Rabbi's Blog

In 2004, Chani and I had the privilege of visiting the Jewish community in Toulouse, France, when we attended the wedding of Chani's brother who married the daughter of the Chabad Rabbi there, Rabbi Yosef Matusof. These past few days, memories from that visit have been flooding my mind. 

Though I’d been to France before - that was the first time I got to experience the Jewish community from within. It was very interesting and unique. Thinking in particular about my experience in Toulouse - two things stand out in the life of that community.

First was unity. There were a few synagogues, organizations, and Rabbis and they all worked together with mutual respect. The deep connection between the members of the communities was apparent. I remember the joy they expressed at the wedding, the shining faces of the participants appearing as though they were marring their own child. 

The other feeling displayed so beautifully by the community was their great warmth. The feeling of family and great care wasn’t only toward their own community members, but was, perhaps even more so, toward the guests. Guests who had been there for only a few hours were treated with charm like they had been there forever. 

The tragedy that hit the community at the beginning of this week is beyond words. The pain of the families of the young children is unbearable. I can just imagine the great shock the community finds itself in right now, and the broken hearts of children who saw evil in its ugliest form. 

Let’s pray for the young injured child, Aaron Ben Leah, who is still fighting for his life, for a complete and speedy recovery. Let's send our blessings from the depth of our hearts to all our brothers and sisters of the Toulouse Jewish community. May the All-mighty give you the strength to overcome these horrific days, may He bring healing to each one of you and to the collective community, and may you see very soon, together with all of us, the fulfillment of the prophecy of Isaiah, "God shall wipe the tears off every face, and the shame of His people He shall remove from upon the entire earth." Amen!

A member of the Jewish community, who is a social worker, informed me of a current patient in the Jubilee hospital who speaks only Yiddish and Russian. Being that I speak Yiddish, she asked if I can visit. 

Yesterday I made it over. I sat next to Vladimir and began speaking to him in Yiddish. His eyes lit up when he heard those Yiddish words - "Mame Loshon". Speaking his childhood tongue made him travel back in time, and without me asking, he started sharing his memories of growing up in Chernovcy, Ukraine. He spoke of the beautiful Synagogue, the lively community, the town that was once a "Jewish Shtetel" and lost its identity with the rise of communism. There was a combination of joyous recollections and sad memories.

It was clear to me that although he was sitting right next to me; he was far away on another plane of existence. It was just that every few minutes, he would pause and say "dos vos gedeinkt zach mir", this is what I remember...

As he spoke about his grandfather, who was his main educator after his father died in the war, I asked him if he remembers him putting on Tefilin. "What do you mean if I remember?! It was every single day, even after the Shul closed down he did this at home, every morning".

"But there was no Cheder at the time so I never learned how to put them on myself, and I never did" he ended with a gloomy face.

"It's not too late” I said "I will bring Tefillin tomorrow and I'll show you and help you put them on".

For the first time since I came Vladimir smiled broadly "Azoy vee der zeide” – “just like my grandfather" he said.

While it seems like Leibel got his fair share of coverage lately, I think this incident and picture is worth sharing 

Two weeks ago, Leibel, who is 6 years old, took for the first time a pencil and paper trying to make a portrait of a figure he knew. When he looked on the finished product - he himself was surprised by the success; we were stunned.

I asked him to draw a picture of my father, who he is named after. A short while later he came up with a drawing that actually captured the look of his grandfather, who he never had the privilege to meet.

Leibel looked on the paper and realized that he just found in himself a talent he had no idea he contained. He saw the faces of his parents and sibling and he was filled with pride of his accomplishment.

I realized that it is a defining moment. "Leibel" I said "Hashem has given you a special gift, you didn't work for it or earn it, how are you going to thank Him for it? In what way are you going to serve Him with this talent?"

Children are so sincere. Leibel listened carefully and then his facial expression changed to one of gratitude and perhaps even humility. "When I daven, I'll make sure to thank Hashem for this too" he said.