Chinuch in Jerusalem Comes Full Circle

Chinuch in Yerushalayim Comes Full Circle

For tens of centuries our nation has been mourning the destruction of Yerushalayim, focusing on the churban of the Beis Hamikdash. However, Yerushalayim witnessed another type of churban in the mid-1800s that is barely remembered. Today, when the differences between the Conservative and Reform movements and authentic Torah miSinai are so obvious, it is difficult to understand how formidable were the challenges these aberrations presented to previous generations, not only in Europe and America but in the heart of Yerushalayim. When the Enlightenment was still in its formative stage, and the differences — and dangers — were not yet clearly recognizable, it took the keen perception of our Torah leaders to distinguish truth from falsehood and to wage a fierce battle to preserve the chinuch of our precious children.

Yerushalayim 170 Years Ago

When Harav Shmuel Salant, zt”l, arrived in Yerushalayim in 1841 to join his father-in-law, Harav Zundel Salanter, zt”l, the city’s Ashkenazic community consisted of approximately five hundred Jews.1 Just twenty-eight years before that, some twenty Ashkenazic Jews had fled the plague in Teveria, and ignoring the Ottoman government’s prohibition against Ashkenazic Jews settling in Yerushalayim, had quietly put down roots there. Then, after the devastating earthquake in Tzefas in 1837, Yerushalayim’s Ashkenazic population multiplied dramatically. 

The tiny yishuv struggled to survive. People died of starvation, and hygiene was primitive. Without a proper sewage system, the city’s water cisterns were often contaminated, resulting in plagues that killed many, among them Harav Zundel Salanter. In addition, many older Jews who had come to Yerushalayim to fulfill their dream of being buried on Har Hazeisim subsisted on donations from the community coffers. Job opportunities were scarce, and the chalukah system, in which money from abroad was collected and divided according to country of origin, had not yet been instituted.

Funds that arrived sporadically from abroad were barely sufficient to keep starvation at bay. In those days the poverty was intense, and during the Crimean War (1853-56) the Old Yishuv was basically cut off from outside support.

Although as a whole, both the Ashkenazic and Sephardic communities consisted of G-d-fearing Jews who recognized the importance of limud Torah and strived to elevate themselves spiritually, because of the political upheavals among the ruling Ottomans, earthquakes, plagues, and overriding poverty, the Ashkenazic community had yet to establish a proper educational system. Instead, groups of parents hired private tutors to teach their sons, and since the teachers were paid according to the parents’ financial means, they automatically favored those children whose parents were able to pay more. In today’s terms, the money involved was infinitesimal, amounting, perhaps, to an extra slice of bread a day for the tutor’s family. In nineteenth-century Yerushalayim, however, that extra slice of bread often meant the difference between starvation and survival.

Shortly after his arrival in Eretz Yisrael, Harav Shmuel Salant was appointed Rav of the Ashkenazic community of Yerushalayim. With the assistance of  Harav Yeshaya Bardaki, zt”l, former Rav of Pressburg and one of the leaders of Yerushalayim’s Ashkenazic kehillah, he established the Talmud Torah and Yeshivah Etz Chaim to ensure that all the community’s children, both the poor and the less poor, received a proper Torah education.

The original Etz Chaim cheder was located in the women’s section of the Menachem Tzion synagogue. The two melamdim, Harav Shmuel Moni Zilberman, zt”l, and Harav Yaakov Saphir, zt”l, were both Gedolei Torah who displayed tremendous mesirus nefesh to live in Eretz Yisrael.2 As a young boy of nine, Harav Zilberman had accompanied his uncle on a pilgrimage to Yerushalayim from Europe, and despite all opposition, he insisted on remaining in the Holy City. Taken under the wing of some of the dayanim of the beis din, he grew to become a Gadol baTorah. He later refused the position of chief rabbi of a large European city in favor of teaching young boys in Yerushalayim.

His shiurim were so inspiring that one of the judges on the beis din regularly came upstairs to listen. The beis din’s Rabbanim closely supervised the two melamdim and regularly tested the students. Within a few years, however, the cheder expanded and classes were held in apartments scattered throughout the city, making proper supervision difficult.3

Frankal Comes to Yerushalayim

In 1854 Eliza Herz, one of the leaders of Austria’s Reform movement, sent forty-year-old Ludwig August Frankal-Hochwart to Yerushalayim to open the Lemel School. An ardent Austrian patriot, Herz had established a charity fund in honor of Kaiser Franz Joseph’s birthday. The fund was later used to establish the Lemel School, which they hoped would strengthen diplomatic relations between the kaiser and the sultan. The goal of the school, named after Herz’s recently deceased father, Simon Edler von Lemel, was to “educate Jewish orphans according to a new German innovative schooling system.”

To the poverty-stricken Jews of Yerushalayim, Herz’s vision appeared to be the answer to their dreams. Backed by seemingly unlimited resources, she had the means to provide Yerushalayim’s children with an excellent education, as well as daily hot meals and clothes to replace their rags. Herz’s emissary, Frankal, played the part of a benevolent religious benefactor, concerned for the spiritual as well as physical welfare of the city’s inhabitants. He informed the Jewish leaders in Austria that “in this school, the children will learn from their youth to walk in the ways of the Alm-ghty, to observe His commandments and to love an occupation.”4

Prior to his arrival in Yerushalayim, Frankal distributed his pamphlet “Kol Mevasser”5 among the Jews of Yerushalayim, detailing his plans for the new school. In addition, he convinced the Austrian kaiser and the Turkish sultan of the value of his mission. And truthfully, who could argue against providing children with what he described as an excellent secular and religious education?

Frankal thought he would encounter no opposition from what he assumed to be the poor and uneducated leaders of Yerushalayim’s Jewish community. However, before he arrived, Rabbi Yitzchak Deutsch of Vienna, z”l, a wealthy philanthropist and one of the heads of the Austrian Kollel, sent Yerushalayim’s Rabbanim a letter warning them of Frankal’s true intentions.6

Frankal arrived in Yerushalayim and almost immediately invited the city’s Rabbanim and Chachamim to a meeting to explain how his school would benefit the yishuv. It soon became evident, however, that the Rabbanim were not amenable. “Why is it so difficult for you to approve of the type of school I envision?” he asked them. “Am I doing something illegal?”7

Harav Yeshaya Bardaki responded with characteristic sharpness. “If I understand you correctly, in this ‘school,’ as you have coined it, the children will be studying secular subjects together with Torah. Although there is no prohibition against learning something other than Torah, still, there is reason for us to be wary, for when secular subjects and Torah are studied together, the students tend to view them as being equal. Once one doubts the primacy of Torah, assimilation is not far off. Have we not seen the terrible results of this in Europe, with the emancipation and Haskalah?”8

Harav Bardaki later explained his reasoning. “Outside the Holy Land we were moser nefesh for our children’s chinuch; how much more so in the Holy City must our children be immersed in their limudei kodesh, and anything that will disturb them from that study is considered a sin.” The Ashkenazic Rabbanim subsequently placed the Lemel School in cherem, forbidding G-d-fearing parents to send their children there.9

In his autobiography,10 Rabbi Benzion Yadler, an alumnus of Etz Chaim who received rabbinical ordination from Harav Shmuel Salant and was known as the “Yerushalmi Maggid” because of his amazing oratorical skills, described Frankal’s attempt at deception. “Upon entering and exiting the room, [Frankal] was careful to reverently kiss the mezuzah” and “Frankal donned two sets of tefillin, and opposite his desk was a large sign proclaiming, ‘Shivisi Hashem l’negdi tamid, I set Hashem before me constantly,’ but the scholars of that generation recognized his lowly mission, that he was sent by the leaders of the Enlightenment to destroy Jewish education.”

Actually, the Rabbanim of Yerushalayim had nothing against vocational training. According to the original bylaws of the cheder, students studied the basic Talmud Torah curriculum until bar mitzvah and afterwards were divided according to potential. Yerushalayim’s shoemakers, grocers, and laborers were pious Jews who arose early to learn before davening and concluded their day with a shiur after Maariv. Although the Lemel School claimed to be teaching practical skills, in reality much emphasis was placed on the study of French and German, which in the mid-1800s had no practical application for the city’s Jews.

That same year, 1854, most probably in response to Frankal’s plans for a school that would teach secular subjects in addition to Torah, a permanent building was constructed for Etz Chaim in what was later to be known the Churvah Courtyard. Although nowhere explicitly stated, we can assume that Frankal’s arrival in Yerushalayim was the catalyst that saved Etz Chaim. That’s because after Etz Chaim outgrew the women’s section, classes were scattered throughout the city. Supervision became lax and the school was in danger of closing.11

Interestingly, only after the community’s children were provided with a proper place to learn did construction commence on the magnificent Bais Yaakov Synagogue, later known as the Churvah Synagogue, which was completed eight years later in 1864. This historical fact attests to the priorities of the yishuv’s Rabbanim.12

The Cherem

The cherem against the new Lemel School was officially pronounced on 9 Sivan 5616/1856. Rabbi Benzion Yadler describes his meeting with an elderly Jew who was present at the pronouncement.

“When I was around bar mitzvah age, the cherem was announced in the Beis Medrash Menachem Tzion, located in the ruins of Harav Yehuda Hechassid Synagogue. The shul was packed. The aron kodesh was opened, and black candles were lit. One of the elders of Yerushalayim, Harav Hagaon Yosef Shmuel Hershler, z”l, formerly a Rosh Kollel in Czechoslovakia who immigrated to Chevron and later to Yerushalayim, ascended the bimah and called out with the ferocity of a lion, ‘We are distancing ourselves from that evil congregation.’ The bookshelves were trembling, and the fear was palpable.”

Although the text of the cherem emphasized that it applied only to the Ashkenazic community, several Sefardi Chachamim signed, including Harav Rafael Yedidya Abulafia, zt”l, Rosh Yeshivah of Beit El.

Despite the cherem, the Lemel School officially opened its doors the following month, on 23 Tammuz. Almost all the students were children of foreign consuls. The Haskalah movement was virtually unknown in the Middle East, and therefore most of the Sephardic Chachamim accepted Frankal’s false promises at face value. Yet in those first few years only a few children from their community attended the school.

The Ashkenazic community, however, continued its opposition. Even after Rabbi Zalman Baharan, a talmid chacham known for his constant acts of chessed, was imprisoned for speaking against the school,13 the protests continued. Yehoshua Yellin, z”l, who was present at the opening of the Lemel School, recalls in his memoirs, “People stood outside the school crying, ‘Oy! Woe to us! Help us! There is a fire in the city!’”

A Real Threat

Throughout the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the Jews of Yerushalayim were struggling to survive. With the rise of secular Zionism, it became almost impossible for an Orthodox Jew in Eretz Yisrael to find a job. Almost all doors, except the door to poverty, remained closed, and many succumbed to temptation.

One poignant example of the general movement away from tradition is the testimony of that same elderly Jew who was present when the cherem was pronounced: “My children received a pure Torah education. But they later went away and sent their own children to study in the secular school. I have rebuked them many times, but they do not listen to me. …

“When I asked Harav Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld, zt”l [the Rav of Yerushalayim], what I should do, he replied, ‘Since you’ve done everything possible, you’ve fulfilled your obligation.’ I requested that he put his words into writing, which he did. I instructed my family that after a hundred and twenty years, that note be placed beneath my head.”14

With almost unlimited resources, Frankal’s secular school continued to flourish. In 1903 there was a huge celebration when the school moved into its own spacious building on Yeshayahu Street. In honor of the occasion, Frankal even had a special copper medallion coined. One side depicted a palm tree with the Hebrew words “From the mouths of babes You have created strength,” and on the reverse, the Hebrew words “The school of Shimon from the noblest house of Lemel.”

Meanwhile, the Orthodox community was struggling to survive, and those dedicated to destroying the Lemel School continued protesting.

A Continuing Battle

Despite the cherem, which was not universally supported, and the protests, the Lemel School and secularism in general continued to flourish. By 1930, 550 students were registered in the school, making it the largest grammar school in Yerushalayim.

In the more than a century and half since the cherem was declared, although sweeping social and political changes took place throughout Yerushalayim and what was then known as Palestine, the members of the Old Yishuv continued their attempt to protect themselves from outside influence. Rebbetzin Aidel Tucazinsky, wife of Rabbi Yosef Tucazinsky15 and daughter of the famous Yerushalmi tzaddik Rabbi Gedalia Kenig, z”l, recalls, “When I was growing up in the 1960s, we were severely warned about keeping our distance from the secular schools. We tried never to walk past the Lemel School, and if we had no choice, we’d cross the street.” Rebbetzin Chava Tucazinsky recalls that Harav Nissan Aharon Tucazinsky16 would make a detour to avoid walking between the Edison movie theater, which was open on Shabbos, and the Lemel School.

For many decades, a fierce battle raged in Yerushalayim, a battle for its children’s education, and for many years it appeared that the battle was lost. The general attitude among secular Israelis was that religion was an outdated relic that should be eradicated. Even in Yerushalayim, the majority of children attended secular state schools, and outside of the city the situation was much worse.

Although a large percentage of Old Yishuv residents assimilated into secular society, the dwindling religious community continued to send their children to Etz Chaim. In its more than 170 years of existence, Etz Chaim has produced generations of scholarly laymen in addition to many of our great Torah leaders, including Jerusalem Chief Rabbi Harav Tzvi Pesach Frank; Harav Yaakov Moshe Charlop, Rav of Shaarei Chessed; Harav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, Rosh Yeshivah of Kol Torah and world-renowned posek; and Harav Yisrael Yaakov Fisher, Av Beis Din of the Eidah Hachareidis, zecher tzaddikim livrachah. Other products of the yeshivah, ybl”c, are Harav Yaakov Aryeh Alter, shlita, the Gerrer Rebbe; Harav Yaakov Aryeh Milikowsky, shlita, the Amshinover Rebbe; Harav Yitzchak Dovid Grossman, shlita, Rav of Migdal Ha’emek; and Harav Avraham Yehoshua Soloveitchik, shlita, Rosh Yeshivas Brisk. Many chadarim and yeshivos in Eretz Yisrael are based on the Etz Chaim model, among them Netivos HaTorah in Kiryat Sefer, with over a thousand students, Magen Avos in Tzefas, and Kaminetz.

The Lemel School Comes Full Circle

As for the Lemel School, it closed some forty years ago. In what can only be described as Divine irony, Etz Chaim, the educational system endorsed and headed by Harav Shmuel Salant and the other great Rabbanim of the Old Yishuv, recently purchased the Lemel building and grounds. Renovation plans are under way, and by 2016, b’ezras Hashem, the complex will house the more than 1,500 students students currently enrolled in Etz Chaim’s Yerushalayim-based yeshivos.

The outcome of the Old Yishuv’s opposition to the Lemel School is just one example of the eternity of Torah. And what about the Lemel School graduates? Although many became high-ranking professionals and leaders of secular Israeli society, Frankal’s promise that “in this school, the children will learn from their youth to walk in the ways of the Alm-ghty, to observe His commandments and to love an occupation” was never fulfilled. Hopefully, their descendants are part of the teshuvah revolution taking place in Eretz Yisrael and around the globe. And who knows? Perhaps their children will one day learn in Etz Chaim.

SIDEBARS:

Simon Edler von Lemel

Eliza Herz was the principal financial backer of the Lemel School, which she named after her father, Simon Edler von Lemel, a wealthy Austrian wool merchant and community activist.

Born in Toscho, Bohemia, Lemel was known to all as Zelke Toscho; before 1787, when Austria compelled Jews to adopt German-sounding last names, people used their city of birth in lieu of a family name. Orphaned of his father at an early age, Lemel entered the wholesale wool business, introducing improvements in the method of raising sheep and in manufacturing the wool. By the time he was twenty-one years of age, his wholesale house in Prague ranked among the most important and prosperous businesses in the city.

Strongly patriotic, he risked his entire fortune during the Napoleonic Wars (1803–1815) to provide the government with valuable services. Yet when he requested permission to purchase a house in Vienna, the emperor initially refused to provide him with the special letter of protection that Jews required to reside there. Later that same year, the emperor expressed his gratitude for all that he had done for the Austrian Empire by elevating him to the nobility. He was even given his own coat of arms.

In 1826, when Lemel renovated a Torah breastplate donated by his ancestors in 1763 to the Maisels Synagogue in Prague, he added his coat of arms and the following inscription: “These are the sacred implements that have been donated by my ancestors, of blessed memory. And were renovated by their son, who was formerly called Zelke Toscho, and by the mercy of our lord, the Emperor Franz I, who gave me the title of the noble man of Lämel (Edler von Lämel) [in] the year [5]586/1826.” The Torah breastplate is at present housed in the Jewish Museum of Prague.

In the first chapter of The Autobiography of August Bondi, “Family History,” Bondi recounts, “As he entered the room the emperor called out, ‘Come closer, glad to see you, I love you, Lämel’ (Lemel or Lemele means lamb in the Austrian dialect.) Lämel answered, ‘So your majesty can shear him?’ This so pleased the Emperor that Lämel was thereupon ennobled with the title Simon Edler von Lämel. He was even given his own coat of arms and (finally!) permission to reside in Vienna — where he was barely tolerated. Until 1813, he was forced to quarter soldiers in his private home. (Jews needed a special letter of protection to be permitted to reside in Vienna. In 1811 the small Jewish community was allowed to set aside a prayer room in a house they had purchased. Twelve years later, they were permitted to construct a synagogue.)”

Lemel devoted his life to improving the living conditions of his fellow Jews. In 1817 he succeeded in getting the Bohemian Jews’ taxes reduced, although he personally continued paying full taxes even after moving to Vienna. It was also thanks to him that the “body tax” on Jews was abolished in the German Kingdom of Saxony. Shortly before his death, he tried, without success, to abolish the demeaning and often dangerous medieval “Jewish Oath” that Jews were required to take in European courts of law until the twentieth century.

A New Home for Etz Chaim

Before purchasing the Lemel School grounds, Rabbi Yosef Tucazinksy, member of Etz Chaim's board of directors, traveled to Bnei Brak to ask Harav Chaim Kanievsky, shlita, if it was advisable for Etz Chaim, with its strong roots in the ideology of the Old Yishuv, to establish its permanent premises in a building that for so many years had symbolized the fight against Torah. In Rabbi Tucazinsky’s own words:

When the neighborhoods surrounding Machaneh Yehudah changed drastically and the light rail barred access to our building, the Gedolei Hador instructed us to sell the historical Etz Chaim building on Yaffo Road. We encountered numerous obstacles in our quest to find new premises that would be both centrally located in a religious neighborhood and spacious enough to house our many different educational divisions, as well as provide for future expansion.

I approached Harav Kanievsky with a request for a blessing that Etz Chaim succeed in finding a suitable site. The Rav responded with tremendous warmth, so much so that the other people who were there at the time were surprised at the Rav’s enthusiasm.

I left the Rav’s home positive that things would work out and that we would soon find a suitable location.

When the proposal to purchase the old Lemel School building first came before the board of directors, although the location and spacious grounds made the building perfect for our needs, there was a lot of hesitation due to the building’s history. I told the other members of the board that before discussing the proposal I would ask Harav Kanievsky for daas Torah.

I traveled to Bnei Brak that same night. Once again, Harav Chaim greeted me with extreme warmth. I asked him if an institution such as Etz Chaim could move into a building that had been used to spread apikorsus. He responded that we should make some changes to the structure, and then not concern ourselves with the building’s past. He felt that despite the huge financial outlay, Etz Chaim should purchase the building and surrounding grounds, and gave us his brachah that we succeed in covering all payments.

1. A. R. Malachi, “Lakoros hachalukah b’Yerushalayim,” in Luach Eretz Yisrael, Vol. 15-21 (1909-1916), Vol. 3, edited by Eli Schiller, (Jerusalem: Ariel, 1980) 150-171.

2. Rabbi Y. M. Tucazinsky, Luach Eretz Yisrael, 1904 (Jerusalem: Avraham Moshe Lunz).

3. Ibid.

4. Ben Zion Gat, Hayishuv Hayehudi b’Eretz Yisrael, 1840–1881 (Jerusalem: Yad Yitzchak Ben Tzvi, 1974).

5. Rabbi Akiva Yosef Schlesinger, Maaseh Avos, first published anonymously in 5661/1901 and republished with additions in 5736/1976.

6. Ibid.

7. David Rossoff, Where Heaven Touches Earth (Jerusalem: Guardian Press, 1st edition 1998, revised edition 2001).

8. Ibid.

9. Benzion Yadler, B’Tuv Yerushalayim, ed. Rabbis Betzalel Landau and Aharon Surasky, published by the author’s grandson, Reb Yitzchok Zev Yadler-Goldberg (Bnei Brak: Netzach, 5727/1967).

10. Ibid.

11. Luach Eretz Yisrael, op. cit.

12. Etz Chaim records.

13. Since Frankal had presented the school’s establishment as a step toward strengthening diplomatic relations between the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian empires, opposition to its establishment was considered a crime.

14. B’tuv Yerushalayim, op. cit.

15. Currently on Etz Chaim’s board of directors.

16. The late head of Etz Chaim, who was niftar in January 2012.

More than Another Chumash Seudah

More than Another Chumash Seudah

It was with a mixture of joy and astonishment that I walked through the old metal gate on Rechov Yeshayahu and entered Etz Chaim, Jerusalem's future campus. I was on my way to celebrate the school's 170^th Chumash Seudah, to share the simcha of 42 five- ear-old "bachurels" rejoice as they officially began studying Chumash. Inside the large auditorium, the music was playing loudly as each group of excited youngsters tried to contain their giggles while taking their place on the podium.

Although over the years I had attended at least half a dozen Chumash seudos, this was probably the first time I was attending not as a mother or grandmother, but as a member of the Etz Chaim staff. Over the course of the last several years, a large number of English speaking parents started sending their children to Etz Chaim, Jerusalem, and the administration felt that it was important to have a native English speaker in the office to take care of all the English language correspondence – in other words, an English speaking secretary.  And of course, after having felt the mounting excitement and taken a part in many of the preparations, how could I not be there for this momentous occasion?

But this Chumash seudah really was special –because, in the most poignant way possible it symbolized the victory of Torah education in Eretz Yisrael. But to understand why, let me explain a bit of the history behind Etz Chaim's future campus and for that, I'll have to go back to 1841, when Rabbi Shmuel Salant, chief rabbi of Jerusalem for over 70 years, established the first Torah school in Jerusalem, Etz Chaim, a school that reflected the values of the Yishuv Hayashan -- holiness and spiritual elevation.

Just thirteen years later, in 1854, followers of the haskalah movement in Vienna sent Ludwig August Ritter von Frankal – a physician, poet, educator and follower of Zecharia Frankel, founder of the Conservative Movement --  to establish a secular school in the Holy City. Shortly before the planned opening of Frankal's school – the Lemmel School - Rav Shmuel Salant led all the Ashkenazi Rabbonim of the city and many of the Sefardi Chachamim in making a cherem against the new school.

For over 110 years, the two educational systems -- Etz Chaim and Lemmel -- battled for the neshomos of Jerusalem's children. Although at every opportunity, the cherem was reiterated by the Rabbonim of Etz Chaim and the Yishuv Hayashan, Lemmel continued to grow in popularity until it became the largest school in Jerusalem.

The growth of the Lemmel School was a reflection of the general direction of the country, and, for that matter, the entire world. People assumed that Israel would soon become a completely secular state and that within a generation or two, Torah true Judaism would dwindle until it vanished. An interesting anecdote, a friend of my husband's, a German Jew who arrived in Israel after during the British Mandate, recalls his first Kiddush Levana in Tel Aviv. One of the men commented, "You know, this might be the very last Kiddush Levana to be recited in Eretz Yisrael."

Because of the cherem and all that the Lemmel School symbolized, the Jews of the Old Yishuv were particular to avoid all contact with it. People refrained from even walking past the building, and if there was no choice, they made a point of crossing to the opposite side of the street.  

Yet, amazingly enough, despite all predictions, the Torah community, both in Jerusalem and around the world, blossomed. Today, the overwhelming majority of Jerusalem's children attend Orthodox schools, and each year, those numbers increase, whereas around the world there are frum Jewish communities in places that no one dreamed there would be one. And that brings us back to why this particular Chumash seudah symbolizes the triumph, and eternity, of Torah. Last year Etz Chaim had to leave its historic campus on Yaffo Road. After consulting with Harav Hagaon Rabbi Chaim Kenievsky shlita, and receiving his warm bracha for hatzlacha, Etz Chaim used the money from the sale of the old school to purchase the Lemmel Campus on Yeshayahu Street.

The school that broached Jerusalem's walls of kedushah and led the fight against Etz Chaim and Torah education in Israel will now become Etz Chaim's new home – another example of the eternity of Torah.

Is it no wonder that I could not possibly miss this Chumash seudah?

An amazing video about Jerusalem

This is my first attempt at producing a video. There's some amazing footage of Jerusalem, and of the people living in our Holy City.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WgHWPeVd5_Q&feature=youtu.be

Sunglasses Day

Sunglasses Day

As told to Debbie Shapiro

This was published in Binah, April 24, 2012.

Yocheved was speaking rapidly, intently. Her husband Zev was looking directly at her, nodding at her words. It was obvious that he was reliving the experience.  And as they so eloquently expressed their pain upon losing their newborn, I felt the tears well in my eyes, for I, too, had undergone a similar experience. Losing a child is something one never forgets — ever.

A few weeks prior to meeting Yocheved and Zev Kaufman, I opened my inbox to find an email from a young couple living in a small out-of-town community. "Would you be interested in writing our story?" the email began.  "Our son was born at the beginning of October and was niftar a week later, on the day after Yom Kippur. We were aware that he would be born with serious health issues and had prepared ourselves both emotionally and spiritually to accept that he may not make it. But although we are both coping, at times it is still quite difficult. We would like you to write about what we went though, so that our story will help others going through a similar nisayon."

From our subsequent exchange of emails, I imagined the Kaufmans to be both sensitive and vivacious, and I was not wrong. As I sat at my kitchen table, drinking coffee and listening to their story, I was awed at their capacity to develop such a deep love for a baby they barely knew, as well as their ability to overcome their pain to openly express that love.

Text:

Yocheved

It was almost as if my sister had a premonition that something was not right. That morning, when I mentioned to her that I had an appointment with my obstetrician, she asked me if my husband would be accompanying me. I thought it was a strange question. This was my sixth pregnancy. I knew the ropes. I certainly didn't need emotional support.

The doctor’s checkup seemed to take longer than usual, and when she completed the exam, she uncomfortably cleared her throat and told me that the baby had serious medical issues. I'm usually a very stoic person, but when the doctor said, "Your baby is probably not compatible with life,” I burst into tears. And then I called my husband.

Zev

At first, all I could hear was crying. Then, between her sobs, Yocheved somehow managed to tell me that something was wrong with our baby.  I was in a state of shock. I remember driving to the clinic on automatic, feeling that I was in some type of reality warp.

Yocheved

 The technician brought me to what's called the “Quiet Room” – a small room to the side, with a sofa and a prominently displayed box of tissues. I was numb. Things like this aren't supposed to happen to young couples like us! We’d had our ups and downs like everyone else, but never a challenge of this magnitude. We left the doctor's office in a daze. Although in reality nothing had changed, we were now aware that there was an ominous gray cloud on the horizon, and we were petrified.

Over the next weeks, I underwent many different tests. They all verified that our baby's kidneys were not functioning. The prognosis was unanimous: without kidneys to rid its blood of toxic waste, our baby would die shortly after birth.

My husband and I chose not to tell anyone, including our families and closest friends. At night, when the house was quiet, we would stay up half the night, sharing our worries. We supported each other as our initial shock changed to grief, and finally, to acceptance.  We discussed every aspect of the challenge – from how and when to break the news to the children, to whether I'd light an additional Shabbos candle for this baby's neshamah. There were halachic questions as well, which we discussed with our rabbanim.

I put on a good show, pretending to be a radiant young mother looking forward to welcoming a new addition to the family. Each morning before leaving the house to drive the children to school, I would carefully comb my sheitel and spend a few minutes making sure that my clothes were just right. To everyone else, I appeared to have not a care in the world. No one could have guessed what was going on inside. But alone in the car, I would suddenly burst into tears. To conceal my red rimmed eyes, I started wearing sunglasses, even on dark, stormy days. I'm sure that people thought I was a bit strange!

Eventually, I decided to confide in a friend, Miri, who had gone through a similar nisayon. She was amazingly supportive. After that, a day didn't go by without Miri getting in touch with me. Her friendship and support gave me tremendous chizuk — just knowing that she was always there for me made a huge difference in my life.

Miri: You looked really good today. Hope you had a good day
Yocheved: Glad to hear. But I feel absolutely awful and had a terrible day. I can't stop crying. Don't even know why.

Miri: So why don't you call me? If you want to come over tonight, I'm more than happy to spend time with you.
Yocheved: What's a good time?
Miri: Whenever you want. You're always welcome.

 Yocheved: Went to the chiropractor this morning, and as I was lying there in agony, she said, "At least the prize at the end is all worth it.”
Miri: That must have been horrible. And you probably smiled through it.
Yocheved: Of course.

Later on in the pregnancy, a new series of tests showed that the baby had minimal kidney function, which gave us hope for his survival. "But," the doctors warned us, "if the baby does survive, he will need multiple surgeries and hours of intense therapy to be able to function properly."

Our heads were spinning. All of a sudden, the ominous cloud in the horizon had changed form. We had come to terms with the idea of returning home with empty hands. Now we had to accept the possibility that I'd be bringing home a very sick baby and that the pattern of our lives would change forever. Although it was a ray of hope – our baby might live and we were ecstatic – we had prepared ourselves for one reality, and now that it had changed, we had to adjust our way of thinking.

 I was due to give birth on Erev Sukkos. To ensure that the pediatric medical staff would be available for my birth, I was scheduled to deliver right after Rosh Hashanah. During the month of Elul, I prepared dozens of precooked meals and stocked up on staples. I felt as if I was preparing for a war.

Yocheved: Eighteen chicken rolls, ten kokosh cakes, seven containers of letcho, three containers of mushroom sauce, two trays of corned beef, and two ice cream bases. I'm falling off my feet now. Now I just have to clean up the mess, make the lunches, and I'm off to sleep. No more room in the freezer!
Miri: You're incredible. Tomorrow, you can come and cook for me!

Miri: I saw you today. Are you okay? Should I ignore the sunglasses?

Yocheved: I can be fine one minute and in tears the next, so I try not to go anywhere without them.
Miri: That is all part of being “normal”.

Yocheved: Baruch Hashem I had a good Shabbos. Four weeks to go...
Miri: Happy to hear that Shabbos was good. You will be okay, iy"H. I am keeping tabs on countdown and am sure that despite everything you will have nachas from him iy"H.

Yocheved: This baby is on my mind every second of every minute. Can't stop thinking about it; I guess ’cuz it's getting closer.

Rosh Hashanah was an amazing experience. Every act and every tefillah took on a new intensity. As I lit the Yom Tov candles, I wondered where I'd be the following week. Life death — it was all intertwined, all so vivid. "Mi yichyeh, mi yamus — Who will live, who will die." The words were so real. As the cloud drew closer, I knew that whatever happened, I would be able to cope. Hashem is the Judge and His judgment is perfect.

Miri: Most mothers become mothers when they give birth. But you've done so much for him already...And really, call me on my cell tomorrow night if you need to. I'll be there for you.
Yocheved: As much as I am terrified, a small part of me is excited to finally see this baby.

The night before I was due to give birth, we sat down our two eldest children and told them that I was going to have the baby tomorrow, but it is likely the baby will be very sick and may not even survive. It was heart wrenching to watch their bitter disappointment, but we did our best to explain that although we cannot understand everything, we know Hashem does everything for the best.

During the birth, my husband spoke for both of us when he said, “I feel like we’re in a courtroom and the sentence is about to be handed down.” After the baby was born, when the team of six neonatal specialists entered the room, I burst into tears. With their presence, I couldn't delude myself into imagining that everything was normal.

The baby – my sweet little child — cried heartily at birth. He appeared to be so incredibly perfect; so alert. I was sure that the doctors had made a mistake or that it had all been nothing more than a bad dream. The doctor handed him to me and for a few precious seconds, I cuddled my newborn. And then they whisked him away.  

Zev

I went upstairs to the neonatal unit with the baby, while a friend stayed with my wife. After a battery of tests, the doctors confirmed that there probably was little or no kidney function. Without functioning kidneys, the wastes would slowly poison his body. The doctors predicted that he would die within a few days.   

Yocheved

 Zev returned from the neonatal unit and gently told me that it didn’t look like we'd be taking our baby home. It was like a stab in the heart. I so much wanted to take my baby home.

Because we knew that our time was so limited, we wanted to bond with our son as much as possible; to convey our intense love to this precious neshamah that we had been granted for such a short time. I spent the next few days cuddling my beautiful son. His tiny hand would grasp my finger while he gazed intensely into my eyes with the otherworldly gaze of a newborn. It was a very powerful time for all of us. Medically, there was nothing we could do for him. He was totally in Hashem's hands, and that, too, was comforting.

Yocheved: I emailed you a picture of the baby.

Miri: I think you are so smart to enjoy every moment with your baby. Looking back, you will know that you made the most of it. And really, all the people we care about aren't here forever. We have to appreciate whatever time we have. He really is beautiful. Amidst the hardship, there is what to enjoy. I am in awe of you.

As per our Rav's instructions, we named our baby Refoel. Now he had an identity, and a name that we and others could daven for.

Our parents and siblings looked after our other children. They shuttled back and forth from the hospital all week to bring us clothing and food or just to be there with us at our baby’s bedside at this trying time. We decided to let our two eldest children come and see the baby. They each got a turn to hold and kiss him. I think it was very therapeutic for them.

My husband did not leave me the entire week. Then, after five days, on Erev Yom Kippur, he left the hospital to get organized for Yom Tov. While he was gone, the doctor informed me that according to that morning's blood test, Refoel had only a few more hours to live.  I immediately phoned my husband. He rushed back to the hospital. Together with our baby, we were transferred to a “quiet room,” which had everything we might need to feel comfortable during this very difficult, yet, incredible as this might sound, spiritual time.

Miri: Do you want to talk? I'm thinking of you, davening for you. I feel as though I am in the room with you.
Yocheved: I feel that Hashem is with us.
Miri: Hashem is definitely with you. You will feel Him like never before. The baby must be so peaceful and beautiful. Treasure the moments with your precious boy. We are davening for you to have the strength to get through this Yom Tov. Give the baby a kiss.
Yocheved: Thanks for everything, Miri. Fast well.

The nurses – the entire staff, actually — were amazing; so kind and compassionate. And despite the doctor's prognosis, the baby survived the day.

A few hours before Yom Kippur, our parents came in to the hospital to visit. My father and father-in-law both bentched us and the baby. There was not a dry eye in the room.

The nurses managed to find two candles for me to light. Late that afternoon, as I lit the candles to usher in Shabbos and Yom Kippur, I couldn't help but wonder which would survive longer — my baby or the candles? But the baby survived for another two days. Yom Kippur was on Shabbos; he was niftar on Sunday night.

My husband's shul hosted a shalom zachor for the baby. Our eldest son prepared little containers of sweet smelling spices, which were passed around in lieu of food. My precious Refoel kept one Shabbos and fasted one Yom Kippur (he received nourishment intravenously) before departing from this world.

I cuddled my baby from Friday morning until Motzoei Yom Kippur. My husband remained with me over Yom Kippur, davening the Yom Kippur tefillos in our private room. When he finished Kol Nidrei, he stood in his tallis and recited the brachah of Shehecheyanu, thanking He Who has sustained us to this day.

Between the tefillos, my husband sang to the baby. We spoke to him and asked him to daven for people in need of yeshuos when he returns to the World of Truth. The day was long, but we were just happy to spend every extra hour we could with our baby. We watched the sun set, and as we davened Neilah, the words “pesach lanu shaar — open a gate for us," took on a new meaning. The atmosphere was surreal. Motzoei Yom Kippur came and Refoel was still hanging on to life.

Yocheved: Still holding him. He's hanging in there. I haven't slept. Not sure how long this will go on for.
Miri: You are doing everything that you possibly can for this baby. It's really incredible. Hashem will give you the strength you need, and you will be rewarded for all the pain you are going through. Do you have food?

Yocheved: Yes.
Miri: Good. Take care of yourself.

Yocheved: Did you say you were making mashed potatoes?
Miri: Yes. Do you want some? I would be honored.

On Motzoei Yom Kippur, a few men from our community came to take turns holding the baby. For the first time in over 36 hours, my husband and I were able to lie down. Everyone was incredibly supportive. People I barely knew were texting me words of chizuk and sending us whatever we could possibly need. The hospital staff could not help but notice and it was a tremendous kiddush Hashem.

Yocheved: We bathed the baby and dressed him. The nurses removed the oxygen, which makes it easier to cuddle him. Now he is sleeping in my arms.
Miri: That sounds so peaceful... What do the doctors predict?
Yocheved: They can't predict. I guess we just have to wait and enjoy every minute, and when his time is up, it's up.

Yocheved: I am getting more attached to the baby every minute, and I am so scared of letting go.

In the end, our baby died peacefully in my arms. He just stopped breathing and after a few long minutes, it became obvious that he was gone.  There was no panic, no gasping theatrics, just a realization that he was no longer with us. We didn't tell the hospital staff; we didn't want them to touch the meis. Instead, we called the chevrah kaddisha. The man from the chevrah kaddisha was crying as he took the baby from my arms and placed him on the sofa. Then he called one of the doctors on duty to issue the death certificate. The doctor was very young and inexperienced and this was obviously the first time that he had been asked to verify a death. He was shaking, and we tried our best to calm him.

And then it was over. We packed up our belongings and returned home.

Yocheved: It's over. We are on our way home and I want to sleep for a few days.

It was one o'clock in the morning. The streets were dark and empty. My arms were empty, and I felt the emptiness with a painful intensity.  Yet I was at peace with what had happened. I knew that there was a reason that this neshamah had come down to this world, and we felt that it was a zechus to have given Refoel this opportunity.

But still, the pain was a wrenching, almost physical.

Yocheved: Cried myself to sleep last night. And this weather is so depressing...My cleaning lady can't stop crying. She came in today, all excited, with a beautiful baby present. I probably should have let her know.
Miri: What a pain to have to deal with this on top of everything else. Think of Malky. She's super excited to be home with you. And the sun is shining.
Yocheved: I'm having problems sleeping. I'm so tired, but my mind is racing.

Miri: Have not heard from you today. Are you okay?
Yocheved: I'm okay. It's much harder now that everyone is going on with their normal lives, and I feel this emptiness. I think I was numb for the first week, but now the pain is even stronger. I used half a box of tissues last night while I looked at his photo album and my eyes are all puffy today. Definitely a sunglasses day...

After the baby died, my husband asked me, “If you could, would you just erase the last few months of your life?” My answer was clear: “Definitely not.” As challenging as the experience was, we also grew tremendously from the ordeal.

The entire experience was all so surreal: a little neshamah coming down to the world for one week, meriting to keep a Shabbos and fast a Yom Kippur, and then to have his bris and be buried on the eighth day. I have no doubt that Refoel, z"l, accomplished whatever he was sent here to do.

I am happy to be contacted by others going through similar experiences. You are welcome to email yomkippurbaby@gmail.com.

Staying on Ball at the Gym

Staying On Ball at the Gym

----Are gyms really healthy?

By Debbie Levine

It happened so suddenly that I had no idea what hit me, or to be more accurate, what I had hit. I found myself lying flat on the floor and   my head felt as if it was exploding. Crouched at my side a woman who looked vaguely familiar was persistently asking me my name.

"Debbie. Debbie Levine," I finally answered.

"Okay, your fine. Everything's fine. Nothing happened."

But I didn't feel fine; all I wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. Instead, this nudnik kept on talking to me as she commanded me to stand up and walk to the closest chair.

My legs felt wobbly; the room was spinning, but somehow, I managed to take a few steps and collapse into the reclining seat of the shoulder press machine.

Slowly, I began recollecting the events of the last few minutes. I had been sitting on a stability ball,  bouncing up and down before moving to the next station in the circular workout, when the ball exploded with, as the ladies later told me,  there was an enormous boom that sounded as if a bomb had gone off, sending me flying backwards, straight onto my head.

The gym instructor kept on insisting that I was fine, and that I should go home to rest. I was frightened, very confused, and felt that I needed an ambulance, but felt ridiculous asking for one. After all, I was perfectly okay, right?  Instead, I asked one of the women exercising there to drive me to my HMO's out-of-hours emergency clinic.  The receptionist took one look at me, called the nurse, and within minutes I was hustled into an ambulance, on my way to Hadassah Hospital – sirens and all.

Hmmm… and I thought I was doing something good for my health by joining a gym.

The truth is, stability balls almost never explode. They're designed for people to exercise on, and if properly cared for, can hold up to 300 pounds. And even though I ended up suffering a concussion and had to spend close to a month resting before I returned to normal, the doctors and nurses in the emergency room kept on admonishing me not to let this accident keep me from going to the gym.

They may be right, but after this incident, I doubt I'll never use one of those balls again!

ADVANTAGES OF A GYM

The medical staff had good reason for urging me to return to my regular exercise. A lot has been written about the importance of regular exercise – it helps us to stay healthy, lowers blood pressure, keep blood sugar in line, and have more energy. But as anyone who's tried to stick to an exercise regime (or a diet, for that matter) soon discover that although intellectually we understand the importance of regular exercise, actually getting down to the nitty-gritty and doing it is another matter -- which is part of the psychology behind joining a gym. It's similar to purchasing lunch at an all-you-can-eat smorgasbord -- even if you're not really hungry, you'll make sure to eat, because, by golly, you've paid for it!

"It's also a lot safer to exercise at a gym than at home," points out Mrs. R., a former gym owner. "What happened to you was really freak accident  -- this is the first time that I've heard of a stability ball exploding --  and it could have just as easily happened elsewhere. In the over ten years that I operated a gym, we had only two accidents – one time a woman fell of a step, and another time a woman started peddling the stationary bike before her foot was properly positioned – and there were hundreds of women using the equipment each day. On the other hand, every night I see dozens of woman power-walking on the hard pavement without realizing the damage this can cause to their knees. But the gym equivalent of a power-walk – the tread wheel – is designed to be easy on the body and minimize wear and tear. In addition, all gyms are supposed to have a qualified instructor available to provide guidance and make sure that the machines are being used properly. Don't forget, at the gym, you're exercising under professional supervision, and that's something that you'll never have at home!"

"There's also the social factor," points out Mrs. Devorah Shapiro, a grandmother many times over who tries– but doesn't always succeed – in attending three 45 minute classes at the gym each week. "Since the classes I attend our aimed mainly of older women, we spend a lot of time working on balance, a skill that is important in preventing falls. Sometimes I'm really amazed at the things I've learned to do, and I would have never done it on my own. But because I'm in a group with other women, we laugh a lot as we urge each other along.   The friendships that I've developed there continue even after the class is over. Sometimes," she chuckles, "we even go out for coffee and a pastry after our exercise class." (Hmmm… that's one danger that I didn't even consider when I started researching this article).

SO WHAT'S THE CATCH?

So what's the catch? Well, for one, gyms cost money. Many gyms charge a $50-100 registration fee, plus a monthly membership fee of anywhere from $50 to $100, with a minimum one year commitment. Although it's an incentive for taking advantage of the service, too often, people join with the best of intentions, but are unable to continue for a multitude of reasons from "boredom," to a change in career plans that clash with the hours that the gym are open, to (believe it or not) the gym changing its schedule.

"I joined a gym that was located just down the block from my office," begins Naomi Siegel, "because it was convenient, and I could stop in there on my way home from week. Then the gym cut its hours and is closed from 1:30 to 5:00 in the afternoon, well I finish work at 2:00. But because signed up for the entire year, I'm still paying my monthly fee, even though I almost never am able to take advantage of the service."

Less professional gyms may try to cut costs by hiring instructors or managers who are lacking proper training. A certified gym instructor understand the human body, and will know when to caution exuberant exercisers to take it easy, or give them tips on how to do things according to their own abilities. The elderly Mrs. Shapiro praises her exercise teacher: "Our Pilates teacher is amazing. She knows each of personally, and modifies the exercise according to our capabilities, so that we end up stretching ourselves, without overextending ourselves. It's really an art. But one time I attended a class where the teacher literally pushed us to the point of exhaustion. It took me a few days to recover, and, of course, I never went back to that class."

Over-exercising can be a real problem. I recently met a woman who caused serious injury to her back because, in her desire to "get back to herself," right after having a baby, she spent over an hour each day peddling the stationary bike at the gym, when she really should have been at home, recovering from birth and caring for her newborn.

And that brings us to the more serious problem of spending time in what often can only be described as a Hellenistic environment. Yes, it's a mitzvah to take care of our health, after all, it's a gift from Hashem that enables us to do the things that are truly important in life. But the atmosphere at many gyms -- from a language that insinuates body worship (body sculpture!) to loud, secular jungle-type music, lends itself to making the tefel as the ikar and can become spiritually dangerous.

THE PROFESSIONALS SPEAK

Although anyone can purchase a few exercise machines and equipment, it takes a real health professional to run a gym properly.

Sara Meta, an ACE certified instructor and personal trainer who specializes in mobility and balance, had this to say about stability balls:  "Because a stability ball is an unstable surface, the core muscles, which are basically the muscles in the lower back, the abdominals, the gluteals (Sarah, this is how it's spelled, according to Meta)and the hip flexors, are constantly adjusting to maintain stability, sitting on a stability ball is of itself excellent exercise."

The following words left me speechless: "To prevent stress related injury, it's important to match the ball to the height of the person using it. When sitting, the knees should be at a perfect 90' angle, level with the hips, and the feet should be kept flat on the floor."

Although I have attended several different classes where we exercised while sitting on stability ball, none of the instructors had ever mentioned this point. 

Sara points out the disadvantages of exercise machines: "Machines stabilize the body during exercise, so although they develop muscle, they don't train a person to use those muscles in real life. A person can strengthen his arm muscles with a machine, but he still needs to learn how to properly align his back be able to lift groceries without hurting himself."

Any tips about working out at the gym?

"Go for quality rather than quantity," she begins. "That means fewer repetitions, but with proper form. Treadmills are great for cardio strength, and certainly much less stressful for the body than walking on pavement. But if you feel joint pain, STOP! Overdoing it can result in injury."  

Ruchie Herbst is Supervisor of the women’s division at the YVY Fitness Center and formerly an Aquatics Director for at various girl's camps in the Catskills. She is an American Red Cross certified Lifeguarding Instructor, Swimming Instructor and is a designated American Red Cross WSI Trainer.

So what should one look for in choosing a gym? I asked Ruchie "Look for a clean, modern facility, where the employees are licensed and required to undergo regular training.  Some positive signs: a cleaning staff that is highly visible, equipment is regularly repaired and maintained; the availability of customized lessons, friendly employees, and a general sense of camaraderie."

Ruchie points out, "Most gym accidents are preventable and people need to follow standard precautions. Don't exercise on an empty stomach first thing in the morning, or immediately after a meal. Stay hydrated while exercising. Don't overexert yourself to the point of exhaustion. If you're dizzy, nauseous, have blurred vision, feel faint, or feel pain in the back or joints, STOP exercising; if the symptoms continue, tell a gym employee. Always follow instructions. For example, shut off the treadmill after use and wear appropriate footgear.

"It's important that professional trainers are available and can be seen walking around the gym. At Yeled VYalda Fitness Center, a certified Personal Trainer orients the members in proper use of the equipment.  Orientations are conducted monthly and are mandatory for all members. "

What about all the papers the gyms require its members to sign? After I was propelled off the ball, I reread my gym membership contract and was surprised to read that the gym is not liable for anything – including death (gulp).

Mrs. R., points out that "the forms that you signed are pretty standard, and all gyms that I am familiar with use similar forms. But at the same time gyms are required to have insurance, which means that if an accident does occur, the insurance company will be the one paying for any damages, and not the gym owner. So despite the forms, a responsible gym will accept responsibility for injury."

BE AN EDUCATED CONSUMER

As I learned the hard way, it's important to be an educated consumer when choosing a gym, or exercise class, or even hiring a personal trainer. Don't be afraid to ask questions. Are the instructors and people running the gym trained? Was it just a one day in-house training, or did they get professional certification? If they are professionally certified, where did they study and are they constantly upgrading their certification? What about emergency training? The gym is there to provide us with a service, and we have the responsibility to make an educated choice.