What could make a group of Jewish professionals – with all the stresses and hassles their busy lives entail – go halfway across the world? If you answered a free 10-day vacation to an exotic location with gorgeous beaches, guess again! Could such a trip be a “bucket-list” item, perhaps? A once-in-a-lifetime African safari jaunt? No, that answer would be incorrect as well. This may have been a once-in-a-lifetime trip, but the payoff wasn’t sand, sun, and fun.

 We all know Jewish men and women, the world over, who will drop anything, at a moment’s notice, and travel to the farthest-flung country to help a Jew or non-Jew in distress, no matter observance level or political ideology. We have seen and continue to see all these wonderful people respond to chaos across the world, when people are at their most vulnerable after a terrible life event, even outside of Eretz Yisrael – places such as Houston, New Orleans, Long Island, New York, India, the Philippines, and many others.

Art Buchwald, the renowned writer/humorist, once remarked, “Whether it’s the best of times or the worst of times, it’s the only time we’ve got.”

How true. Time rolls over us like a runaway train, and here we are again: another Rosh Hashanah, another Yom Kippur – and (lehavdil) another end of the Major League baseball season.

While certainly not in the same category as our High Holy Days, the World Series is an event with universal implications of its own. One year, they intersected in a meaningful way. I can’t help but recall Sandy Koufax and what he meant to American Jews as the baseball player who never forgot his faith. During Game One of the classic 1965 World Series between the Yankees and the Dodgers, Sandy Koufax, one of the greatest pitchers of all time, spent his scheduled turn on the mound not on a baseball diamond but in a synagogue seat. 

Dear Dr. Weisbord,

My daughter, who lives out of town, had a baby recently, and I went to help. I watched her three little boys for many hours. It was the first time I was left alone with them. My oldest grandchild, whom I find difficult to handle, was very chutzpadik to me, fought with his siblings, and did not listen to anything I said.

It happens that the birthdays of all three children were next month. I told him that I would be giving a present to his brothers but not to him because he was misbehaving. This threat did not help, and he continued to misbehave.

I bought birthday presents for the other children and mailed them, but I did not buy one for him. Perhaps I should not have made the threat, but since I did, I felt I had to follow through. Do you think I handled this situation properly? Was I too harsh? Did I overstep my bounds as a grandmother in being the disciplinarian?

In the aftermath of this incident, I am also trying to figure out what my relationship with my grandchildren should be, especially when I am left in charge. How can I be the loving bubby in my grandchildren’s minds?

Needs Bubby Lessons

When I was single, I stayed with my brother and sister-in-law for Yom Kippur every year. They lived next door to a yeshiva, and I much preferred the yeshiva-style davening to the standard synagogue service. While I typically wasn’t the most fervent shul-goer, Yom Kippur was different. I was present when davening started and there when it ended.

I managed to tap into the intensity of the day: the dread of Kol Nidrei, the heartfelt pleas of vidui, the emotion-packed crescendo of the room exploding at the end of Neilah with “Hashem hu ha-Elokim,” and the euphoria of the declaration, “Leshana haba biYerushalayim!”

I was very comfortable in my Yom Kippur routine. Year after year, I sat in the same seat, wearing the same Steve Madden (non-leather) slides, using the same machzor, anticipating the tune that was coming next. As I traveled the familiar and yet always emotional journey that is Yom Kippur, I had the full confidence of knowing that I was exactly where I needed to be in that moment, doing what I needed to be doing. I was in shul. Because that is what you do on Yom Kippur.

Despite the plethora of day schools and yeshivos in the Baltimore-Greater Washington area, not every Jewish elementary, middle, and high school student is fortunate enough to attend a school where he or she can connect with other Jewish students and learn about our heritage. But, thanks to a handful of organizations that are successfully reaching out to these students, many Jewish children are now able to appreciate the beauty of Yiddishkeit in a fun way while forming lasting, meaningful friendships.

Hep JEP

JEP Girls of Maryland, a branch of the national Jewish Education Program, is one of these outreach organizations. Started in 2010 with just four participants, over 450 school-aged Jewish girls, as well as volunteers, have participated in JEP to date. They come from over 40 schools, mostly Baltimore County but also from all across Maryland and even Pennsylvania,

The moon is a beautiful heavenly body that is often mentioned in our prayers. And if you are a shul-goer, you know that, once a month, the gabbai of the shul announces the appearance of the levuneh, the new moon, and the congregation goes outside to welcome it. They chant prayers honoring the moon with blessings and pleading with G-d for a long life of peace, happiness, vigor, sustenance, and honor in this new month – a life dedicated to love of the Torah and the fear of sin. This is called Kiddush Levuneh.

More than a few years ago, the moon was mentioned in a song that many Yidden sang or hummed. The song was “Shayn vee dee Levuneh,” and if you remember the tune to the song, you get a free pass to a geriatric center. If not, you can listen to the Barry Sisters’ version on YouTube. Several other musical groups sang the melody as well. The writers were Joseph Rumshinsky and Chaim Tauzberg, Yiddelach, of course.

“In one era and out the other.” It’s a clever title, no? Unfortunately, I did not think it up. It was the title of a book by humorist Sam Levenson. If you never heard of him, it is a sign of your youth. He was a former school teacher who made a career out of writing funny books comparing the world of his youth to the present. He was writing around the year 1960. That date would encompass the world of my youth! I guess many of us, when we pass a certain age, recall (with varying levels of accuracy) how the world has changed.

* * *

The first president I recall as a child was Dwight David Eisenhower. He was a hero of World War II, married to quiet, dowdy Mamie. General Eisenhower was actually offered the opportunity to run as a Democrat or as a Republican. He chose the latter and brought the party to victory after five Democratic election victories from 1933 to 1952. (Franklin Delano Roosevelt was elected four times but died three months into his fourth term. Truman took over and was elected to a full term.) This was the early 1950s. The country was tired of the Depression and of war – both World War II and the Korean War – and sought a grandfatherly figure who was acceptable to all. I recall that one of the main complaints about his opponent, Adlai Stevenson, was that he was divorced. ‘If a man can’t control his wife, how can he control the country?” was something I heard as a young kid.

During the primary election season just past, we were inundated with talk on the radio, advertising on the internet, and fliers in the mail urging us to vote for this candidate or that. They tried to persuade us that Mr. XYZ is really going to change things and make them better. With the November midterms looming ahead, we can expect more of the same.

Yet, to many of us, the city, state and federal governments are very far away from our day-to-day lives. Our community leaders tell us that it is very important to vote. But does it really matter who is in charge? Do our elected officials or the people who work for them actually care about the problems of a random person in his or her district?

To my great surprise, I found out that they do.

For the past four years, Yonatan Grinberg has been connecting Baltimore’s Torah community with classical music and changing lives for the better. Mr. Grinberg’s fledgling after-school program, Baltimore Bows, has outgrown its space and is now a part of CEMA, the Chamber Encounters Music Academy. CEMA offers music instruction both after and during school hours, teaches at all levels and to all ages, and gives stunning educational concerts at the Gordon Center. As Mr. Grinberg says, “The Baltimore community recognized the many intellectual, emotional, and spiritual benefits of serious music instruction for both children and adults and has been supportive of our growth.”

The support started as soon as the Grinbergs moved to Baltimore. “In many communities, when I tell people I’m a musician, they say, ‘What can you do with that?’ says Mr. Grinberg, “but when I moved to Baltimore they asked, ‘Can you teach my children?’” And with that, Baltimore Bows was launched, in 2014, with only 16 students.

Rabbi Nachman Seltzer’s recent rare U.S. speaking tour, including numerous appearances in Baltimore, presented me with the opportunity to meet one of the most accomplished writers and inspirational speakers in the Torah world today. Rabbi Seltzer has impressively authored 28 books in the past 17 years, in addition to other important pursuits. It was a pleasure to chat with a kindred spirit in this exclusive Where What When interview

Where are you from originally and where do you live now?

I’m originally from Brooklyn. My parents made aliya when I was 14. Presently, my wife and I and our four kids, ka”h – two girls and two boys, aged 16, 15, 12, and 9 – live in Ramat Beit Shemesh.

I understand that you had no formal training in writing. When did you start writing and what was your career path?

I wrote in elementary school, but at age 23 – not having gone to high school or studied writing – I decided to write my first book. One motzei Shabbos, in Har Nof, I said to my mother-in-law, ‘I want to write a book.’ She said, “Here’s a pad of paper and a pen,” and I started writing my first book, The Edge. It was based on a story that a friend told me while I was in kollel about a friend of his. I wrote four pages a day, by hand, for the next three or four months, and then I had a book.