Monday, July 26, 2010
Sorry, no post
Until then, oif simchos!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Scarred Hearts
Children are more emotional than adults. When I was younger, the tears were so close to the surface, anything could set them off. If I got hurt, even the teeniest scratch, I would cry. If I heard of someone else getting hurt, I would cry. And if I heard of someone in emotional pain, my heart went out to them.
Every pain that I heard of, every time that I cried scarred my heart. It had been fresh, young, unblemished. But as I grew older, each tzara that I heard about added another layer of scar tissue to the surface of my heart.
And then the defense mechanism kicked in.
If something is known to hurt you, you're not going to chase after it. More likely, you'd run away. When a heart mangled with so many tzaros, so many wounds and scars, realizes what causes its pain, it shuts itself off. Emotion is still there. But the outreach, the feeling for others just …
Disappears.
And now, I can no longer bring out the emotion for others that I used to have. That empathy is not gone, but severely depleteed. When I hear of a tzaar in klal yisroel, I don't cry. I maybe say a kapitol tehillim, but I can't find the tears. I can't find the emotion that used to define me.
Sometimes it hits close to home. That girl who just had twins – Chana Ruchama b-s Tziporah Faiga (she should have a refuah shleima) – is my age. She's my friend's friend. That hurt. But not as much as it would have hurt 10, 5, even 1 year ago. There's just too much tzaar.
The thing is that we as Yidden have an achrayus to be there for our brethren. We have to physically remove the scabs on our hearts and let them feel what we need them to feel. As Yechezkel says (36:26)והסרתי את-לב האבן, מבשרכם, ונתתי לכם, לב בשר (I will remove the stone heart from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh).
The second Beis Hamikdash was destroyed because of Sinas Chinam (baseless hatred).
Now is the time to fix this mistake so we can greet mashiach on Tuesday.
Now is the time to get rid of our scars and hearts of stone and replace them with a flesh, loving heart that can open itself to the rest of klal yisroel.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Parshas Matos-Maasei
Taken from Rabbi Baruch Lederman's ShulWeek
The Torah gives very explicit instructions. The Torah tells us what to do. It also tells us how, when and where to do it. Every detail is spelled out. Just like using a washing machine, when you read and adhere to the directions, all will be well. If not, things will go awry, as the following true story, documented in Parsha Parables by Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky, illustrates:
It was the eve of December 25th, 1776. General George Washington was reeling from his crushing defeats in New York. In a bold and daring move, he had decided to cross the ice-filled Delaware River and attack Trenton, New Jersey. He planned to surprise the thousands of Hessian troops guarding that portal. He did not know that his surprise attack was almost no surprise. A farmer, a British sympathizer knocked on the door where the Hessian Commander, Colonel Johann Rall was attending a holiday party. Rall had always scoffed at the thought of attack, boasting, "Those clod-hoppers will not attack us!"
The farmer had heard of the plans and seen the movement across the shore. He wanted to get the message to the Colonel but he could not get past a servant who accepted a note which spelled out Washington's plans and handed it to the commander. Rall, however, was in the middle of a card game and would not be interrupted. He stuffed the paper in his pocket without even glancing at it. He continued playing through the night until he collapsed from drunken exhaustion.
At dawn, Washington attacked. His ammunition was so waterlogged that his troops could hardly fire a shot. They did not need to. The Hessians were drowsy from the previous night's festivities and the Colonial Army's bayonets were as sharp as the troops' spirit. After an overwhelming onslaught in which the colonists took nearly 900 prisoners, Rall who was mortally wounded, surrendered. As the doctor cut away his jacket, a note fell out. Rall read it and mournfully said, "If I only had read this last night, I would not be here today."
The Rosh Yeshiva or Chofetz Chaim ztl, told us that when he was a youth, he told his father, Reb Dovid Leibowitz ztl, that he was thinking about becoming a doctor instead of a Rabbi. His father replied, "Try preventive medicine." He was telling his son that if we learn and follow the dictates of the Torah our lives will be enriched both physically and spiritually.
Dedicated by Anonymous for the release of Gilad Shalit.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
On Being Old
Now.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Random Question
I feel like it's supposed to be inspiring; I even saw a website call it whimsical. But somehow, I always feel like crying when I hear it. Lately (read: since I started shidduchim), I've just been skipping it whenever it comes up.
Anyone else out there feel this way?
Monday, June 14, 2010
Straightening my Priorities
I was at my friend’s house towards the end of shabbos a few weeks ago. I was sitting on the couch talking to my friend, and her 11 year old brother was reading near us. It was getting close to the time for ma’ariv. He didn’t show any signs of letting go of his book, so I told him to put it down and go.
He refused.
I asked him again, but in a different way – “What’s more important to you, davening ma’ariv or reading your book?”
Surprisingly (or not so surprisingly), he answered “my book.”
I wasn’t shocked at his answer, but I was kind of upset. I kept thinking, “How could he consider his book more important than davening to Hakadosh Baruch Hu?! How could he have his priorities so backwards?”
It kept bothering me until I realized something.
It’s always easier to see faults in others than in ourselves. The thing is that the faults we subconsciously look for in others are those that hold sway within us. As the pasuk in Mishlei (27:19) says, כַּמַּיִם, הַפָּנִים לַפָּנִים-- כֵּן לֵב-הָאָדָם, לָאָדָם. (“As in water, face answers to face, so is the heart of a man to a man.”) A person sees himself reflected in his perception of others.
What I saw in my friend’s brother was a flaw, but it was a chisaron (lack) that I myself have.
Since then, I’ve been thinking about my t’fila. I’ve noticed a real lack in kavana (concentration). I’m constantly distracted by other things. I push davening off until the last minute before the zman (time limit). I think about school or work or anything that’s not davening. I hardly look at the words inside my siddur.
And I ask myself, as I asked my friend’s brother a few weeks ago, “What’s more important to you, davening or <fill in blank>?! ___ or speaking to Hakadosh Baruch Hu?!”
And I’m scared to hear my own answer.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Parshas B'haaloscha
And, can I just pat myself on the back - this is my fourth post this week! (Although Rashi's Wife was a bit of a mix-up.) Procrastination is really the key for getting those creative juices going. I had a final project due yesterday, and I was trying anything and everything to avoid doing it =) . But, now it's done and Touro finals are starting, so I may not be able to post much.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Rashi's Wife
There.
I've said it.
I'm scared of the responsibility that comes with wifehood. The power that a wife has over her husband. The power to make or break him.
I want to marry someone in learning who will stay in learning ... for a while. How long that while will be will depend on him and me and the choices we will make together. But when I think about the future, when I picture myself with a nameless, faceless man at my side, I don't see him in kolel.
I see him working. As what? That's up to him. When? That's up to us. But definitely someday.
So when a bochur is redt to me, and he's a top learner, a true masmid, about whom people say that he could be the next gadol hador or Rosh Yeshiva, I get scared.
He may have the potential to be the next Rashi, but do I have the potential to be the next Rashi's wife?
And when I think about a marriage between me and this type of bachur, I think about the story of the Netziv as a boy. He had almost been apprenticed to a shoemaker. That night, he had a dream that he was in shamayim and saw the sefer HaAmek Davar with him as the author. When he told the malachim that he hadn't written this sefer, they asked him "Why not?" He decided to stay in yeshiva so that he would learn enough to write the sefer he was destined to write.
I'm scared to be the "apprentice-ship" of my future husband. Scared that I'll pull him away from learning and becoming the best he can be.
"חכמות נשים, בנתה ביתה; ואולת, בידיה תהרסנו"
Will I build?
Or c"v, destroy?
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
♪ Happy Blogoversary to me ♪
First of all, I came across a beautiful post by Rachel Simon, author of one of my favorite books Riding the Bus with my Sister - for special sibs, it's a must-read. I first heard about it at the Yachad family shabbaton when I was in 12th grade, and it went a long way to helping me accept my sister and myself as who we are. I actually corresponded with the author once or twice.
Second, I wanted to remind you of a post long ago relegated to the archives - my first real post, actually. I just reread it and was surprised at its profundity. Let me know what you think (here or there).
Third, I wanted to reflect on what I've gained in the last year of blogging. I've definitely matured as a writer and thinker. My musings make more sense, have more validity, even in my own head. Sharing with all of you has really given me the means to refine myself, and I truly appreciate all of my readers - whoever they may be.
So, keep those comments coming, and stay tuned for next week's post!
Monday, May 24, 2010
Sharing in Simcha
She called me up before it was official to share the amazing news (what's with that btw? why do people need to know before it's official? But that's another rant...). When my cell phone rang, and I saw it was her, I thought for a second "She never calls me - she must be engaged." Then I remembered that this particular girl does call me relatively often and disregarded that errant thought.
After she told me that she gets a mazel tov but before I had a chance to respond, I waited for the pain.
I waited for the bittersweet happiness that I felt the last time a friend of mine got engaged, but it never did.
I was thinking about it last night as I was on a total high for her - almost more excited than she was - and trying to keep the news from my parents (unsuccessfully) and our other friends (managed to do so by staying far away from them...). Why is it that the news of this other girl's engagement hurt, but this news didn't? Why was I able to keep my simcha for this friend complete, but the joy for the other was mixed with pain?
And I realized that a close friend getting engaged is very different than a girl--you-kinda-know-because-you're-neighbors/classmates/coworkers-but aren't-really friends-with getting engaged.
The girl you kinda know is just another number. She's just another girl who's getting engaged before you. Another girl that you have to smile at and wish mazel tov to when all you want is to be the kallah yourself. Not necessarily with her chosson, but just to have found the right one and be finished with the waiting.
But a close friend is totally different. You don't see her age or status when she gets engaged. All you see is her happiness, her joy at finding that special someone. And you're just so happy for her, there's no room for any sadness.
It's all about the difference between an individual and a statistic, between a friend and number.
Now, I can only speak for myself when I say this, but it seems to me that if I would be able to see everyone as my siblings - which they truly are - wouldn't that lessen the interminable pain of my own wait?
So, maybe I was wrong before.
Maybe it's not the difference between an individual and a statistic.
Maybe it's the difference between an acquaintance ... and a sister.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Waiting
How wrong we are...
I'm not an "older" girl. I'm just 21. But still - I feel the pressure of being single when most of my seminary friends are already married with their first child born or on the way. I feel left out when they talk of husbands, and I dream of what I'll look like when it's my turn to wear white.
But things take time.
During that same seminary talk about shidduchim, they gave out a story by an "older" girl. I don't know who she is, nor how old she was when she wrote this. The teacher who gave it out did say that she's gotten married since she wrote it. I have gotten chizuk from it numerous times over the last 2 years, and now I share it with you. I hope this introduction serves as giving credit where credit is due.
Now, I give you The Waiting Room.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Long Time No Post
And then I remember that the author I'm talking about is me - and the reason she hasn't posted is because she has had nothing to say. I wouldn't even go so far as to say that I've had writer's block. I'd probably just say that I've had blogger's block. I've thought of tons (ok, not tons, but more than one) of ideas, but unlike some other bloggers who blog via iphone or ipod (I am the proud owner of neither), I have to get in front of the computer to write it up, and lately that just hasn't been happening.
So, I try again.
It's almost my blogoversary. I hereby take on an early birthday (think New Year's) resolution to try to post at least once a week.
Based on my past record - any guesses on how long I'll stick to it?
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Happy Birthday to me
May you be zocheh to
Amazing, wonderful things
To all the good in this world
That Hakadosh Baruch Hu brings
For all those who are married
Shalom Bayis may you have
And for those of us who are not (yet)
May we soon find our other half
I wish you to have clarity
In everything you do
May you see Hashem in everything
He should always be with you
May you see all your messages
And learn from them with haste
May you withstand all the challenges
With which we're inevitably faced
Health, hatzlocha, happiness
And everything that's Tuv
Y'malei Hashem kol mishalos libeich
May He answer you with good
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
T'fila L'Parnasa
Yaakov was learning in kollel. Every week, all the men of the kollel would line up in front of the Rosh Yeshiva, and he would pass out their checks. And every week, the check would have the same amount - just enough for Yaakov to support his family. One particular week, Yaakov got in line as usual. Somehow, as the Rosh Yeshiva was passing out the check, he skipped over Yaakov. When Yaakov asked the Rosh Yeshiva why he was skipped, the Rosh Yeshiva was very surprised. He said that he never missed a kollelman, so Yaakov must have done something that caused this confusion. After a great deal of thought, it came out that Yaakov had been so reliant on the kollel's check, had taken it so for granted, that he had stopped saying the T'fila L'Parnasa during the bracha Shema Koleinu in Shmoneh Esreh.
I just made the same mistake.
I have been temping at an office. When I had my interview there, they basically told me that after I finished the temp work, I would be given a real, permanent job. I took it so for granted, I didn't see the need to daven for a job. I already had one.
But no.
Hakadosh Baruch Hu is the one who determines who will have parnasa, and who won't. Who will have a job, and who will not. There are no assurances in this life - about anything. Shidduchim, parnasa, health, etc. Hashem gives us everything, and if we are not deserving - if we don't appreciate and acknowledge where our plentitude comes from - He can take it all away.
And davening is the only way to get it back.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Parshas Vayakhel/Pekudei
ויבא את הארן אל המשכן וישם את פרכת המסך ויסך על ארון העדות כאשר צוה ד' את משה (40:21)
In his commentary on our verse, the Baal HaTurim points out that the Torah emphasizes that every aspect of the construction and assembly of the Mishkan was done precisely as Hashem commanded Moshe. In fact, the phrase “as Hashem commanded Moshe” is used 18 times in Parshas Pekudei. As there are no coincidences in the Torah, the Baal HaTurim explains that this number alludes to the 18 blessings recited thrice-daily in the prayers known as Shemoneh Esrei.
I once heard a beautiful and profound insight into the comment of the Baal HaTurim. Hashem told Moshe (31:1-5) that Betzalel should be in charge of building the Mishkan and its vessels, for He had imbued him with Divine wisdom and with expert craftsmanship skills. We are accustomed to viewing artists as free-thinking and creative spirits, valuing self-expression over adherence to strict guidelines.
As many of the specifications for the Mishkan weren’t absolute and even numerous deviations wouldn’t invalidate it, one might have expected Betzalel, with his “artistic spirit,” to improvise and attempt to “improve” upon Hashem’s blueprint. Therefore, the Torah stresses that he followed each and every instruction down to the smallest detail.
Similarly, many people today complain that they feel constrained by the standard text of our daily prayers, which was established almost 2000 years ago. They feel that as our daily needs change, so too should our expression of them. However, based on the Baal HaTurim’s comparison of the daily prayers to the construction of the Mishkan and its vessels, we may suggest that on a deeper level, he is hinting to us that we need not feel stifled by the repeated expression of our needs and entreaties using identical phrases, as illustrated by the following story.
A close disciple of Rav Yechezkel Abramsky once mentioned that an acquaintance of his had recently undergone a difficult kidney transplant. Rav Abramsky sighed, feeling the other Jew’s pain, and then remarked, “I pray every day that I shouldn’t be forced to undergo such a procedure.” The surprised student questioned why he made a special point of reciting this unique prayer daily. Rav Abramsky responded that this request is included in the standard wording of Birkas HaMazon, in which we request that we not come to need מתנת בשר ודם – gifts of flesh and blood (e.g. transplants).
The student challenged this explanation, as the simple understanding of the words is that we shouldn’t need monetary gifts from other humans (“flesh and blood”). Rav Abramsky smiled and explained that the Sages incorporated every need we may have into the text of the standard prayers. Any place we find in which we are able to “read in” a special request we have into the words is also included in the original intention of that prayer.
Just as Betzalel followed Hashem’s precise guidelines for the creation of the Mishkan and still found room for creative expression by doing so with his own unique intentions and insights, so too our Sages established the standard wording of the prayers with Divine Inspiration, articulating within them every feeling we may wish to express. Many times, in the midst of a difficult situation, we begin the standard prayers with a heavy heart, only to find a new interpretation of the words which we have recited thousands of times jump out at us. This newfound understanding, which has been there all along waiting for us to discover it in our time of need, is perfectly fit to the sentiments we wish to convey, if we will only open our eyes to see it and use our Sages’ foresight to express ourselves.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Parshas Ki Sisa
Rashi writes (Bamidbar 19:2) that Hashem declared the mitzvah of parah adumah to be a “chok” – Divine decree with no readily apparent rationale – regarding which we are not permitted to inquire or attempt to understand. Shlomo Hamelech declared (Bamidbar Rabbah 19:3) that after using all of his intellectual capabilities to attempt to understand this mitzvah, he was still unable to do so.
Yet Rashi also writes in the name of Rav Moshe HaDarshan that the parah adumah served as atonement for the sin of the golden calf, and he proceeds to explain how each detail of its laws specifically atoned for a corresponding aspect of the golden calf. After writing that the parah adumah is the quintessential chok, the purpose of which even Shlomo couldn’t grasp, how can Rashi proceed to explain the rationale behind the mitzvah in great detail? Secondly, in what way did this mitzvah specifically effect atonement for the golden calf?
The Beis HaLevi explains that when the Jews incorrectly concluded that Moshe died, they were distraught by the lack of an intermediary to lead them and teach them Hashem’s will. They yearned to build a place for the Divine presence to rest among them to fill the void left by Moshe’s perceived death. Because their intentions in building the calf were for the sake of Heaven, they selected Aharon to lead the project so that it would succeed. If so, what was their mistake, and why did their plans go so awry?
The Beis HaLevi explains that each mitzvah contains within it deep, mystical secrets which have tremendous effects in the upper worlds when performed properly. At Mount Sinai, the Jewish people erred in thinking that if they discovered the Kabbalistic concepts behind a mitzvah, they could perform it based on their understanding even without being commanded. As a result, although their intentions were proper, they lacked the Divine assistance which comes only from performing His will, and they ended up sinning with the golden calf.
The Medrash (Shemos Rabbah 51:8) teaches that the Mishkan also served as atonement for the golden calf. The Beis HaLevi explains that because the sin of the golden calf was caused by doing something without a command from Hashem to do so, the Torah repeatedly emphasizes in Parshas Pekudei (e.g. 39:5) that every aspect of the Mishkan was made exactly as Hashem commanded Moshe.
With this introduction, we can answer our original questions. The mitzvah of parah adumah is indeed a chok, the logic of which escaped Shlomo and certainly Rav Moshe HaDarshan. If so, what does he mean when he says that the red heifer comes to atone for the golden calf? As we now understand that the root of the sin of the golden calf was the Jews’ attempt to “outsmart” Hashem by doing something which He didn’t command them to, the ultimate rectification of this sin is to completely subordinate one’s intellect to Hashem’s dictates. This was manifested by their willingness to perform a chok, a mitzvah which appears to make no sense but which we do solely because Hashem commanded it.
(taken from Parsha Potpourri by R' Oizer Alport)Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Purim Poem 5770
Our theme this year is the four mitzvos of Purim. Cheap, easy, and still so classy …
Here's the poem to go with it:
ארבע מצוות פורים
All beginning with a מ
Every year since time long past
Yidden fulfilled them
משתה – a סעודה
With food and lots to drink
עד דלא ידע -
Until a man can’t think
מתנות לאביונים
Our gifts unto the poor
As much as we give to them
Hashem will give us more
Bring משלוח מנות
Two foods to a good friend
A chance to give to those who gave
Best wishes to all to send
And finally the מגילה
The story that tells the why
Hashem will never let us down
The salvation’s always nigh
Each מצוה is represented
In our package to you
One and all, big and small
Though they be just a few
Money, (chocolate) money
To כל הפושט יד
If we give with a whole heart
There’ll be no more façade
A Hamantash – המן‘s hat
In spite of his decree
Here we stand – sending gifts
To each other happily
And for those too young to drink
Grape juice instead of wine
Have a cup, have some more
After all, it’s פורים time!
As for the מגילה
I’ll give you just one guess
This poem that you’re reading
Is of substantial length
Now you’re holding in your hand
סימנים of מצוות four
May we be זוכה in this year
To fulfill many more
Friday, February 19, 2010
Atzei Shitim
Here in America, if you go on a trip, while you do see the wonders of creation, you don't get a mitzvah for every step you take. You don't think that this is your land, your past, and your future. In Israel, you do.
I remember when we went down south to the Negev on one of our last tiyulim (trips). As we were going through the desert, we saw these stubby little trees. (I took a picture, but I can't find it now.) Our tour guide told us they were Atzei Shitim, the trees from which the Mishkan was built (hence the connection to this week's parsha :P).
The question is, though, how did those trees get to the middle of the midbar? Deserts don't usually have trees - cacti, yes; trees, not so much. She answered that Yaakov Avinu saw that in the future we would need wood to build the mishkan, so he planted them there.
The fact that they were still there when I was on that tiyul, that we could still see pieces of the past alive today made my Israeli experience, every tiyul, a wonder. Just seeing the past so alive helped my Emuna so much because it was so clear that the Torah was real. It's real, and it's staring you right in the face. There is no way to deny it.
[Just a funny point from this same tiyul: You know how in upstate New York there are signs for deer crossings? Well, in the negev, there are similar signs for camel crossings. I thought it was hilarious. ]
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Resisting Change
Change is something that happens whether we like it or not. It happens in all parts of society - fashion, technology, education etc. But when change comes, are we supposed to embrace it or guard ourselves against it? Is change good or bad in itself, or is it something that we have to determine, for each individual change, whether we want to incorporate that change or not?
Changes in fashion, for example, can either be more tznius or less. But every season, every time I look at a piece of clothing, I have to decide whether or not I think it's tznius. I personally don't think that the bell sleeve look is so tznius. But that's my opinion. I know others differ. This is a change that I personally decided to resist. Others chose differently.
Changes in technology are also a great example. There was a public outcry from the gedolim against the Internet. But all those who are reading this clearly decided to utilize this change. The Internet itself is nothing but a gate. It can lead to good or evil. You can use it to read divrei torah, or look at pritzus. Every so often I ask myself whether I should give it up, but every time the answer is that at this point, I can't live without it (scarily enough). On the other hand, I have not chosen to embrace television. I do not own a tv, nor do I want to own one. I have made a decision not to allow myself to embrace this change.
I know I'm kind of rambling, but I'm exploring this question in my thoughts as I type. I think that I think that change is something that has to be evaluated in itself. There is no blanket rule to allow or disallow change. Without change, society would be nowhere. But we are a people that traces our heritage back to 3,000 years ago. We are Am K'shei Oref - a people with a strong neckbone - who are meant to resist change.
On the other hand, if we don't allow for change, we would be nowhere. I don't remember which Rav it was, but one of the Rabbonim in Yerushalayim of old (the Old Yishuv, I think) decided that the chareidi community should start to speak Ivrit even though it was prompted by the Zionists. He realized that the chareidim would lose more children to the Zionist culture if they didn't speak the language. He decided to accept change for the betterment of klal yisroel.
We too, with the guidance of our chachamim, have to decide what changes must be made, and which must be guarded against.
Happy choosing!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Parshas Yisro III
"Remember the Shabbos day and keep it holy."
The Chofetz Chaim writes that Shabbos is a sign for the Jewish people. When a store has a sign out front, you know it's in business. When we have Shabbos, we are 'in business.' Faithful observance of Shabbos is part of what makes our people eternal, as the following true story submitted by Evi Reznck, Atlanta, GA, illustrates:
Back in the mid nineties a Jewish advertising executive in New York came up with an idea. What if the New York Times - considered the world's most prestigious newspaper - listed the weekly Shabbat candle lighting time each week. Sure someone would have to pay for the space. But imagine the Jewish awareness and pride that might result from such a prominent mention of the Jewish Shabbat each week.
He got in touch with a Jewish philanthropist and sold him on the idea. It cost almost two thousand dollars a week. But he did it. And for the next five years, each Friday, Jews around the world would see: 'Jewish Women: Shabbat candle lighting time this Friday is ___'. Eventually the philanthropist had to cut back on a number of his projects. And in June 1999, the little Shabbat notice and stopped appearing in the Friday Times. From that week on it never appeared again.
Except once.
On January 1, 2000, the NY Times ran a Millennium edition. It was a special issue that featured three front pages.
One had the news from January 1, 1900. The second was the actual news of the day, January 1, 2000.
And then they had a third front page projecting future events of January 1, 2100. This fictional page included things like a welcome to the fifty-first state: Cuba. As well as a discussion as to whether robots should be allowed to vote. And so on. And in addition to the fascinating articles, there was one more thing. Down on the bottom of the Year 2100 front page, was the candle lighting time in New York for January 1, 2100. Nobody paid for it. It was just put in by the Times.
The production manager of the New York Times - an Irish Catholic - was asked about it. His answer was right on the mark. "We don't know what will happen in the year 2100. It is impossible to predict the future. But of one thing you can be certain. That in the year 2100 Jewish women will be lighting Shabbos candles.
This non-Jewish production manager sensed a profound truth.
Thus is the power of Jewish ritual.
Thus is the eternity of our people.
from Rabbi Baruch Lederman's ShulWeek