Situations

Story: (based on a true story) There are Jews all around me: at the grocery store, Target, the gas station, in one of the six kosher food places on three blocks of Main Street, walking to and from one of the multiple shuls. It’s so exciting, and so different from what I’m used to. I grew up and lived the first years of my married life in smaller, out-of-town towns where a meeting with a fellow Jew outside of the few Jewish establishments we had was a small gift. I would wave to anyone Jewish that I saw, and make some small talk if possible. I might show her a new kosher product that Pathmark was stocking, or she might tell me about a great below-the-knee skirt at Sears that every girl in my child’s class would be wearing to school by the next week. We might know each other well, by sight, or not at all. It didn’t matter to fellow Jews. For the first few weeks, I happily greet everyone passing by, but I start to realize that most people here don’t seem to do that with people they don’t know. Maybe there are just too many people to say hi to. I start to feel myself taking it all for granted too and the thrill of seeing a fellow Jew begins to wane. And then I start to see the sub-groupings. One of the reasons we chose our particular ‘in-town community’ is because the Jewish community has variety, just like the places we grew up but on a much larger scale. But apparently, that scale makes all the difference here, because people tend to stay within their own groups of people like them, people in their kids’ schools or with the same derech. You do smile and nod to someone else if you see them in a drugstore, but it’s kind of unusual to invite them over. There seems to be a lot of “Our way” versus “Their way” here. I remember a song that was popular when I was younger. “Kol, Kol, Kol Yisrael, yaish lahem, lahem chelek l’olam, olam haba…” We never gave much thought to the meaning of the words we were singing, that every Jew, no matter who he is, has a portion of the world to come. “V’amaych kulam tzaddikim,” we are all tzaddikim, all Hashem’s crop. We’re all in this together-why should anyone separate anyone else out? Why avoid a tzaddik? So I don’t. I talk to the woman in front of me at the kosher store with the shorter sleeves and less-covered hair, and she tells me about a new shiur being given by a Rebbetzin I respect. We go to the shiur together a few days later, and as we wait for it to start we compare notes on buying school clothes and managing challenging hachnasas orchim situations, and give each other tips. The next week of the shiur, I see my neighbor from down the block, the one who wears only tichels, not sheitels, and dresses kind of bohemian. I’ve never said more than a quick hi, but this time I approach her and strike up a conversation, introducing my new friend from the week before. By the time the speaker begins, we have exchanged Yom Tov recipes, ideas for combatting vacation-burnout and ways to stay inspired. I learn a lot. So do my two new friends. We make tentative plans to meet for lunch the first day the kids go back to school after the chagim to process how it all went and strengthen each other. Kol yisrael, kulam tzaddikim. Halacha: Pirkei Avos-Introduction “Kol Yisrael yaish lahem chaylek l’olam haba she’ne’e’mar, vamaych kulam tzaddikim l’olam yirshu aretz naytzer mato’i ma’asay yadai l’hispa’er.” All Israel has a portion in the World to Come. As it is written, “Your people are all righteous; they will possess the land forever. They are a shoot I have planted, the work of my hands, to display my greatness (Yeshayahu 60:21).” (Maseches Sanhedrin) It is customary to read these lines as an introduction to reading and learning each chapter of Pirkay Avos, despite the fact that they are not a part of it. The words from Maseches Sanhedrin, quoting Sefer Yeshayahu, remind us of the ultimate goal in life: the world to come. It is the context for all of the laws and ideas that will be covered in the upcoming perakim. These lines also provide valuable perspective. Each and every person in K’lal Yisrael has olam haba waiting for him, due to the part of him that is holy and pure. We have a lot of obligations in this world–olam ha’ze–and we may stray and sin, but we will still have that ultimate portion in olam haba. Each Jew either repents his sins or is cleansed of them in the afterworld, and goes on to live his afterlife in the world in which holy souls belong. Under the mistakes we all make, we are all tzaddikim. There are a number of exceptions, severe sins that remove a person’s olam haba, including completely abandoning and denying the Oral Law of Torah, and well as flagrant and deliberate disregard of mitzvos. However, we are taught that a person who commits acts such as these out of ignorance and lack of proper teaching about the value and beauty of Torah is considered to have sinned accidentally, as a tinok shenishba, a child who was captured and raised without Torah. Such a person’s portion of olam haba surely remains waiting for him, along with the rest of K’lal Yisrael. There is also a view that even those whose sins have legitimately lost them their personal portions in olam haba will share in K’lal Yisrael’s communal portion. We will all share in that portion together. Discussion Question Options: In what ways do we often feel ourselves to be different enough from others that we would separate ourselves from them? What other barriers might keep us separate?

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was: Approach someone you would normally not talk to. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute. PIRKAY AVOS – ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS Perek Aleph, Mishna Aleph: He’vay M’sunim Ba’din – Be Deliberate in Judgment Story: (based on a true story) My next-door neighbors are fighting with their next-door neighbors on the other side. I hate when neighbors fight. We all live on the same block and we need to get along, for the sake of our own sanity, but, still, at times, there are some things that seem to divide us. For example, there are driveways. The Siegelmans, who live next to me, have three cars now that their oldest daughter Shira drives to school every day. Their driveway fits two, though they only use it for one. They park the other two on the street, and one always seems to be parked too close to the Levin’s driveway, making it difficult for them to get in or out. I am not a part of this fight that seems to simmer through every-day interactions, Baruch HaShem, because I live on the corner and my driveway is in back of my house. But somehow I seem to end up involved in it anyway because we’ve all been living here a long time and are pretty candid with each other. They both like to complain to me, particularly at times when it’s difficult for me to leave. “How dare they!” Mr. Levin will start, though he will be quickly shushed and calmed by his wife, who has been sitting with me in the backyard while I watch my grandkids in the kiddie pool. “Although”, she will continue, “it really shows a lack of derech eretz to inconvenience your neighbor in this way. I could barely get the car in yesterday. You shouldn’t have to try three times and then get out of your car to look and see if you can make it into your own driveway.” “One day you’ll hit that car,” Mr. Levin will add. “And we will not pay. It’s their fault.” The Siegelmans, of course, think otherwise. In the kitchen at a shared Shabbos meal, Mrs. Siegelman mentions that she believes the Levins are using a tape measure. “Neighbors shouldn’t be so makpid,” she says. “We shouldn’t be so strict on each other. It’s not like we’re hurting them on purpose. One of us parks at the end of a long day, and WE don’t carry a tape measure. It’s not like you can’t get in-it’s just harder. And if it was illegal, someone would have stopped us by now.” At that point, I manage to change the subject, having learned that trying to defend the other side only causes more negative comments. I have opinions, of course, though I wish I didn’t. I try not to listen to what they are saying, to let it float over me and through me. I know that even if I was allowed to hear any of this, it would only be for the purpose of actions, and I would not be allowed to change my opinion about either person. Sometimes I feel like each side is presenting its case to me, begging me to pick a side, preferably theirs. And based on what I’ve been told and what I’ve seen, I do think that one of them is wrong. And who that is may change based on who just talked to me. Each time I think about it, some other factor comes into focus that makes me see the whole thing differently. So I don’t say anything. I have been asked to stick my nose in. “Please, can you tell them it would bother you too?”, or “Please tell them to stop putting notes on Shira’s car-she’s just a kid.” But I don’t want to interfere or to take a side. I learned the hard way that you don’t get involved in family fights, and in many ways neighbors are like family. There are many reasons to stay out of it, but one big one is that I don’t really know enough to decide either way. I am not a judge who can ask each side to tell me specific things and then look carefully into what the law and halacha say. All I have are my instincts, and they aren’t enough. And because I do have one side that I favor in my head, I am not the right person to try to orchestrate a compromise. Not that that’s what they’re asking me to do. So please don’t tell me about your side of an argument. Not only am I not allowed to hear it, but you might contribute to me making a snap judgment that isn’t right or fair. Since I can’t be a proper judge, I won’t be one at all. Pirkay Avos: “…Haym amru sh’losha d’varim, he’vay m’sunim ba’din…” “They (Anshay K’nesses Ha’g’dola) said three things. Be deliberate in judgement…” (Perek Aleph, Mishne Aleph). This statement is directed toward judges. When deciding whether a defendant is innocent or guilty, they must deliberately and carefully consider all factors and testimony, taking all the time needed, regardless of whether such cases are routine for them. Judges should also seek compromise if possible. A judge who renders a ruling too quickly is considered to be a fool, because he over-estimates his own knowledge, and wicked, because by doing so he corrupts justice. The directive may also point to rabbanim who issue halachik rulings, mandating that they investigate sufficiently and not rely on intuition. Additionally, the rabbanim are warning scholars not to rush to become judges, but to consider very carefully if it is right for them and the right time. We may also apply this statement to the average Jew. We must carefully consider every action and decision through the Torah’s lens. Particularly when we are judging others or a situation, or dealing

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was: Refrain from judging a situation that may seem clear to you. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute. Part 2 – V’He’emidu Talmidim Harbay Perek Aleph, Mishna Aleph Story: (based on a true story) “Good morning, Chava!” my fellow teacher Rina called as we approached the cafeteria. “What a beautiful day! Isn’t it great to finally see the sun?” Chava lifted her head a bit in her wheelchair and turned from her nurse who was feeding her. The corners of her mouth stretched a bit out, almost into a smile. Rina stopped and continued speaking to Chava for a few minutes, so I stopped as well. As usual, I had no idea what to say to Chava, but I took a minute to say hello to the nurse and ask about her family. Later that day as we all left school, I asked Rina a question that had been spinning in my head since the beginning of the year only a month earlier when Chava had joined our school. “How do you always know what to say to Chava? I’ve tried, but it always seems so awkward when she can’t talk back. I always seem to ask her a question, but then she can’t answer, and I don’t want her to feel bad about that,” I rambled. Through the years, I have learned to interact with kids with various special needs as they came through the school I teach in, though I don’t consider myself great at it. But Chava has stumped me. I say hi and I wave, but that’s all I know. What will I do next year when she will be in my class for part of the day? Before Chava began school, the relevant staff was informed about her basic needs and that while her body couldn’t do much, her mind followed everything. We were all happy to have her, and she seems to enjoy her classes and classmates so far, based on the frequency of the almost-smiles. But I really don’t know how to interact with her, nor do a lot of others in school, I’ve noticed, so I asked Rina. “I have a leg up,” she answered. “I have a niece in a pretty similar situation, and my sister has helped me along. So it’s pretty normal for me, and I guess I forget that it’s not for other people. I guess I could help you.” I accepted gladly, and then wondered out loud if Chava’s classmates might be a little confused too. Rina agreed to talk to their teacher and see what they’d been told already and if she could help. Then she told me that she had learned something from me today. “You had such a nice conversation with the nurse,” she said. “She seemed to really enjoy it. I bet people don’t stop to talk to her that often.” “I learned that in my family,” I answered. “My great aunt was a nurse for an elderly man, and she used to complain to me that everyone except one of his kids treated her like furniture.” Rina eventually did speak to some staff and the kids, and she made sure to tell them to remember to say hi to the nurse. Within a month, Chava’s nurse was telling me how friendly the class was and that they had even made her a card for her birthday. The school administration saw the kids in Chava’s class interacting with her more both in and out of school, and teaching other kids in the school and around town how to be friends with their wonderful classmate. I imagine these kids will teach many others, including their own families. I myself became the beneficiary of many, many half-smiles, and learned to watch for the beautiful light in Chava’s eyes as an indication of how she might be feeling. She became “Chava” to me, not “Chava in the wheelchair.” It’s amazing what can happen when we give over what we know to someone else. Pirkay Avos: “…Haym amru sh’losha d’varim, v’he’emidu talmi’dim harbay…” “They (Anshay K’nesses Ha’g’dola) said three things…set up many students…” (Perek Aleph, Mishne Aleph). Bais Shammai and Bais Hillel disagreed about the nature of the obligation to set up students of Torah. According to Bais Shammai, only those with proper character and who are not bothered by monetary concerns should be taught, as effort is best spent teaching those who are more likely to become the next generation of sages. Bais Hillel, however, maintained that Torah should be taught to everyone. Each student, regardless of character, should be taught with the utmost effort and care, since even sinners who begin learning Torah often become righteous people. The Me’i’ri adds that those with more limited talent but with stronger determination often strengthen those who are more predisposed to learning. Their repeated questions and drive toward clarity bring inspiration and understanding to their peers as well as themselves. Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau asks how it could be that Bais Shammai would go against the directive of our sages to set up many students. He quotes his father, Rabbi Moses Chaim Lau that the word “harbayh” does not literally mean “many” but instead “a great deal”. It is possible that the word “harbay” modifies “V’he’emidu”, to set up, and not talmidim, students. Bais Shammai focused on setting up each student very, very well. The mishna uses the phrase “set up” rather than “teach” because a teacher must ultimately set up each student to eventually stand on his own. He or she must teach students not just facts and material, but also must breathe life into it, fully explaining ideas and providing a foundation. The teacher must also focus on the student’s character and perspective. Caring for his student, the teacher truly sets him up to become a Torah Jew. Anyone who has knowledge to give over to another is a teacher,

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was: Bring someone else into an ahavas yisrael goal or project you are working on. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute. PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS Perek Aleph, Mishna Aleph Part 3 V’Asu Siyag LaTorah – And Make a Fence Around the Torah Story: (based on a true story) I’m a complainer. It’s a problem that I’ve been trying to combat for much of my life. I call it my version of ‘foot-in-mouth disease’, though it’s not that I accidentally say the wrong thing; it’s that I talk when I shouldn’t, and negative words tend to come out. I like to think I’m a nice person, and in general I think people would agree, but when I get frustrated, sometimes I end up saying what I think. Like last spring, when my kids’ dentist cancelled their appointments that I had made months in advance because a conference she was speaking at got moved. That was the only day I could bring them all at once for the next few months, and it was only a week beforehand, and I was annoyed. So instead of saying, “Thank you for telling me” and hanging up and crying into my calendar, I spent the next five minutes complaining to the receptionist about how this really wasn’t right and what was I supposed to do and what did she mean there were no triple appointments available until late summer? She had nothing to do with it, and it helped nobody for me to ramble on, but I needed someone to hear me. Basically, I shot the messenger. And there was probably some lashon hara mixed in there too. And there was the time the leasing company refused to give me a time frame smaller than five hours to inspect the car and the appliance company did the same for fixing my washer. The insurance company restarted my deductible mid-year and the phone company tried to get me to change the type of phone service I have instead of uncrossing my phone line that I was currently sharing with my neighbor, olden-days style, because they had botched this simple repair. Each of those people on the other end of the line received an earful of why I was annoyed and what was wrong with the whole system and where they personally might be at fault. Sometimes my husband walks in when I’m on a call like that. He always stops me and says, “Let it go.” Then I do what I should have done in the first place: hang up and figure out what I’m going to do about the situation. I call back later if necessary, but without him, I just talk, until the other person has heard enough and hangs up on me. I then spend the next few minutes indignant, followed by the rest of the day kicking myself for doing it again and wondering what negative things the employee is thinking about me. Then, last spring, I got a call from an administrator at my kid’s school. Apparently, my daughter Shaina was not ready for first grade and would have to repeat her final pre-school year. Oh, was I upset. And oh, did I speak to her for almost an hour but not about technical, what-comes-next things. It was all about how hard it would be for Shaina, and how would she cope, and why was this happening, and why can’t we just move her on with some extra help. All possibly important and productive issues if it weren’t for the fact that I was just complaining. Add on some good old fashioned blame for the administrator and some non-productive negative talk about the teacher and the school system, and you have a big ball of useless negativity toward another Jew. When I finally hung up, I knew I had to tackle my problem. What I said to other people belonged only in my head, if anywhere. It made the people I spoke to feel alternately attacked and bad that they couldn’t help more, it targeted some people who were only messengers, it took up people’s time, it often involved lashon hara, and it may have caused a few chillul HaShems. But what to do? Each time I spoke to someone after they had given me bad news, I spiraled. A few days later, I was watching the kids and Gavi came over and grabbed two pieces off of Shaina’s game. She immediately got up to run after him and grab it back, a move that usually got her clocked on the head with whatever Gavi was holding and started a screaming fit that sent them both to their rooms. In the instant that she stood up, I went over to her and stilled her, saying, “Stop-it’s not worth it.” I explained that while she might be right that she was wronged, going after him like that would only create pain and punishment. Engaging with him at all, even verbally, would not lead to a good reasult when she was this angry. Instead, she should stop herself in place, say to herself, “I will tell Ima instead,” and then we could brainstorm the best solution. This all sounded pretty familiar to me. I realized that I often set up fences for my children, many of which amounted to “Don’t engage. Walk away.” I could do the same for myself. I resolved that the next time I received disappointing and seemingly unfair news by phone, I would write it down, get a contact number, and quickly say, “I’ll call back. Goodbye.” No conversations or questions, because then I would get drawn in and begin spiraling. After hanging up I would let myself stew if necessary and call back when I was logical. That would be my barrier against my rambles of complaint and negativity. So far, most of the time, it works; whereas my sheer will

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was: Set up a safeguard to help you work on a goal regarding interpersonal relationships. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute. PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS Perek Aleph, Mishna Bays Part 1 V’Al G’milus Chassadim – And Upon Deeds of Kindness Story: (based on a true story) I can put myself back into those years in a blink of an eye. I had three small children and one on the way, my husband’s salary dropped due to a downturn, and one of my kids developed a medical issue that required many visits and evaluations not covered by insurance. I was fresh out of graduate school, no job, and running from place to place and task to task. There was no time, and just enough money to get by, most of the time. One Shabbos I found myself in a shiur on chessed, and how important it is to do. It all sounded lovely and a lot like what I did in another era of my life, but in the last few years I couldn’t remember having the strength or resources to do anything for anyone else. Invite guests? I could point them toward a room and wave hello, but my kids needed every second I had. Make meals? No time to deliver them, no guarantee I would have “adult food” in the house. Give rides? When? My schedule was too unpredictable. I knew, and the woman giving the speech emphasized, that often a woman’s job is to do chessed in her home, with her own family. But I also knew that I needed some way to reach outside myself and my home, to be aware of the greater world and to help, to feel myself as a helper. It just couldn’t be in the ways I had always done so before. Later that week I decided to take a minute and look through my community’s bulletin board. We needed a small dresser and I hoped someone might be offering or selling one. I struck out, but then I noticed an “item needed”–someone needed study books for the same professional exam I had recently taken after finishing grad school. I had those books, and I certainly had no need for them anymore. I sent off an e-mail, and within two days a woman from my community was on my doorstep picking them up. She kept thanking me for what a big help it was, and I just said, “It’s no big deal.” since it wasn’t. But later I realized that while it was easy for me, it helped her a lot. So I started looking for things I could do that would be easy but important. No, I couldn’t watch anyone’s kids–in fact, I had chessed girls coming to help watch mine. But I could hold doors for people instead of rushing in and out of the store. And I could smile and say hello at the gas station, call someone who left their van door open and tell someone who looked lost in the aisles where to find the canned fruit. And sometimes I was uniquely suited to help where it would be difficult for someone else. For instance, I could give referrals to some of the numerous doctors I used. All of these opportunities were out there, and I had been doing them sporadically, but now I was on a crusade. I gave myself credit for what I has already done and looked for more. This was a chessed goal I could do, a way to stretch within my life at the time. I would just need to keep stretching, and keep reassessing whether I could do a bit more as life moved on. About a year later, a neighbor had a baby and I decided I could handle making a meal. I slowly became able to go back to some of the things I had done before that I enjoyed, and I continue to try to grow. I believe strongly that where I am now is due to the fact that I did not let chessed slip out of my life. I made myself help others, and doing those things helped me too. I slowed down a little, I appreciated others, and I felt important and useful. I felt less guilty about what I couldn’t do, and about having to receive chessed, because I knew I was doing something. It showed in my interactions with my family. And I grew in my avodas HaShem. These acts and the awareness that comes with them, combined with all the work I do for my family, really make me feel that I am helping hold up the world: o’lam chessed yi’ba’neh. Pirkay Avos: “Shimon Hatzadik … haya o’mer, al sh’losha d’varim ha’olam o’mayd, al haTorah, v’al ha’avoda, v’al g’mi’lus chasudim.” “Shimon Hatzadik used to say, the world stands upon three things, upon Torah, upon Divine service, and upon deeds of kindness.” (Perek Aleph, Mishne Bays). Kindness is the purpose of creation and the basis of its construction. Our sages teach us that “the kindness we show each other is more beloved to G-d than the thousand burnt offerings of Solomon” (Yalkut Shimoni, Hoshea 522). Indeed, the trait of kindness determined that man should be created (Beraishis Rabba). Our sages teach that when G-d wished to create man, some angelic beings, such as those representing truth and peace, opposed his creation, for mankind would be false and warlike. But the angelic force of kindness argued for man’s creation, for he would perform kind deeds. From the perspective of truth and peace, man should not have been created. If a person does not perform kind deeds, he removes the sole justification for his existence. In the two instances in the Torah where total destruction at the hand of heaven was decreed–the Flood and the overthrow of Sedom and Amora–the reason was the deterioration of kindness. The term

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was: Look for an opportunity to do something small to help someone else out. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute. Lesson #6 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS Perek Aleph, Mishna Hai Part 1 Y’hi Baischa Pasu’ach Lirvacha – Open Your Home Wide Story: (based on a true story) I am not a guest person. I just can’t handle having them. I love people, but I also like my routine. A Shabbos meal that goes too long makes the kids hyper. Getting a guest room ready takes precious time that I don’t have on Thursday nights. I cook and buy extra things, my fridge gets over-crowded with things I don’t normally need and people bring food to the guest room and basement even though that floor has a no food rule. The whole thing makes me anxious; I just need my own space, where I can check on the kids in the middle of the night without putting on a tichel. I’ve gotten used to meal guests over the years, though we don’t do it all that often in deference to my need for calm and predictability. My husband wanted company, which I wasn’t used to because my parents never really had any, so I pushed myself a little and I can now even enjoy it. But sleeping guests are just too hard–too much arranging, and too much of them just being there. I wish I could be that person who is always having people’s relatives stay for simchos, but I can’t. I’ve always been glad my in-laws are local and my parents don’t like to travel, because having anyone over is hard. Instead, I help people in other ways. I send meals out a lot, so while I may not feed people as much in my home I feed them in theirs. And I have a half-day in my week portioned out for driving people in need to appointments and running errands for them. So my heart is open, but the doors to my home are not. Until recently, that is. A few months ago, my mother-in-law took a bit of a downturn health wise. As the only local relatives, we began hosting them for Shabbos lunch weekly. While my mother-in-law was in the hospital, my father-in-law slept by us. And since she could no longer host the extended family that came in from out-of-town, they came to stay by us, too. I had previously told my husband that I didn’t think I could stretch enough to deal with over-night guests, but HaShem knew otherwise. I couldn’t say no to my mother-in-law who has helped us so much over the years, and couldn’t say “I don’t feel like it” to my husband’s brothers and sisters who came to stay and visit with their parents. My home became a hub of gathering on a regular basis. And I hated it. I was glad I was doing it, but I hated it. I snapped at my kids, and worried over my grocery list, planning snacks for the guests and manageable meals that were crowd-pleasers. My husband and I reworked our budget to get me cleaning help. (Our youngest would go to a back-yard camp instead of the big one in town.) I kept a pre-tied tichel by my bedside and bought a comfy robe to sleep in. I set limits by making solid rules in the house and blocked out quiet weekends when no one would come. And it was still hard. But it was important, so I got used to it. Often I even like it, and my children have benefited as well. They learn new things and have become better at interacting with people who are different from them and not part of their every-day life. HaShem knew that for me and my nature, I wouldn’t be able to slowly push the door to my home open but bit by bit, letting in more and more people slowly, a bar mitzva here and an aufruf there. Apparently, I needed my door flung wide open and my house filled with people in order to get used to them being there. So I try to enjoy my guests and the opportunities they bring, and to remember how the mitzva is helping me to become more flexible and patient as well. And even when it’s difficult, and I am stressed, I know I am doing an important thing. I feel the need for the people staying with me to have a place to be and to feel comfortable and cared for. I feel their want for a fun meal, listening to the children’s divrei Torah. So I give it to them. Some mitzvos are easier for us, and some are harder. I hope that by doing this mitzva the best I can, I will be training my children to be able to one day do this mitzva in their own homes, with an open heart and an open door. Pirkay Avos: “Yosi ben Yochanan ish Yerushalayim omer, Y’hi Baischa pasu’ach lirvacha…” “Yosi son of Yochanan of Yerushalayim says, open your home wide…” (Perek Aleph, Mishne Hai). Just as your home must be a center of Torah (as described in the previous mishna), so must it radiate kindness. It must welcome guests and extend generosity to the needy. According to the Bartenura, the mishna is urging us to open all four doors of our home to guests, just as Avraham did. This interpretation is supported by the name with which the Torah refers to the city of Chevron–Kiryas Arba. While this is generally translated as “the city of the four giants”, in light of our mishna, the term may be understood as the city of Avraham whose door was open on four sides. By emphasizing the need for an open door, the mishna may be subtly reminding us that a guest is entitled to leave at will in

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was: Invite someone over who could use a break. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute. Lesson #7 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS And let the poor be members of your household Perek Aleph, Mishna Hai Part 2 V’Y’hiyu Aniyim B’nai Baisecha Story: (based on a true story) I’m in the middle of my second homework shift, the one that happens while the younger kids eat their early dinner. My middle school daughter just came home and likes to get her math done before she eats, so I process pre-Algebra while I scoop out spoonfuls of pasta and hand one of the younger kids a plate to take to my husband in his home office. I’ve gotten used to this balance, and have even used it as a creative way to teach fractions. What’s hard to do during that time is leave the kitchen. My husband is twenty feet and a closed door away, but basically unavailable, so it’s just me managing it all and I need to be there. But the insistent knock on my door was trying to convince me otherwise. I worked to ignore it. If it was someone I knew, they would have called my cell phone after a minute. And, it was winter, which means mincha-ma’ariv was getting out, which meant that whoever was on the other side of my front door had just finished collecting in the shul around the corner and was now coming to me. Knowing how many knocks I get on the door and how much it frustrated me, my rebbetzin told me that even though my husband is working at home, I don’t need to answer the door for collectors when I am busy with the kids. If need be, since my husband was a shout away, I would open the door, hand over a couple of dollars, smile and say “Hatzlacha!” and close the door again. It was very practical advice, which I used often out of necessity, particularly on nights when many many people came. I spent more time with people who came to the door when the kids were asleep or my husband wasn’t working. But as my kids grew, I saw some cracks in this system. Crack number one: the kids wouldn’t let me not get the door. Knocking turned to bell-ringing, and dinner or homework would stop until it was resolved. Crack number two: they weren’t seeing enough positive tzedaka experiences. So I told myself that on some nights, I would let homework and dinner go a bit and invest in this mitzva instead, and I instituted a new system. As I went to get the door, I put my pre-schooler in charge of getting a plastic cup and giving it to the child older than him. This gave him a job so he didn’t begin painting the kitchen table with his ketchup. The cup was then filled with water by the child who received it, and both kids then walked to the front door and handed it to whoever was there. If there was more than one person, they went back to the kitchen and did it again, giving me more time to listen to stories from the collectors. Sometimes this earned my children a bracha from the collectors. Then I would give what I had, and politely excuse myself to finish my night. If someone made me nervous, I sent the kids to get my husband. I found that in general, the more I gave of my time and energy, the less annoyed I was. Several years later, a man came collecting to help a child who was sick with something one of my relatives had. My heart opened, but I only had four dollars in my wallet and my husband was on a call so I couldn’t disturb him, so I asked the man for his son’s name so I could daven for him. His face lit up as he wrote it down, and then he asked for my relative’s name so he too could daven for a fellow Jew. When I put it on the fridge, my daughter asked about it, and then added it to her list. I now ask for names when I have time. It shows the people that I take them seriously, and it’s something I can do. And I have learned from that man; sometimes when someone in my family is in need of tefillos, after I take the name of the sick person from the collector, I will ask them to daven for my person in need and give the davening name. That way they can do something to help me, which helps to even out the give/take balance between us and brings in someone else to daven for my family’s need. More than once, I have thanked HaShem for sending me extra people who can daven for my child. On this particular night amidst homework and dinner, the bell begins to ring and I leave my daughter in charge in the kitchen, telling her that tzedaka calls and I will try not to be too long. I open the door to a young man with a large bag at his feet and a children’s book in his hand. He hands me the book and opens the large bag, telling me that he is selling books to help support his family. My eight year old son arrives with water and I ask him to look through the bag with me to see what we don’t have. A quick look shows that we have most and don’t really want the others. I thank my son and send him back to the kitchen, then go back to the bag and choose two books I already saw that I know we already have. I pay for them and thank the man, and then close the door and go back to the table. I

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was: Put an extra measure of kindness into your interaction with someone collecting tzedaka. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute. Lesson #8 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS Make For Yourself A Teacher A’say L’cha Rav – Part 1 Perek Aleph, Mishna Vav Story: (based on a true story) My family is complicated. I know–so is everyone’s. But often I feel like I’m navigating one of those corn mazes, trying to make the right turns to the end goal that I knew was there but couldn’t see, without trapping myself and without messing up or hurting anyone else. In short, I grew up in a sort of Conservative, sort of Traditional family. I eventually became frum, while my sister went completely off the derech and my brother stayed the way we were raised. Since we all live within an hour and a half’s drive of each other and of our parents, and we all have families, life can get kind of interesting, particularly around holidays and simchos. I slowly became frum during high school, following as many house rules as possible and putting my foot down where I had to. But the rav at my youth group and my advisers said that while I lived at home, I was living under my parents’ roof, and I needed to tread carefully and respectfully as I grew. So I did my best, but there were some fights. Once I left for school, I was free. A full scholarship took me to Israel and seminary, where I stayed for two years and really learned halacha and hashkafa. I came back to the US, moved into an apartment with a few other girls, and started college. I still called the rav of my seminary regularly with halachik questions, like when we thought we traifed up our microwave. On one of those calls, I was catching up with the Rebbetzin and mentioned that my parents had been begging me to come to them for Thanksgiving break and were pretty annoyed that I wasn’t coming. “And why aren’t you going?” she asked. Why wasn’t I going? I thought it was obvious. “I don’t do Thanksgiving, and they always make a whole big thing, which I can’t eat anyway,” I answered. “Plus, it’s so much easier to stay at my own place. When I’m there, I have to deal with food and dishes and who knows what else, and that’s when it’s not Shabbos. I’m planning to pop over for a couple hours on Friday.” “Hmm,” she responded. “Have you spoken this over with my husband or another rav?” It had never occurred to me to do so. I was out of the house, making my own decisions. My parents needed to learn to accept who I was, right? But I was on the phone to Israel already, so I agreed to speak to the rav. The rav asked a lot of questions about my family situation, and about what would happen on Thanksgiving. After hearing how big a deal it was to my mom, and how my grandparents came in, he told me that I should go. I needed to talk to my mother about bringing my own food, even though my grandparents would kvetch about it. With trepidation, I hung up and dialed my mother. She was thrilled to hear that I was coming, and had an innovative solution to the food issue. Together we worked out the dishes and utensils issues, and I hung up this time feeling nervous but happy. It worked out pretty well, in the end. After that, I called the rav with many family questions. Things have not always gone perfectly. Sometimes, someone would get severely offended by a stand we had to take, but I think there has been much more shalom than there would have been if we were doing this without guidance. My kids have a nice relationship with our extended family, I see the good in all my family members, and I like to think that my sister has a better view of yiddishkeit as well, seeing how hard we work to keep the family together. Our rav is like the man in the tower at the corn maze. We raise our flag for help, and he helps find the way to go. He can see more than we can, because he is above us and has distance. With his counsel, we can better navigate our world. Pirkay Avos: “Y’hoshua ben P’rachya and Ni’tie of Arbel received from them. Y’hoshua ben P’rachya said, “A’say l’cha rav…” “Make for yourself a teacher…” (Perek Aleph, Mishne Vav). “Making” a teacher means that a person must invest great effort in acquiring a mentor. A person thrown back on his own resources is liable to remain stagnant or even to deteriorate. He is particularly liable to err when he must decide what the Torah demands of him, for at that point he is subject to the vagaries of his evil inclination. In addition, Torah learned from one’s teacher remains in one’s memory longer than something one learns on one’s own (Rabbeinu Yonah; Rambam). David Hamelech was a master of halacha. He was familiar with the dynamics of Talmudic discussion, knew the proper questions to present, and possessed broad knowledge and penetrating insight. Indeed, our sages say that the halacha was always in accord with his interpretation (Brachos 4a). Nevertheless, before implementing any decision, he would ask his teacher Mephiboshes, “Did I judge this case correctly?” He turned to an authority to review his decisions. And who was Mephiboshes? He appears to have been David’s social inferior in all respects. He was the son of David’s friend and his nephew by marriage. Yet David overcame his pride to take counsel with his sage. The Chassidic literature sees the directive to “make yourself a rabbi” as a demand for introspection: make yourself your own rabbi. Before you

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was:  Identify an ahavas yisrael issue with which you could use guidance from a rav or mentor. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute. Lesson #9 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS Acquire For Yourself a Friend  U’K’nay L’cha Chavair- Perek Aleph, Mishna Vav Part 2 Story:  (based on a true story) When I moved into a town where I knew almost no one, I was at a loss.  Having moved far from my parents and the city where I grew up, married barely a year, just out of school with a new baby, I wasn’t sure exactly what to do or how to make friends and my best friend from college was just married and often unavailable.  New to motherhood, strange town, no friends, loss of the structure of school and no job yet; in one word–  lost. I coasted for a little while.  I met a few people at the park and we got our babies together, though it was more for us than for them.  I tried a shiur but my baby wouldn’t stay quiet and I had no help at home.  And then one day, one of the women I had met who I got along well with said “yes” when I asked if she might like to learn something with me.  It took us a bit to get started, but soon enough we began picking our way through our first sefer together, five minutes at a time. As we learned, we often discussed our days and our lives within the context of what we learned.  Whether it was Sefer HaToda’a and the Jewish year, the halachos of sh’miras halashon or the inyanim of women and tefilla, we applied it to our lives overall and to whatever had frustrated us that day.  Little things became more meaningful through questions my friend Tova asked and suggestions she made, and I hope I did the same for her.  Learning with a friend gives you the benefit of a second perspective, and the push to actually sit and not only do the learning but think about it.  But for me, there was at least one other huge benefit.  Tova had an important perspective I did not, and I slowly absorbed it through our conversations over the years.  As a child in a small family and an avid student, I had unknowingly spent much of my time growing up focused on myself, particularly intellectual pursuits.  Now here I was, married and mothering a small child, without a school, teachers, or family in sight and needing to make daily dinners as well as large yomim tovim on my own.  Tova is by no means an angel; she is a living, breathing, fallible human being who has told me that she learns much needed perspective from me as well.  But to me, she is also a model of an innate love of others and a natural tendency to give to them.  I would marvel at how she was making what seemed to me to be elaborate dinners that were often very time consuming, and she would nonchalantly tell me that her husband liked them.  Or she would casually mention a meal she was making for the family down the block because they were having a hard week, as if everyone just did that.   Giving, just to give, because another person needs it and you noticed, was a wonderful concept that I learned about and occasionally practiced.  Through years of parsing through our lives as we learned, I absorbed the practical knowledge of accomplishing  that idea, not just know it.  I learned to look past my cynicism a little more often and see good in others.  I learned to pour love into the Yom Tov food I made instead of resentment that I couldn’t just go to my parents and the fact that my kids were picky eaters.  I learned about kibbud av vo’aim.  All these things I was taught in shiurim and through Torah tapes were easier to apply as I watched Tova do them every day.    I learned from many others in my life, of course, but there is little that can compare to someone with whom you speak every day, making yourself vulnerable enough to take apart your life and be open for growth.  I grow with my husband in many ways, but he is not a fellow mother.  Plus, unburdening on a friend helps me not to constantly complain to my husband. Tova and I learned for close to ten years, through halacha and hashkafa and nine books, five to ten minutes at a time, through the birth of seven children between the two of us.  We tapered off as our lives got even busier and our little free time ceased to match up.  Though we are still friends, I miss the regular introspection and growth through boosting each other through every-day events.  I daven regularly that my children should have real friends like this, and should put in the effort to make it work.   I found and go to a shiur that meets once a week.  It’s a small one, where we can discuss and grow together, and we feel connected.  I continue to make the effort and go because none of us can afford to reach a day where we stop learning from, doing for, and growing with others. Pirkay Avos: “Y’hoshua ben P’rachya v’Ni’tie Ha’arbayli kib’lu maihem.  Y’hoshua ben P’rachya omer, …u’k’nay  l’cha chavair…” “Y’hoshua ben P’rachya and Ni’tie of Arbel received from them.  Y’hoshua ben P’rachya says, “Acquire for yourself a friend…” (Perek Aleph, Mishne Vav). A colleague is vital for leading a proper life.  How well did Choni Hama’agal recognize  this when, after having risen from a sleep of seventy years, he exclaimed in his loneliness, “Give me companionship or give me death!” (Ta’anis 23a).   A colleague helps a person progress in his service of G-d and in performing

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was:  Look for a way to help a friend. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute. Lesson #10 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS And Judge Everyone Favorably V’Hevay Dan Es Kol Ha’Adam L’Chaf Z’chus – Part 3 Perek Aleph, Mishna Vav  Story:  (based on a true story) A few years ago, I had two kids in the same school coming home at the same time.  My daughter Suri was an incoming fourth grader, and little Chana was starting a full day of kindergarten.  The problem was that Suri’s afternoon carpool from the previous year had no room for Chana.  I didn’t want to pull Suri out of it because she was with her friends, and my alternative carpool was a bunch of pre-schoolers.  Plus, I’d need it for the next year when Suri got out later.   So I made the strange decision that just for that year, I would have two 3:30 carpools.  I put Chana with the pre-schoolers and Suri with the fourth graders, and I would drive them on different days, and next year Suri’s would become a 4:30 and everything would be in place.  Most people I told about it thought I was a bit crazy until I explained.  And a couple weeks into school, it seemed to be working out nicely.  You cannot underestimate the effect of two girls who are happy with their carpools versus one or more who are miserable. As I sat in my seat waiting for a school parents’ meeting to begin, I felt a tap on my shoulder.  Shaindy, who lived three blocks from me, gave me a warm hello.  She had been part of some of my early carpool negotiations for the preschoolers but had not ended up joining, so I asked her how things were going. “I have to tell you,” she said, “this whole carpool arranging thing has been crazy.  While I was thinking of joining you guys, I happened to speak to Devora, who mentioned that her fourth grader was in your 3:30 carpool.  She then asked if I was sure you had invited me in, because the carpool was full, and had been since last year.   I was pretty confused.  I knew you had invited me, and now couldn’t figure out why.  Plus, I’d just lost a carpool possibility.  But I didn’t want to call you while I was upset, especially since I know you and it doesn’t seem like something you would do, to be that disorganized or inconsiderate.  After some time, I was sure there had to be a good explanation.  I was just about to call you when Devora called me and told me that it turns out you have two 3:30 carpools.  It’s like one of those big dan l’chaf z’chus lessons you read about but doesn’t actually happen to you.  I am so glad I judged you favorably.” Throughout this whole speech, all I could do was nod along in my shock.  I also have read those dan l’chaf z’chus stories, but I have never thought about what it felt like to be on the other side.  Shaindy could easily have called me in a huff, confronting me with misleading her and possibly leaving her with no carpool.  I could have had someone thinking negatively about me for who knows how long and not even known it, simply because I got creative with my carpools and did something nobody would think of.  Plus, while this was a small thing, if it had been communicated to others it might be enough to brand me as unreliable.  And who wants that? Thankfully, Shaindy had the strength of character to stop herself and take the necessary time to be objective.  Even if she couldn’t come up with a possible explanation, she calmed herself and planned to clarify the facts as they were necessary for her, without accusing anyone of anything.  So there were no hurt feelings or lingering accusations that might sting even after the truth came out.   But it made me wonder–how many people out there are judging me on something they only see the surface of?  And how many people am I judging on those grounds?  My neighbors?  My children?  How many times have I automatically assumed that the child who comes to me crying and complaining is the victim and the kid they complain about must have been wrong?  How many times have I denigrated practices I don’t understand? How much negativity do we spread throughout our lives when it doesn’t need to be there? Pirkay Avos: “Y’hoshua ben P’rachya v’Ni’tie Ha’arbayli kib’lu maihem.  Y’hoshua ben P’rachya omer, …v’hevay dan es kol ha’adam l’chaf z’chus.” “Y’hoshua ben P’rachya and Ni’tie of Arbel received from them.  Y’hoshua ben P’rachya says, “…And judge everyone favorably.” (Perek Aleph, Mishne Vav). The Gemara (Shabbos 127b) relates that if we judge our peers favorably, HaShem, in turn, will judge us favorably.  This saying of Chazal, at first sight, seems difficult to understand.  While it is appropriate for mortals who do not possess complete information to judge a peer’s questionable behavior in the best possible light, how can we say this about HaShem Who is fully aware of every possible rationale and motive for our behavior? This statement may refer to the merit one deserves for judging one’s peer favorably.  In the merit of displaying this difficult character trait of being dan l’chaf z’chus, HaShem will reciprocate by tilting the scales of justice in your favor.  According to this approach, this attribute of judging one’s peer favorably is appreciated by HaShem to such an extent that it alone can ensure a proper advantageous verdict. The mishna not only requires us to judge everyone’s behavior favorably but also assists us in doing so.  ×•×”וי דן את כל האדם לכף זכות–Judge the entire person, kol ha’adam.  Although specific character traits of an individual may be flawed, his overall character can certainly be distinguished.  Instead of focusing on relatively