Dear friends,

I love this week’s parshah. Three is something about the ladder dream that evokes the deepest and most profound longings for seeing the flow of Hashem’s will and human choice meet. There are many ways to phrase this; “An awaking from below draws down an awaking from Above”. Tefillah goes up, and salvation comes down”’, Distancing from Hashem goes up, and exile comes down”. The message is that the relationship between Hashem’s unknowable infinity and His compassion and our deeds and longings is real.

When I was growing up, was an avid reader (probably because being an only child is so boring), and the theme of book after book was that it’s No One’s Fault. If people were mistreated, they inevitably would become enraged and explode with violence. The only other option open to the mistreated folks who could do no wrong, was servile mindlessness passivity. From Upton Sinclair’s lurid portrayal of the meat factories (the option the workers chose was passivity and despair) the pro-violence protest books, the theme of blamelessness was engraved in cement. Soul on Ice (the option there was shall we say more active…) in the more sophisticated books, the victims of the victims and even the oppressors all had something in common. Absolute absence of real accountability or recognizing the consequences of their choices.

In Bais Yaakov, I heard an entirely different narrative. It was a given that you have choices to make. Ramban told us astounded juniors in BY High that the main focus of the entire book of Breishis to inform you of the consequence of choices that you make.

No. Adam didn’t need therapy; he needed more humility and more awe of the One who made him; he needed to listen to Hashem’s word. The generation of the flood were not innocent lost flower children, victims of their times. They were accountable. They turned into a generation of exploiters whose desires redefined what being a human is all about. The folks who built a tower had created a human centered world, (much as the Greeks tried to do thousands of years later) were accountable for treating Hashem is a competitor.
People made other choices. Avraham chose both knowing G-d and walking in His ways. Sara, who was one of the worlds’ most beautiful women, chose modesty and restraint. Yitzchak chose devotion even when that would mean extinguishing the “I”. RIvka chose to be whatever her depraved family wasn’t. Then the story gets more complicated.

When you look at Yaakov and Eisov the old determinism raises its head. How much choice did either of them really have? Why Yaakov’s greatness should be credited to him when it was inherent. Why Eisov should be held accountable for being what was so clearly the logical outcome of his most essential nature. Yes there were choices.

Many of you are familiar with the concept (mentioned by Ramban) that we know what Eisov looked like because unlike the way things usually play out, he was what he looked like he was. “Red” passionate, fiery. “Hairy” ready to absorb whatever his senses told him would give him pleasure. You also may have heard that the other person thus described was King David, who had all of the same proclivities but he used them positively. He was a warrior, but fought against evil. He was passionate, so he wrote Tehillim. There still may be a small voice that tells you that some paths are easier than others.

The sages say (Makkos 9) that “The way a person wants to walk is the way they lead him.” What this means is that if you find someone doing the kind of deeds that leave you breathless with their beauty (think of Moshe, who could have lived the life of an Egyptian prince) choosing to live the kind of life he lived. His story includes Pharaoh’s daughter, who saved him for certain death. Was she just in the right time in the right place? It was what she really wanted, and Hashem took her to where she wanted to be.

Maharshah (Rav SHmuel Edel’s 1555-1631, one of the greatest analytic minds when it comes to grasping the aggadic sections of the Talmud as well at the more studied sections. He was also a great scholar known for his analysis of Rashi and Tosephos.) Adds a crucial thought that changes (at least for me) the entire picture. He asks, “Who is the “they” in the statement made by the sages. Wouldn’t it flow better if it said, “The way a man wants to go, and He leads him”? They, he explains, can only be understood when you understand the huge effect your choices have on the person that you decide to be. Whenever you make a choice to do a good deed, the story doesn’t end there. You created a “good angel”, a positive force that will come down as a result of what you have chosen to do. The same thing takes place in reverse when you make a bad choice. It doesn’t end with the moment or with you.

When you want to make something of yourself, all of your positive choices will lead you to being where you want to be at the end of your story. Your “angels” ascend the ladder, and the angels that Hashem sends down will give you the strength to evolve as the person that you want to be.

What does that mean for you?

It means that your small choices are important. That your deeds may not seem impressive when you look at each one individually, but they have enormous force. They lead you to the next choice, and the next one. Each of you has her own definition of “small choice”.

The Maharsha’s mother in law was a wealthy woman. Instead using her wealth to live a life of luxury, she chose to maintain her son-in-law’s yeshiva for twenty years. He used her name (Edel) as his own last name. Did she know that almost every addition of the Talmud would have her son in law’s comments included? Of course not. The deeds she did took her where she wanted to go.

Love,
Tziporah
​

Dear friends, 
You may remember that as I ended last week’s letter, I left you in Bnei Brak. The Shabbos I spent there with my Bnos Avigail girls was so meaningful that I wanted to save it and the best way to do that is to share it. 
I wrote about what Friday night was like, and here is a bit more about how the rest of Shabbos was.
Most of the girls got up before dawn to daven in the famed Lederman synagogue on Rashbam Street. They woke the sun up in order to daven with Rav Chaim Kanievsky. This time he was himself, in his normal habitat, not surrounded by the paparazzi and security men who had been part of his entourage when they saw him on Friday. Born in 1928 to his father Rav Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky who was known the Steipler (he came from Honosteipel), Rav Chaim is the closest we have to true Jewish royalty. His mother was the sister of Rav Karelitz, and the shidduch between his parents was made by no less than the Chazon Ish, the leader of Israel’s yeshivah community who “just happened” to be the bride’s brother. Rav Chaim followed his great father’s footsteps. He too married into one of the most renowned families. His bride’s father was Rav Elyashiv, the great halachac decisor, and her mother was Rav Aryeh Levine’s daughter. The bride herself was a personality in her own right, and was a source of inspiration to thousands of women who turned to her for blessings, advice, and the warmth of her bigger than life personality. 
Rav Chaim is an uncanny Talmudic phenomenon and considered by most to be our generation's greatest scholar. Rabbi Chaim Kanievsky receives literally hundreds of queries in person and in the mail every single week from every corner of the globe in every topic under the sun. Every Erev Passover Rabbi Kanievsky makes a festive meal celebrating his annual completion of the entire Torah, including the entire Talmud Bavli, Talmud Yerushalmi, and many other studies. Besides his erudition, Rabbi Chaim is regarded a holy and sagacious man. Each year thousands of people visit him for his advice and blessing. He has three sons and six daughters. He is by all accounts a spiritual super star. It is wonderful that today’s Bais Yaakovs have produced girls who idealize someone like him in a world that is so steeped in falsehood. It was for that reason that I had real nachas when the girls headed out to Rashbam. 
This time he was himself, in his normal habitat, not surrounded by the paparazzi and security men who had been part of his entourage when they saw him.
The girls went out to eat with families. They got to see Bnei Brak as a place where real people live. One thing that never changes is the way a Shabbos snooze is the perfect mixture of sweet retreat from the world and everything that is turbulent, temporary, and material while at the same time it’s just what your body has been craving. After I had the third meal with some of my family, I headed back to the dorm. This time our plan was to meet with Rebbitzen Kolodetzky, Rav Chaim’s daughter. I knew that the arrangement was “iffy”. Her schedule is so crowded that she no longer invites guests on Motzei Shabbos, however I was told that there are sometimes exceptions. When we arrived, there already was another seminary there! We waited on the stairs, as her patient assistant told us that she won’t disappoint us. After about three quarters of an hour, we went into the light spacious living room. It opened toe side room where there was plenty of room to wait until the girls from the other seminary made their way downstairs. I expected that she would wish us well, and a few questions, and send us on our way. That isn’t what happened.
She greeted us with undisguised warmth, complimented the girls on the tznius of their dress (which was clearly a statement she made with the confidence of someone who takes pride in doing things right, and not making compromises in serving Hashem). She told us about her life, and encouraged the girls to adapt her “secrets of spiritual success”: “Be content with your lot, and don’t make demands. Speak to Hashem in the language of the siddur. Say the traditional three prayers a day. They don’t have to take long. 25 minutes for the morning prayers, five for minchah and seven for maariv is enough.” When she said it the very idea of losing an opportunity to talk to G-d seemed ludicrous. When she spoke about taking in Shabbos early, it not only seemed possible, but the unspoken question, “How can you resist having as much Shabbos as possible?” seemed reasonable even to a chronic procrastinator like me. To her the world of spiritual growth was so chrystal clear that the illusions that we fondly call “reality” faded away in her presence. We left lighter, higher, happier, looking forward life.
I still haven’t crashed. The awesome beauty of that Shabbos is still is with me. Maharal tells us that one of the things that mark humans as unique is our ability to experience beauty.
When Rivka was told that she will be the mother of two nations, and that the two children within her will have descendants who epitomize this greatness.
Rashi quotes the Talmud as telling us that the one who exemplifies the greatness of the Jews was Rebbe, Rav Yehuda HaNassi who compiled the Mishneh, which is the core of the oral law. The other was Antonius (who some of you know as Marcus Aurelius’, the philosopher king) who exemplified the best of Western thought. Both of them were so wealthy that they were able to put winter vegetables like radish, along with summer vegetables like lettuce in an era in which refrigeration was non-existent and transportation was primitive. The first time I read this I was astounded. That’s what makes someone great? Lettuce? Radish? Why isn’t the Mishneh mentioned, or Marcus Aurelius’ contribution to Western thought? Maharal explains that introducing beauty, harmony and plentitude to physical experience is something only humans can do.
Today I asked a class how many of the girls have pets. About four girls have dogs. As much as they love their pets, they know that they will never buy Fido or Spot, great art, moving literature or profound ideas. They don’t need fine China and silver. All of these capacities are spiritual. Love of beauty is rooted in an inner need for harmony, truth and grace. Its power is greatest when the beauty you see is spiritual beauty. When I was in Bnei Brak I saw a handful of really beautiful people.
To keep things going, my students had a contest in which they counted the number of synagogues and of kids they passed on our nighttime walk from one end of Bnei Brak to the other. The numbers were unbelievable, but the beauty hidden within the anonymous faces of the gorgeous kids is even more astounding.
Love,
Tziporah

Dear friends,

I enjoy taking you all with me on my travels. I don’t like travelling alone-you are all always very much with me: I narrate what I see to unseen others.
My husband z.l. hated to travel. I don’t know if that’s how he started, but after years of fundraising for the various yeshivos to which he was connected, he developed a deep affection for his own bed. I would tell him about what was happening as it happened. My narrative was completely safe within the confines of my own mind. He didn’t have to necessarily be there. In the course of time I added more people to my repertoire. Eretz Yisrael is so profoundly rich; that there is no place that leaves me silent. 
I will never forget my first day here. It was a hamtzin (a dry hot day defined by the desert winds that take the moisture out of your very blood as you stand in the closer-than-ever-sun). I didn’t know that this wasn’t how things were every day. I decided to make the best of it, which meant accepting as what Hashem wants His Land to offer while we are still in galus. My school, Bnei Brak’s Bais Yaakov Seminary, sent a girl to receive me. Esther Hesse was the Chosen One. She was an urbane, Argentinian girl, perfectly dressed. I was ragged and sweating in the intense heat that had melted me to the core as I waited for my bags. I arrived at Batei Avot, the sem’s dorm. I was rather surprised to see a large portrait of an anachronistic Lady complete with pale blue evening gown with a satin sash and tiara. No one else looked like that. The girls wore their hair either short or in one braid, and exuded tznius that went far far beyond their clothes. Ester told me a fascinating story that I will share.
Rav Shlomo Kahaneman was the founder and sponsor of Batei Avos. He had lost everyone and everything in the war; his family, his writing, his students and friends. He was the only surviving communal rabbi in all of Lithuania. When he reached Israel, he was not alone. He took his dream of rebirth with him wherever he went. He was going to build a yeshiva that would be as good as the ones that were in ashes. It would be on the highest hill of Bnei Brak. He fundraised ceaselessly (in fact, when Kloizenberger Rebbe was asked if he thought there was life on the moon, he said he was sure that there wasn’t, because if there was, Rav Kananeman would have been there to collect, and he would have heard about it). He had an architect draw him a picture of what is now the great Ponevizh Yeshiva. My halachah (Jewish law) teacher in seminary was his driver. When he would visit wealthy men in Tel Aviv, many of them would give him a significant donation out of pity for a man they assumed had lost his mind. To them, it was as clear as day that the era of yeshivas was over. The Lady in the Picture was approached for help. This time, he wasn’t raising money for the yeshiva. One of his projects was finding homes to shelter the many war orphans who had nowhere to go, and no one to care about them. “I will be happy to donate”, she said, “but I don’t want my money to go to people who are in the dark ages, with their kippos and peyos and tzitzis” she said. The Rav didn’t miss a beat. “You can rest assured that not one person dressed like that will be in the home that I will build”, he replied. He used the money to build a home for girls, Batei Avos. In the course of time, the orphans grew and they started their own lives, the home became a dorm. When I was there last year I was shocked by how little had changed. 
Bnos Avigail got to Bnei Brak at about ten. Although we stayed at Batei Avot, it wasn’t the first stop. We began our tour of Israel’s first modern chareidi city by exploring its roots. We went to the cemetery. It took us all back to a different era. We saw the tombs of the Chazon Ish who re-invented what living in Eretz Yisrael would be for those of us who came in the modern era. He taught the biblical laws of shmittah, (resting the land every seven years) trumah, maaser (agricultural gifts to the koheins and Leviites), to people who were only familiar with these laws from ancient texts. He gave them the tools to know how to observe the laws of Eretz Yisrael. He taught an entire generation how to find what he would have called “the moment of silence that gives you access to your soul”. They discovered in themselves with enough integrity to stop apologizing and to become bnei and bnos Torah. 
We passed by the grave of Rav Vozner’s mother. Some of you may have heard of Rav Vozner, who was not only a posek (halachic decisor) but the teacher of many of today’s most imminent poskim. His mother’s story goes back more than a hundred years. She was born in Vienna, and the height of its cultural magnitude. She was blessed with an once-in-a-lifetime voice. The opera companies were after her (and remember this is also the era in which thousands and thousands of Jews were blinded by the dazzle of everything European). They offered her unbelievable contracts. She walked away from it all when one of the rabbanim promised her that if she would do this that she would merit the kind of child that Rav Vozner turned out to be. We passed the gravesite of Rav Dessler whose Michtav M’Eliyahu is one of the most influential books of its kind on Torah hashkafa (outlook). We stayed long moments at Rav Shach’s grave. We didn’t know that the yartzeit of the leader of the yeshiva world was the very next day, which gave the moment far more meaning. The giants of Ponevitzh yeshiva were there, as was the Steipler, Rebitzen Kanievski, tens of the names that resonate with the word Torah were there.
And then we did something that touched us far more deeply.
We unloaded the bus, and headed to Rechov Rashbam, a not particularly impressive looking street. It was and is home to some of the greats of our time. We assembled ourselves across from the fabled Lederman shul, and caught a glimpse of Rav Chaim Kanievski as he left his home. We had to maneuver around the paparazzi to see a living sefer Torah.
This was just Friday! Next letter, I’ll tell you about Shabbos.
In the meantime, enjoy the troop.
Love,
Tziporah