It is not unusual for pulpit rabbis to run from simcha to simcha – literally! Attending a bris, engagement party, and wedding in a single day is par for the course. But on March 9, two Baltimore rabbis rose to a different kind of rabbinical running challenge.

It all began when Rabbi Moshe Hauer, Rav of Bnai Jacob Shaarei Zion, and Rabbi Binyamin Marwick, Rav of Shomrei Emunah, answered the call for “a few good clergymen.” The call was issued by Rabbi Meir Kaniel. The running-enthusiast social worker is the program coordinator of the RabbisCanRun Challenge, which was held for the second consecutive year, this time within the annual 10K Jerusalem Marathon.

A friend asked me what seemed to be a simple question: “How did you find the time to write a book?” I had a 375-page book on the topic of eishes chayil (a woman of valor) on the way to bookstores, and I had posted a snapshot of it for my friends to see.

I wanted to answer, “It was nothing; let me also show you this gorgeous chocolate dessert I whipped up while working on it. Oh, and did I show you the pictures of my boys in their matching outfits?”

Accomplishments are supposed to look easy. But the question struck me. How did I write a book? Me: mother, wife, friend. How did it get done in between Yom Tov cooking, laundry, and siddur plays? The questions sent me on a 14-year nostalgic tour.

One sunny morning I noticed a deer fressing (eating without cessation) the grass in our yard. At that time, I believed that the deer was just passing through the neighborhood, on a goodwill tour, sponsored, perhaps by the local frum deer population. However it appeared that he was looking over the area for future residence. After all, the neighborhood was filling up with shomrei Shabbos (Sabbath observers), families that fed their pets glatt kosher food. Some of the chayess (creatures) that live here were even learning Yiddish! And the deer in this neighborhood have a better chance for survival than other deer because, face it, how many Yidden are hunters? We align ourselves with Yaakov, the student, rather than with Esav, the hunter, right?

Nu, you may remark, dray nisht dehr kopp (stop confusing me). Just continue the tale! Iz azoy (so, it’s like this): 

Thirty-three days following the first day of Pesach, Jews celebrate a “minor” holiday called Lag B’Omer, the 33rd day of the omer. It is an oasis of joy in the midst of the sad sefira period. Yet it contains historic lessons of such great severity that this generation must not only unravel the mystery of Lag B’Omer but will discover that its own fate is wrapped in the crevices of its secrets.

The seven weeks between Pesach and Shavuos are the days of the “counting of the omer,” the harvest festivities that were observed in the Land of Israel when the Beis Hamikdash stood in Yerushalayim. This period should have been a time of joyful anticipation. Having experienced the Exodus from Egypt on Pesach, every Jew literally “counts the days” from the first night of Pesach until Matan Torah, the revelation of Torah at Mt. Sinai that took place on Shavuos, exactly 50 days after the Exodus. While the Exodus marks the physical birth of the Jewish nation ― the Giving of Torah completes the process through the spiritual birth of the Jewish nation.

What’s new at the Kotel? The question seems oxymoronic. The Kotel is, after all, the very definition of “old,” a remnant of antiquity transported into the present. But, far from being an irrelevant curiosity of the past, it is the focal point of the world. For us, the Jewish People, this is no metaphor. But the Wall and its surrounding Yerushalayim are also at the center of contemporary global politics – a perpetual obsession of the UN, Western governments, and the media, which cast relentless and disproportional condemnation at this holy place.

What is new – though perhaps not yet evident – is happening below the surface, like the Kotel’s Tunnels and archeological excavations themselves. As the world comes to the Kotel – one person, one tour group at a time – reverence and love are growing within individuals across the globe who intuit deep meaning in Yerushalayim and the G-d of Israel.

How does one go about arranging an inspiring Shabbos program that brings together Jews from disparate communities who were previously unfamiliar with each other? How is a venue selected that is not too much out of the way for any of the guests? Who should be chosen to serve as baalei tefilah to lead inspiring tefilos? Where should the food come from? And here’s the clincher: Can costs be kept to a minimum to include people living on shoestring budgets, who can’t afford the popular “Shabbos getaways” advertised in glossy magazines? And can walk-ins without reservations be accommodated? One more thing: can the arrival date be the erev Shabbos which is also Shushan Purim?

A rational, logistically-minded person would immediately dismiss these criteria as impossible. But when Divine Will ordains a series of circumstances to fortuitously coalesce, anything can happen. This is the epic story of Shabbos, Parshas Ki Sisah, 16 Adar, 5778 (March 3, 2018) that unfolded in rural northeastern Maryland and environs.

If you’re reading this article, you probably live somewhere in the Baltimore area and you probably like it, and I can understand that. I grew up in Baltimore before moving to Israel, and I have only pleasant memories of that town.

Some people want to come to Israel and come, and some want to but don’t. I would like to suggest a third possibility, whereby you keep your options open and do yourself some good in the meantime. I’m talking about buying a home in Israel.

In plain, realistic terms, I think buying in Israel is a good idea. Whatever your reasons, it makes financial sense. It’s a good investment. The fact is this: The Jewish population is growing, through births and immigration, and sometimes immigrations are large and unexpected. This growth increases demand, raising prices. Likewise, as the country grows, as mass-transit improves, new areas of the country are constantly becoming more attractive. With today’s excellent trains running north-south along the entire coast, the south and north are not as far from the center as they used to be. Jerusalem is about to be 25 minutes from Tel Aviv, thanks to the high-speed train that is nearing completion. The country is getting smaller. The same is true in Judea and Samaria, where I live, which is gradually becoming an accepted part of the country. So prices are rising there as well, but they are still relatively low.

Recently, our community lost a beloved member, Mrs. Sabina Bodenheimer, a”h. Mrs. Bodenheimer came to Baltimore from Venezuela many years ago and married Louis Bodenheimer. She came from a traditional Jewish family but embraced Yiddishkeit here in Baltimore, She was very careful about keeping all the halachos that her husband taught her, and she accepted the troubles in her life with emuna and bitachon (faith). Although the Bodenheimers never had children of their own, they became honorary members of many Baltimore families.

Mrs. Bodenheimer, otherwise known as Sabina, started her “career” of chesed as a babysitter for a number of Baltimore families. She treated the children for whom she babysat like her own. She celebrated their every milestone, and when they outgrew her services, she continued to participate in their lives by attending their bar mitzvas, graduations, and weddings. When the children grew up, they brought their own children to visit “Bubby Bodenheimer.” One mother recalls, “I remember Sabina buying toys for my kids and making chocolate chip cookies. She asked for their pictures and put them on her mantel. Sometimes she took the children for weekends when we went out of town.”

> Melvin J Berman Hebrew Academy has been sponsoring a wonderful chesed event every year for many years now. They have been collecting hair from local donors.
> Zichron Menachem is an organization in Israel that has performed wonderful acts of chesed every day for many years now. They help young cancer patients and their families with every need they may have except for the medical care. This includes providing wigs, free of charge to each child who needs one.

“He doesn’t even know us, but wrote it seems like he knows all of us.”

That was the remarkably insightful response from one of the young adults with severe learning disabilities whom I taught in the late 1960s. We had decided we would write to Brooks Robinson, the great Baltimore Orioles third baseman, as a class project. In the letter, we asked if he would write a letter back wishing all of us good luck in the future. Almost immediately, we received a response to our correspondence.

Brooks will be 81 on May 18, and I wish him every happiness. When we wrote to him, Brooks was a human “Hall of Fame” stat line. Wrapping up his career after 23 years, from 1955 to 1977, the numbers (and Brooks was far more than mere numbers) leaped out at you: 16 All-Star games, 17 Golden Gloves, MVP in 1964, 2,896 games played, 286 home runs, and 1,357 runs batted in.