Fear of the Unknown

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Posted on May 30, 2018 (5778) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

 

Human beings are by their very nature creatures who are eternally dissatisfied and fearful. It is a rare person that, even at a joyous family occasion, can grasp the moment and fully enjoy it. Even as the bridal couple stands under their marriage canopy, observers and the families of those concerned are already fretting about what the future will hold for the young couple. Rarely can a person truly live and enjoy the present.

 

In the Torah reading of this week the generation that left Egypt, received the Torah on Sinai and witnessed all of G-d’s miracles on a first-hand basis, nevertheless begins to fray and fall apart. Their main concern, the doubt that hovers in their minds throughout the 40 years of existence in the Sinai desert, is how they will fare when they finally do reach and settle the promised land of Israel.

 

This task appears to be so daunting that it frightens them. The reassurance given them by Moshe, that G-d will continue to perform miracles on their behalf does not resonate with them. Their frustration will eventually burst forth in the Torah reading of next week with the story of the spies and their evil report regarding the land of Israel. The father-in-law of Moshe himself leaves them and no arguments or persuasions can change his mind. In its way, this was a crushing blow to the morale of the Jewish people and only confirmed their doubts as to whether they have a future in the land of Israel.

 

In effect, the mindset of the people was that today’s miracles do not guarantee the presence of miracles tomorrow and that the land of Israel is too risky an adventure to entertain.

The fear and disaffection for the land of Israel lies at the root of all of the upheavals and rebellions that we will read about this Shabbat and in the coming Torah readings as well. They may complain about food, their leaders and all sorts of other gnawing issues that trouble them but that is only a cover for their fear of the future and for the unknown that the land of Israel represents to them.

 

This is a situation that exists even today in the Jewish world. It is a lack of self-confidence that we paper over with bravado. Deep down we are aware of the precarious nature of our situation and of the hostility of the world towards our state and us. To a great extent we whistle when passing the graveyard because of our lack of faith in ourselves, our future and even in the G-d of Israel.

 

We cannot be satisfied with the moment because of our concerns, no matter how unwarranted they may be regarding the future. Naturally, we are somewhat traumatized by our past and it is not a simple matter to simply ignore the problems and enemies that loom over us. Nevertheless, we are bound to rely upon our faith that all will yet turn well for the Jewish people and the state of Israel and we attempt to live our lives and order our priorities accordingly with optimism.

 

Shabbat shalom Rabbi Berel Wein

 

Can We Go Back to Life Before Corona?

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Posted on June 12, 2020 (5780) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

 

In this week’s Torah reading we hear an oft repeated refrain uttered by many in the generation that found itself in the desert of Sinai. They said that we want to return to Egypt. The present is too difficult, and the future is too uncertain so let us go home to Egypt which we were familiar with and where we knew what to expect.

 

All human beings fear uncertainty. The future is always somewhat terrifying because of its unknown quality. We lack the self-confidence to know that we can somehow overcome all difficulties, even those which are currently not apparent. There is always that inner voice within that bids us to attempt to return to a known past rather than to advance to an uncertain future.

 

This psychological weakness permeates the entire series of events which are reflected in the Chumash of Bamidbar. There is security in the past, even in a past that was not pleasant or congenial. We see this in the Jewish world today when people want to return to the eastern European past that can never be renewed, instead of attempting to create a great future which will be relevant to its time.

 

This statement of let us return to Egypt is therefore representative not only of the generation of the desert but it is something that we hear repeated often throughout all Jewish history and in our time as well. It is a seductive statement but a dangerous one. Even if we wish to do so, there never was an ability to return to Egypt and to recast the world as it once was instead of what it is.

 

As we emerge from the scourge of the Corona epidemic, we again hear within us the refrain to return to what was – to the world that we knew just a few short months ago. However, that is a false hope and an unrealistic view of the matter. No matter how we will judge current events there can be no question that the world has changed and that certainties we had may no longer remain. It is the uncertainty of the future that is now descending upon us that makes us anxious and somewhat frightened.

Human beings and especially the Jewish People are extremely adaptable and capable of facing the challenges of the unknown future. It is within our power to renew our self- confidence and to proclaim that we are willing and able to undertake building a newer and morally healthy and humanly beneficial society. Because of this we will have an opportunity that has not been granted too many times, to mold and shape the Jewish future in a productive and holy fashion. We should appreciate having such an opportunity and make certain that we do not squander it on nostalgia and, even worse, on repeating errors of the past. Going back to Egypt has never been a positive solution.

Shabbat Shalom. Rabbi Berel Wein

 

Pennies From Heaven

 torah.org/torah-portion/drasha-5758-naso/

 

Posted on June 12, 2019 (5779) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha | Level: Beginner

 

 

The portion of Naso contains phrases that are said every day by every congregation in the world. In the Diaspora they are incorporated in the repetition of the Shemone Esrai, the (morning) standing prayer, and in Israel the kohanim themselves, the priests, recite them each morning as they bless the nation: Birkas Kohanim, the priestly blessings. In this week’s portion Hashem instructed the kohanim to bless the people: “Thus shall you bless the nation of Israel, speak unto them. May Hashem bless you and safeguard you. May He illuminate His countenance upon you and let you find grace. May He lift His countenance upon you and establish peace for you.” (Numbers 6:22-26)

It seems that we ask for more than blessing. Why is each one of the blessings followed with its practical implication? Bless us… and safeguard us. Illuminate us … and let us find favor in the eyes of others. Lift countenance.. and establish peace for us. Is it not enough to be blessed and have the illumination of his countenance? What is the necessity of the second half of each blessing?

 

Noted attorney Robert Harris, Esq. of Woodmere, told me a wonderful story:

A man once pleaded with the Al-mighty to bestow a bit of His abundance upon him. He implored and begged his Creator for long life and wealth. After all, the poor soul figured, G-d had an abundance of everything; why then, wouldn’t He spare something for a Jew in need. He entered a huge, empty synagogue on the Lower East Side and began to cry.

 

“Ribono Shel Olam (Master of the universe),” he cried “in the great extent of Your eternity what is a million years?”

The man began to tremble. He imagined that he actually heard a response. “To Me a million years is just a mere second!” boomed a voice inside his mind.

The man continued. “And,” he pleaded, “to the magnitude of Your great bounty, what, may I ask, is a billion dollars?”

 

“A billion dollars is just a mere penny,” came the resonating reply. “Then,” begged the man, “can I not have just one of your pennies?”

“Surely!” came the response. And then a pause. “But you must wait a mere second!”

 

It is not enough to get a blessing from Hashem. It must be given with the assurance that it will have a practical implication. Many people receive blessings of wealth and health only to  lose them to thieves and aggravation. Each of the priestly blessings is followed by a safeguard – a follow up. A blessing of wealth alone is not enough. Hashem must guard it.

Illuminating us with His countenance is not enough. Unless fellow humans appreciate the grace that G-d has given the Jews, in this very corporeal world, it is a worthless gift. And of course, even if He lifts his countenance upon us we still need the blessings of shalom – peace.

The Torah also teaches us that blessing others must be done with a full heart and full hand. To bestow generosity on others must include a vehicle to appreciate the bounty. Otherwise you have given the gift of a billion dollars – in a million years. We may give blessings to our fellow Jews, but the greatest blessings we receive, and give are those that we can use – immediately and forever.

 

Good Shabbos!

 

Rabbi Mordecai Kamenetzky

 

Dedicated in memory of Irving I. Adelsberg by the Adelsberg Family

 

Copyright © 1998 by Rabbi M. Kamenetzky and Project Genesis, Inc.

 

 

The Wilderness Within

 torah.org/torah-portion/legacy-5769-bamidbar/

 

Posted on June 6, 2019 (5779) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

 

 

Was it an accident of geography that a barren wilderness lay between Egypt and the Promised Land? Was it an accident of geography that the Torah was given to the Jewish people on a rocky mountain in a parched and desolate land? Would history have taken a different course had they encountered wooded mountains and verdant pastures when they emerged from bondage in Egypt?

 

This week’s Torah reading seems to indicate that there is a significant connection. The commentators observe that the reading begins with the words “And Hashem spoke to Moses in the Sinai wilderness.” Why was it necessary for the Torah to tell us the obvious, that the Torah was transmitted in the wilderness? These words, explain the commentators, contain a powerful implied message. In order for a person to make himself a receptacle for the Torah, he must first render himself a wilderness. In other words, he must distance himself from the concerns and pressures of society and live a more insular life.

What exactly does this mean? Are we meant to seek the wisdom of Torah in pristine corner of the world, far from the sounds and smells of civilization? Can’t the Torah be discovered in the synagogues and study halls of great urban centers where millions of Jewish people live? Of course it can. The Torah is identifying the mental rather than the geographic locales in which Torah can be found.

 

The Hebrew word for wilderness, midbar, reveals a certain ambivalence. On the one hand, it refers to a remote and isolated place. At the same time, however, it is closely related to the word medaber, one who speaks or communicates, which is quite the opposite of isolation.

 

A person who learns Torah has to function on two levels. He must focus on becoming a medaber, a person who interacts with others and communicates to them the values and ideals of the eternal Torah. But first he must fortify himself and become a midbar, a person

insulated against the pernicious influences and peer pressures of society, a person who stands on his principles and refuses to compromise in order to curry favor with others.

 

The Torah does not seek to make people into hermits and monastics. Rather, the paradigm of a true Torah Jew is one who brings the light of Torah to society with a sincere smile on his face and tempered steel in his heart, a gregarious recluse.

 

An idealistic young man came to seek the advice of a great sage. “I want to change the world,” he said. “I want to make it a better place. Where exactly should I concentrate my efforts?”

 

The sage smiled. “You remind a little of myself when I was young,” he said. “At first, I wanted to change the world, but I discovered that I could not. Then I decided I would at least change my community, but I discovered that I could not. Then I decided that perhaps I could at least change my family, but that too was beyond my ability. Finally, I realized I should at least try to change myself, and that has been a lifetime struggle. But I believe that if I had started with changing myself I might have been able to do something for the world as well.”

In our own lives, there is practically no spot in the developed world where we are not blanketed by an aura of decadence and corruption that seeks to penetrate our very souls. So, what are we to do? Are we to abandon our homes and careers and go off to a desert island?  Not at all. But we must always be acutely aware of the spiritual dangers that lurk everywhere we turn. We must imbue ourselves with the spirit of Torah until it becomes like an impenetrable suit of armor. Only when we are thus fortified can we venture forth to bring the message of the Torah to society at large.

 

Text Copyright © 2009 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

Rabbi Reich is on the faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center.

Desert Generation

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Posted on May 22, 2020 (5780) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

 

This section of the Torah is entitled, Bamidbar, in the desert. It is hard for us to imagine, though it may be less hard in our current situation than it was before we were put into quarantine, how the Jewish people lived in the desert for four decades. Since they had no gainful occupations, and they had no struggle to feed themselves for the miraculous bread from heaven fell and the well of Miriam and of Moshe provided them with water and sustenance. What did they do with their time? The apparent answer is that they absorbed themselves in understanding, studying, and assessing the laws and values of the Torah. In any event, they had to raise a new generation of people, a generation that would pursue the goal of entering the land of Israel and settling it and creating a more normal, so to speak, Jewish society.

Our rabbis have characterized the generation of the desert as being one of great intelligence, knowledge and understanding. Yet it was a generation of seemingly no purpose because it was doomed to die in the desert and not accomplish the goal that was entrusted to it when it left Egypt. It was told that it would accept the Torah and then march into the land of Israel.

Moshe was successful in having them accept the Torah, but he was unsuccessful in attempting to have them move to the land of Israel. In fact, an element of the people would say that not only would they not go forward to the land of Israel, but they would be willing to retreat and go backwards into the land of Egypt, the land of affliction and of plagues.

It is hard for us to imagine such a generation, with its sole task only to mark time until it passed away and made room for the next generation, which would perforce enter the land of Israel and build there a society. The desert had however positive aspects to it as well. The Talmud teaches us that the Torah was given to a generation that could live in the desert. If one can relieve oneself of desires and of outside pressures and live as though one is in a desert, then the Torah can find a real home and purpose in the life of that person.

The generation of the desert represents to us a two-faced and double-edged society. On the   one hand, negative because of its refusal to progress towards its ultimate goal, the land of Israel and, on the other, a society of blessedness, free from daily wants and pressures with the ability to intellectualize Torah into its very being.

 

In Jewish tradition, the generation of the desert is always represented not so much as a transitional generation but as a wasted generation. One who has opportunity and ability and does not employ that ability to fulfill the opportunity presented, is seen, in the eyes of the Torah, as wasting one’s existence. And the Torah has a prohibition against wasting anything, certainly time and opportunities.

 

Because of this, we are always troubled when reading these portions of the Torah that will follow for the next few weeks and this section of the Torah which bears the name of the desert as its title. We are struck with a feeling of pity and sadness that the generation that had the possibility of being the greatest ended up being a wasted generation, dying in the desert, having no home, and little or no opportunity, after its great start when freed from Egypt.

Every generation must be on the watch, that it should not be a generation of the desert. We can learn to take advantage of situations which allow us to study and to employ intellectual realism, but we have to also beware that a generation of the desert that does not build for the future and does not take hold of its opportunities will not be remembered as a positive and great generation amongst the story of the people of Israel. We are faced with great challenges, but with great opportunities. And our generation certainly will not be remembered as a generation of the desert, but rather as a generation of Jews who helped build the land of Israel and who have rebuilt the Jewish world, wherever Jews exist.

Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein

 

Small Coincidences

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Posted on May 23, 2019 (5779) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

 

Fire and thick clouds descended on Mount Sinai as millions of Jewish people trembled in awe at the foot of the mountain. And then the voice of the Almighty spoke directly to all the people, the first and last time that such an incredible divine revelation would occur in all the history of mankind. What did the Almighty say to the Jewish people on that historic day at Mount Sinai? He gave them the Ten Commandments.

 

But what about the rest of the Torah? Where and when was that given to the Jewish people? In fact, all the rest of the Torah was also given to the Jewish people at Mount Sinai. The encampment remained at the foot of the mountain for over a year, and during this time, Moses taught the entire Torah to the Jewish people, and the process of study began.

 

This week’s portion, however, when presenting the laws of the sabbatical year, opens with a strange statement. “And Hashem spoke to Moses at Mount Sinai, saying . . .” What is the connection between Mount Sinai and the sabbatical year? wonders the Talmud. After all, wasn’t the entire Torah taught at Mount Sinai. Why make particular mention of Mount Sinai with regard to one commandment?

 

The Talmud explains that this we are meant to draw a parallel from this commandment to all the other commandments in the Torah. Just as the laws of the sabbatical year, which require that the land be left fallow every seventh year, were taught in full at Mount Sinai so too were all the laws of the Torah taught there.

 

The question remains: Why were the laws of the sabbatical year singled out as the example which all the other laws follow?

 

The commentators point to an interesting passage a little deeper into the Torah portion we are reading this week. “And if you shall say, ‘What will we eat in the seventh year? Behold, we cannot plant nor gather in our produce,’ then I will command My blessing for you in the sixth year, and it will yield enough produce for three years.”

What an amazing statement! Here is clear proof (among many others) of the divine origin of the Torah. First of all, do laws of the sabbatical year sound like something people would make up? And even if we could conjure up some motivation for instituting such laws, how exactly did they plan to deliver on the three-for-one crop in the sixth year? This was not written by men. It couldn’t have been.

 

This, the commentators explain, is the point the Torah is making here. Just as the sabbatical laws were formulated by the Almighty and not by men, so too are all the other laws of the Torah from Mount Sinai, divine in origin and not the product of human imagination.

 

A man, who had business in a distant city, bid his wife farewell, left his apartment and went out to the street to find a taxi. To his delight, a taxi was standing at the curbside. At the airport, he found a skycap waiting to take his luggage just as he opened his door. His ticket was waiting for him at the counter, and once again, he was delighted to discover he had been assigned his favorite seat. What wonderful coincidences, he thought.

 

The coincidences continued throughout his trip, and he marveled at his good fortune. Finally, he arrived at the hotel in the city of his destination and found that a delicious meal had been prepared for him. Moreover, the food was prepared and arranged exactly as he preferred it!

 

Aha! he thought. This is too much to attribute to coincidence. Now I clearly see my wife’s loving hand. She made sure that I was happy and comfortable every step of the way. I must thank her not only for the meal, but for every convenience I have so fortuitously encountered on my trip.

 

In our own lives, most of us can easily think of at least one or two times when we saw clearly    the Almighty’s hand leading us through difficult times. But think about it. Doesn’t it stand to reason that all the other good things that have happened to us in the normal course of events, all the little coincidences that we are so accustomed to taking for granted, all of these were also engineered by the loving hand of the Almighty? Once we come to this realization, our relationship with Him will rise to a new level and will be forever spiritually enriched.

The Formula for Success

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Posted on May 23, 2019 (5779) By Rabbi Label Lam | Series: Dvar Torah | Level: Beginner

 

Hashem spoke to Moshe on Mount Sinai, saying: Speak to the Children of Israel and say to them: When you come into the land that I give you, the land shall observe a Sabbath rest for HASHEM. For six years you may sow your field and for six years you may prune your vineyard and you may gather in its crop, but the seventh year shall be a complete rest for the land, a Sabbath for HASHEM… (Vayikra 25:1-4)

 

What is the relationship between the “Sabbatical Year” and “Mount Sinai”? Just as the details of the Sabbatical were given on Mount Sinai so all the other Mitzvos and their particulars were given on Mount Sinai. (Rashi)

 

Rashi asks a question and he answers it! What is the connection between Mount Sinai and the Law of the Sabbatical year? It is quite remarkable that the Laws of Shmitta are connected to Mount Sinai. Mount Sinai and the experience in the desert, eating heavenly bread and learning all day is a world apart from entering a physical land with loads of agricultural needs.

 

Why should the Shmitta be mentioned in connection to Mount Sinai? And even according to Rashi what’s the importance of knowing that the details of the Sabbatical were promulgated at Mount Sinai?

 

The Zohar tells us that if Adam HaRishon, the first man, would have eaten first from “The Tree of Life” before eating from the “The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil” then he would have lived forever in the Garden of Eden. We know that that’s not what happened. He ate from “The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Bad”, first and that made all the difference.

 

In practical terms, what are these two trees? They are actually two distinct ways of learning about life. “The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil” is subjectivity. It is the school of hard knocks, not Fort Knox, hard knocks. The tuition for this school is free at first but in the end it turns out to be extremely costly. It’s when we learn and discover through experience.

Many great lessons can be learned through difficult and even bitter experience but the fallout from those lessons linger on. Sure, a person can learn who to marry and how to stay married and how to raise children properly by trial and error, but the human toll and the loss of time and can be devastating and tragic. No one wants to look back and utter the words, “I wish I had known this sooner! I could have saved myself and others loads of aggravation.”

 

Years back we paved a huge piece of land in our backyard and installed a basketball court. “Today I mention my sin”. I took up the cause of setting in cement and assembling the basket. While my oldest son was busy carefully studying the instruction manual, I was already at work putting things together. We came to the same discovery at the same time. He looked up at one moment and declared first you have to put this part on and only then attach the other. I had already done it in reverse order and was wondering why it didn’t fit quite right and why do I have an extra nut and bolt. Well, I messed up and my mistake was unable to be undone. For the next 20 years it always had a distinct wobble; a constant reminder and a permanent monument to my false bravado.

Alternately, “The Tree of Life” is utter objectivity. It’s a code word for Torah. It means making use of the instruction manual for life.

 

Employing “The Tree of the Life” versus “The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Bad” is the difference between going food shopping with an itemized shopping list and food shopping without a list. If one has a list there is a greater likelihood that he will navigate through all the tempting food isles and exit the store with only what was needed. If one doesn’t have list then the shopping cart will be filled with extra junk and the cost will be high.

 

When the Jewish People learned about the Laws of Shmitta well in advance to entering the Land of Israel, they were in fact reversing the faulty trend initiated by Adam HaRishon. Now they were gaining a mind of objectivity before engaging a heart of subjectivity. Learning the laws and the guiding principles of marriage before getting involved in the emotional world of a relationship is the formula for success.

Blind Faith • Torah.org

 torah.org/torah-portion/drasha-5761-behar/

 

Posted on May 23, 2019 (5779) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha | Level: Beginner

 

The commandment of Shemitah is a test of our faith and an examination in our true belief in the Almighty’s ability to sustain us. The Torah commands us that every seven years we must let the land of Israel lie fallow, with no harvesting or planting of crops. But Hashem promises us that if “you shall perform My decrees, and observe My ordinances and perform them, then you shall dwell securely on the land. The land will give its fruit and you will eat your fill; you will dwell securely upon it” (Leviticus 25:18-19). Rashi explains the blessing “even if you eat only a little, it will be blessed in your stomach,” The little you eat will grow into a bounty of satiation. But after assuring us that our little will feel plentiful the Torah talks to the naysayers. The Torah talks about that group of people. “If you will say – What will we eat in the seventh year? — behold! We will not sow and not gather in our crops!” Hashem assures them as well. “I will ordain My blessing for you in the sixth year and it will yield a crop sufficient for the three-year period.” (Ibid v.20-21)

The Kli Yakar and a host of other commentaries ask. Why should a Jew ask that troubling question? Didn’t Hashem command his abundant blessing in the sixth year? Didn’t the little bit of food leave them satisfied? Why do they have concern about the ensuing years?

 

My dear friend Rabbi Benyamin Brenig of Golders Green, London recently related this wonderful story to me: Reuvain and Shimon were two men, who lived on opposite ends of town. They each inherited a fortune of gold. Each of them decided to bury their fortunes in their backyards. They wanted to make sure that they would have something to sustain them in their old age. On their respective properties, they each picked a landmark, paced twenty steps due north and dug a large hole.

Reuvain, the more nervous of the two, was careful to make sure that no one was watching. Every other second he glanced furtively over his shoulder to make sure that no one saw him bury the treasure. No one did.

 

Shimon, by nature, was trusting and carefree and he was not so careful. He was not worried that anyone would steal his fortune. But he was wrong. He was spotted by a nosy neighbor, who was also a thief.

 

In the middle of the night, the thief dug up the fortune. Out of mercy, he left few coins at the bottom of the pit, and removed the coins. He refilled the hole and packed the ground perfectly as if nothing was disturbed. Then he took off with the fortune.

 

Reuvain’s fortune, however, remained intact. But he was, by nature, a worrier. And so, the next day he decided to dig up the hole to make sure that the gold was still there.

Accidentally, he counted only fifteen paces from his landmark and dug. There was nothing there. Reuvain was frantic. Someone must have seen him dig the pit, he figured. For the rest of his life, he worried. On his property, he had a pit filled with gold coins, but all Reuvain did was worry!

Shimon on the other hand had nothing but the remnants of a few coins. Everything else was stolen. But he never checked the fortune, and was merrily content, assured that when the time would come he could dig up the pit and retrieve his fortune. Reuvain, the millionaire, died heartbroken and frantic. Shimon, the man with but a few coins left for his old-age lived his life content as if he was the wealthiest man in the world.

 

The Torah tells us about the different types of blessings. For the faithful, Hashem says, “I will command my blessing in the sixth year,” in which Rashi assures us that even a bit will feel like a bounty. But we must acknowledge that despite Heavenly assurances, there are those who always worry. They need to see the money! They ask, “What will we eat in the seventh year? Behold! We will not sow and not gather in our crops!” Hashem must assure them that he will increase their bounty in a way that is visible to them.

Some of us can believe without seeing immediate results. We can sleep well, with full satisfaction on empty stomachs. The greatest expression of faith is when we do not see the blessing, but we feel it in our hearts and even in our stomachs. That blessing transcends tangibility, and the fear of deficiency. I think that is a noble goal.

 

For the rest of us, those who keep looking over their shoulder and check their fortunes every day, they need a different type of blessing. Sometimes we dig for tangible salvation, even though the treasure is sitting undisturbed in our own backyard.

 

Dedicated by Aleeza & Avi Lauer and Family, in memory of Avi’s father, Rabbi Elias Lauer – Harav Eliezer Ben Aharon Dovid, A”H, on the occasion of his yartzeit, 26th day of Iyar, and in memory of Avi’s grandfather, Aaron Lauer – Ahron Dovid Ben Eliezer, A”H, on the occasion of his yartzeit, 28th day of Iyar.

Good Shabbos!

Copyright © 1997 by Rabbi M. Kamenetzky and Project Genesis, Inc.

 

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The author is the Dean of the Yeshiva of South Shore.

 

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