sees that the parents are committed, he or she will feel more comfortable with their own Judaism.

Teaching by example is the highest form of education. By observing Passover, or any other Jewish observance, with the intent of the children benefiting, we ourselves will also begin feeling a higher sense of commitment. When children experience an authentic feeling towards ‘Yiddishkeit,’ the feeling should boomerang and rub off on the parents. So, when the time comes and our children are no longer home, we will continue with the Shabbat observance, because it is meaningful to us as well.
 
To take this a step further:

When referring to children, I do not necessarily mean to limit ‘education’ to biological minors. Sometimes one who is a ‘child’ Jewishly, also requires that extra encouragement from an acquaintance. Just because someone is middle-aged, does not imply that they are beyond being educated. And just because your own observance is not perfect, does not suggest that you cannot teach others. You can teach what you know. And when you learn more, pass that along too.

And, similar to the effect educating children can have, by teaching and showing an example for ‘spiritual’ minors, we too will benefit and grow in our own relationship with G-d.

“Here we go again,” you must be thinking. “An orthodox rabbi is once more writing about assimilation. He’s probably about to say that in order to combat it, I must marry a Jew and have many children. They must also be given a strictly Jewish education.”

While all of these concepts have played central roles in the Jewish nation’s continuity throughout history, there is more to the solution than simply restoring them. There is a lot more to our survival than making a drastic change in one’s life overnight.

Being born into a strictly observant family may seem to have its advantages, as far as religion goes. Living as a religious Jew as far back as one can recall surely makes it a lot easier to observe the Torah. However, behaving a certain way for any amount of time can become extremely monotonous, even for the most ultra-orthodox individual.

Imagine being employed at a firm with absolutely no opportunity for growth. Imagine yourself filling the same position, day-in-day-out, for thirty years without a change in schedule or style. Sure, you may convince yourself that as long as the pay is decent and arrives on time, you can stick it out. But is that what you consider a fulfilling lifestyle?

Judaism is all about growth.

G-d has given the Jewish people 613 commandments in His Torah. Each of these 613 Mitzvahs is another conduit through which we can better our relationship with G-d. Just because we do not completely adhere to every single one, does not mean that the Mitzvahs we do comply with are not meaningful.

Performing a certain Mitzvah, or Mitzvahs, long enough will eventually turn it into a second nature, and becomes effortless. When we get too used to something, it is time to challenge ourselves with something new. Whether it is related to Shabbat, kosher, study or prayer, there is always room for improvement, and if we stay at a plateau, we are bound to slip.

Assimilation is a result of apathy. Apathy is a result of boredom. If Judaism were to be exciting, as it is truly intended to be, we would witness a steep drop in assimilation.

Combating assimilation is achieved by being proactive in our Jewish life. By finding that area in which we can do better and resolving to challenge ourselves, we will be doing the greatest favor for us, our children, and the Jewish nation at large.

In the summer of 1963, a group of college students from the United Kingdom visited the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory, and presented him with a number of questions. Their questions were primarily philosophical, and the students’ agenda was to discern the Rebbe’s opinion on various subjects.

Among their inquiries, they asked the Rebbe what he felt was the secret to the Jewish people keeping together and surviving for three thousand years.

The Rebbe’s answer was very straightforward: it is the Torah and Mitzvahs that have sustained us all these years. They have not changed, and have therefore enabled us, by following G-d’s precepts, to persevere as well.

To many, this statement may, mistakenly, sound like the stereotypical Orthodox mantra: G-d gave us laws, and if we don’t follow those rules we’re doomed. However, upon further reflection, when actually considering these words, we discover that not only has it been true for the Jews throughout history, but it is in fact true and prevalent today as well.

With the baseball season approaching, let us use the national pastime as a metaphor. Imagine if George Steinbrenner (yes, I’m a New Yorker…) decided one day that he’s changing the layout of Yankee Stadium. From this point on, in order to enhance his players’ ability to score, he’s reducing the distance between bases from 90 feet to 75 feet. One can imagine the uproar this would cause (not to mention the animosity it would add to the already detested Yankees).

But what’s wrong with that? Mr. Steinbrenner hasn’t changed the game much. He hasn’t reduced the amount of bases, or the three-strikes-and-you’re-out rule. All he did was make it easier for his players, as well as visiting players, to run the bases. The obvious answer is that in order for his team to be part of Major League Baseball, and for them to be allowed to compete with other teams, they must follow the strict guidelines that have been part of the game for so many years.

If they deviate, they may still consider themselves baseball players, but they will find themselves outside of the mainstream. And once that happens, there’s nothing stopping them from changing more rules. Perhaps beginning with having 4-inning games, then 5-men lineups, until one day they may play by a time clock, divided to four periods; use a larger ball filled with air; wear jerseys and shorts; and instead of the goal being to hit the ball out of the park, their new objective will be to throw the ball through a hoop.

Impossible. Right?

The Jewish nation is no different. In order for us to survive, we must stick to what works. For 3,000 years the Torah and Mitzvahs have kept us going; additions, subtractions, or any changes, can only impair our existence as a people.

Of course, the correct approach to Judaism is not that of all-or-nothing. G-d appreciates every Mitzvah we perform, regardless of those we don’t yet do. The challenge is to not be satisfied by what we’ve already accomplished. When behaving a certain way long enough, it becomes second nature and it is time to move on; it is time to challenge ourselves once again; time to see what more we can achieve. What was yesterday’s great accomplishment, is today’s status quo.

Rosh Hashanah marks the beginning of the Jewish New Year, when the fate of all Jews is inscribed for the coming year. It is closely followed by Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, during which we pray that all of our sins of the previous year be forgiven. These days have come to be known as the High Holidays.

Preceding the High Holidays is the month of Elul, the final month of the Hebrew calendar. During Elul, we take the time to reflect on all our deeds and misdeeds of the past year. We ask G-d to judge us favorably and grant us a good and sweet year.

The relationship between the Jewish people and G-d is often compared to that of a human king and his constituency. On an ordinary day, the king is in his palace, surrounded by high ranking ministers and guards. In order to gain an audience with the king, one must go through many levels of bureaucracy and protocol before even being allowed to step foot in the king’s palace, let alone meet with him personally.

Occasionally, however, the king goes for a tour of the outskirts of his country, roaming the fields and villages, meeting with the common folk residing in the far out regions of his land. It is then that anyone wishing to meet with the king can simply approach him and make a request. Gone are all the formalities and red tape. All one needs to get the king’s attention, is the courage to approach the king and make oneself known.

After such a wonderful encounter with the king, the simple people from the countryside follow the king back to the capital, to reap the benefits of their meeting, and to appreciate the glory of the great king.

Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the founder of the Chabad movement, compared the month of Elul to that time, when the king is in the “field.” Certainly, during the rest of the year everyone has the ability to connect with G-d through prayer, study, and otherwise. Yet it is during this month that G-d is particularly accessible, and available to listen to every single Jew’s wishes.

We, however, must make the first move. G-d is there, but we must seize the opportunity and make ourselves known. We must remind G-d that we care, and we request that the coming year be a year of blessing and happiness. We assure G-d that the coming year, on our part, will be a better year. It will be a year of greater observance and a year of more diligence in our Jewish behavior. We then anticipate that G-d reciprocate, just as the human king would, and grant that all our wishes come true.

At that point, we all follow G-d back to the “palace,” to the High Holidays when we solemnly recognize G-d’s sovereignty, and truly appreciate G-d’s greatness.

With the holiday of Passover approaching, I am often reminded of the story of a certain Jewish doctor who makes a great medical discovery for which the Queen of England has decided to grant him knighthood.

At the ceremony, as the Queen touches his shoulders with the sword, he is supposed to recite an ancient Celtic blessing. However, for all his medical genius, the doctor cannot seem to memorize the required Celtic words. On the day of his investiture, the nervous doctor waits his turn as several others are being knighted before him. As he listens to one after another correctly recite the Celtic blessing, he grows more and more nervous.

Finally, when he kneels before the Queen and she taps his shoulders with the sword, the good doctor completely forgets the Celtic words, and substitutes the first foreign words that pop into his head: “Ma Nishtahnah Ha’Lailah Ha’Zeh Mikol Ha’Leilot.”

The Queen, clearly confused, looked to the gathered crowd, and says, “Why is this Knight different from all the other Knights?”

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Passover is the most celebrated holiday by Jews today. For many of us, our most vivid childhood memories are of the Seder night. The four questions are etched into our collective minds and hearts.

What is it about the Seder night that makes such a powerful and unforgettable impression on the minds and hearts of our children? To answer this question, we must analyze what exactly happens at the Seder.

I believe that we can identify three major themes that comprise the totality of the Seder.

1. Faith - the Matzah that we eat is called Michla D’mihemnuta = food of faith. According to our sages, it was in the merit of our forefathers’ unwavering faith in G-d that they were redeemed from Egypt. Though they were subjected to backbreaking labor and total humiliation, they never doubted G-d’s promise of redemption. At the Seder we remember their faith and attempt to strengthen and nurture our faith in G-d as well.

2. Education - the Torah mentions a number of times that the story of the Exodus should be told to the children. “When your child asks… You shall tell your child…”. There is a Torah obligation for us to remember the Exodus from Egypt every single day. However, while all year long it is adequate to remember this oneself, on Passover night there is the special obligation of telling this story to our children. This is one major difference between the Mitzvah of recounting the Exodus from Egypt on Passover night as opposed to all year long. The Seder night is when we relay our heritage to the next generation, perpetuating the unbroken chain of tradition that extends back all the way to Moses at Mount Sinai.

(It must be noted, however, that what we are teaching to our children on the Seder night is primarily related to faith, and belief in G-d and His Torah. The general theme of Jewish education is addressed on the holiday of Shavuot, when G-d asked for guarantors for the Torah and we responded “Our children are our guarantors.” On Passover the focus is primarily on the transmission of our belief and faith to the next generation.)

3. Story-telling - The Torah states “Vehigadeta Levincha” - you shall tell over the Exodus to your son, in the form of a story. It is not sufficient to just state the facts and statistics; it must be told in story form.

The lesson that Torah is teaching us is quite clear. If we want to successfully transmit faith and belief to a child, the best way to do so is by telling a story. A story has a special charm that leaves a deep impression on its hearers, and especially on children. All the educational techniques in the world do not succeed the way a story can.

What kind of story should we tell? A story of faith, miracles, and righteous people. And what better story is there than the Exodus from Egypt? It is the power of this story that makes such an indelible impression upon children and adults at the Seder table.

It is this message of Passover that we should take to heart: the awesome power that stories have to transmit faith and courage to the next generation. We have many opportunities throughout the year to tell stories to our children. It may be at the Shabbat table, or at night before the children are put to sleep. There are stories of great Jewish personalities of old, or of a grandparent or great grandparent. You will be pleasantly surprised at how these stories are remembered many years from now.

Ever eat a doughnut and wonder where the hole went? This age old questions has plagued carbohydrate-saturated humanity for years. Yet the answer still evades us.

A similar question, though less popular, has been asked by great Jewish thinkers of the past: When one lights a candle in a dark room, where does the darkness go?

The answer given is that darkness has no existence of its own. It is a non-entity because it is simply the absence of light. Once a candle is lit, the darkness disappears. It doesn’t go into the closet, or to the next room. It simply disappears.

When igniting a small flame in a dark room, the room immediately becomes illuminated with the light of the candle. The larger the flame, the more illuminated the room becomes. Nevertheless, even the smallest flame is enough to expel the darkness. Because darkness is nothing.

On Chanukah we light candles. On the first evening of Chanukah we light one candle. On the second night we light two, and so on, until the eighth night of Chanukah when all eight candles of the Menorah are lit.

We start with one candle, enough for the initial expulsion of darkness. Each day we go a step further in brightening our lives with another candle, until the light reaches its ultimate goal; to completely dispel the darkness.

Every year on Chanukah we celebrate the great triumph of the Macabees, led by the illustrious Judah the Macabee, over the vast Greek armies which had invaded the Holy Land of Israel, and threatened to prevent the Jews from practicing their traditions.

The Macabeean army, small and weak as they were, prevailed, with the help of G-d, over the intruding enemy.

The victory is a symbol of a small glimmer of light being triumphant over the great darkness which seemed to be in command. With the notion that darkness is but the lack of light, the victory was easily attainable.

This is the ongoing battle we face every day.

In a world where G-dliness is, say, not on everyone’s prioritized agenda, one may feel at times that darkness is in fact prevailing. It may seem that the mundane is sometimes taking more precedence in our daily lives and directing our every day activities. To combat the darkness which conceals the G-dly light, we must light that small candle, bring that little bit of G-dliness back into our lives.

Once we begin with that, with the tiny flame within us, the process of ridding the world of spiritual darkness will increase, until we will be able to bask in the ultimate G-dly light.