Mentschen

Haftarah Commentary Parashat Terumah I Kings 5:26 – 6:13 by Rabbi Charles Simon

mentschen — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 17:45:02 +0000

Editors Note: Each week for the past three years FJMC has been distributing a Haftarah commentary called “The Unraveller” (a link to their archive is on this page). Going forward MENTSCHEN will post each issue of “The Unraveller” for your interest and to invite you to add your voice to the discussion of our texts. This week’s commentary is written by FJMC Executive Director, Rabbi Charles Simon.

Imagine you had a project. It could be a personal one or it might be part of your job if you worked for a large or multi-national corporation. The project theoretically represented what you hoped would stimulate others to change their behavior, to turn over a new leaf. It was what you imagined would be the most important accomplishment of your life. It was your legacy.

But it was expensive and in order to bring the project in within budget and on time you needed to employ men and pay them substandard wages and house them in less than healthy facilities. It was a difficult decision but you reasoned that the greater good resulting from the success of this project, justified your behavior.

This morning’s haftarah details Solomon’s activities when he agreed to build a Temple to God. He was gifted with wisdom and wisely established a strategic alliance, a fair trade treaty, with his neighbor Hiram, King of Tyre. Hiram had the necessary raw materials needed to build the Temple but unfortunately, Solomon; the good and wise King couldn’t afford it. He had a negative balance of trade. What to do?

The Temple represented the highest, purist ideals of mankind. Its structure and the services that supported it were intended to stimulate humankind to strive to better themselves. Unfortunately, high ideals were expensive and in order to fulfill his dream Solomon was forced to enact drastic measures. He “imposed forced labor on all of Israel” and forcibly enlisted 30,000 men and sent them to Lebanon in shifts of 10,000 a month. In addition Solomon impressed 150,000 workers to quarry and carry the stones needed to be mined and shipped to Jerusalem. The text refers to this army of laborers being supervised by Solomon’s bureaucracy but doesn’t comment on their working conditions.

Imagine forced labor in the Middle East? Men subjugated to years of servititude who were unable to return to their families because they had to support a government project! When reading this haftarah, I couldn’t help but recall the Prophet Samuel’s attempts to discourage the tribes from creating a monarchy precisely for these reasons.

It causes one to wonder if the construction of the Temple was flawed from its inception how could God speak to Solomon and say, “With regard to this House…if you follow my laws and observe my rules and faithfully keep my commandments, I will never forsake my people Israel.”

Unlike the Tabernacle in this morning’s Torah portion; a structure which was constructed from freewill offerings, this morning’s haftarah hints that the need for personal aggrandizement, too often will trump (no pun intended) the greater moral goals.

Perhaps that’s why the rabbis linked the Torah portion with Solomon’s story, to remind us that a foundation needs to be morally sound, because if not, it is eventually going to crumble and fail.

Filed under: Heartfelt Judaism

Mensa Mentschen Puzzle #15 by Arnie Miller, The Mensa Math Mensch

mentschen — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 01:32:49 +0000

Sure it’s great to have a conversation about the important things on our minds

…but it’s also fun to put those minds to work!

Each month, puzzle editors Arnie Miller and Morey Waltuck will issue a challenge to Mentschen readers.

KEEP READING FOR THIS MONTH’S PUZZLE!

Check back to the comments section to see a list of men who solve the puzzle. Can you be the first with the solution? All men who solve the puzzle will also be listed in the next issue of Mentschen, and be recognized at the 2013 FJMC Convention.

THIS MONTH’S PUZZLE:

Mentschen Puzzle #15: “Judaism, IKC & the # 5”

by Arnie Miller, The Mensa Math Mensch

The # 5 is significant in Judaism:

5

The gematria of the Hebrew letter ה
The books of the Pentateuch
The sections of the book of Psalms
The number of knots in the tzitzit
Number of aliyot on Yom Tov that does not coincide with Shabbat
Date in Iyar of Yom Ha’atzmaut
Number emphasized during Mimouna

The # 5 is also significant for FJMC’s IKC….this inspired this month’s puzzle:

Five (5) different single-digit whole numbers add up to 15.

Multiple those same five (5) numbers together, and the result is 120.

Can you determine what those five (5) numbers are?

A + B + C + D + E = 15

A x B x C x D x E = 120

BONUS:

Five (5) different single-digit whole numbers add up to 30.

Two of them are given as “1” and “8”.

Multiple those same five (5) numbers together, and the result is 2520.

Can you determine what the other three (3) numbers are?

A + B + C + 1 + 8 = 30

A x B x C x 1 x 8 = 2520

Try to solve the puzzle. And, when you do, send the answer along with your synagogue and city and get your name listed in next month’s issue.

Arnie Miller (miller.arnold@comcast.net)

Morey Waltuck (mwaltuck@comcast.net).

Last Month’s Puzzle and Solution:

Mentschen Puzzle #14: Taking the Wellness Program Seriously by Morey Waltuck

Dave and Rob are friends that live in the same town. They take the FJMC Wellness Program seriously and agreed to jog every day at the same time. On a particular day they each left their respective homes at the exact same time and jogged toward each other but at different paces. When they passed each other for the first time, they happened to be exactly 700 yards from Dave’s home.

Each continued jogging at a constant pace to the opposite friend’s home, then, turned around and jogged back toward each other again. When they passed for the second time, they were exactly 300 yards from Rob’s home.

How far apart are their homes?

The solution to Puzzle #14:

Dave and Rob jogging daily
S1=speed of Dave 1; S2=speed of Rob; D=distance apart
For each pass, Dave’s time = Ron’s time, or
Pass 1: 700/rD = (D-700)/rR and
Pass 2: (D+300)/ rD = (D+(D-300))/ rR
Solving, you get: D = 1800 yards

Puzzle #14, Bob’s Jogging Adventure, was solved by :
Ed Blachman, Temple Emunah, Lexington MA
Richard Gorman, Har Shalom, Potomac MD
Martin Agulnek, Temple Israel, Sharon MA
Stu Kaplan, Cong. Beth Sholom, Teaneck NJ
Arnie Miller, Temple Beth Emunah, Brockton, MA

Congratulations!

_______________________________________________________________

Filed under: Heartfelt Judaism

The Girl Next Door by Steve Krodman

mentschen — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 00:43:52 +0000

It was sometime in 1956 or ’57 when the four-year-old Elisson noticed big doings going on next door.

Gargantuan machines came and dug out a humongous hole, piling up mountains of dirt around its perimeter. It looked like a perfect place to play, but the young lad was given strict instructions to stay the hell away from that big hole and those mounds of earth lest he be swallowed up in an unfortunate accidental manner. Soon other machines came, and with them an army of men with hammers, nails, and great planks of wood. And as the days wore on, a house – a big one, with two stories – began to take shape.

How long it took to build that house, who can say? Little Elisson certainly cannot, for it is some 55-odd years later, and his memories of those days are necessarily befogged, seen as if through a scrim of cheesecloth. But whether it was a process measured in weeks or months matters not at all. All that does matter is that it was, eventually, complete, whereupon a family moved in… and I met the Girl Next Door.

She was a dark-haired beauty, and despite her having three years on me, I was smitten. As smitten as a four-year-old could be, I suppose.

TGND, as it happens, was the youngest of four, all sisters, the eldest of whom was a full eighteen years her senior. Shortly after the family moved in, said eldest sister got married, and in true Italian family tradition, ended up living just three doors up the street in a house that her father and husband built.

We would spend lazy summer afternoons watching the butterflies flutter around the towering buddleja bush in our back yard, doing whatever little kids do. Of course, being that we were so different in age, TGND and I traveled in different circles, and as the years went by we would see less and less of each other… except on those occasions when she was called upon to baby-sit for me and my brother, the Other Elisson.

Eventually, we relocated. It was all of three blocks to the southwest, but it meant that The Girl Next Door was no longer Next Door, alas. By that time, she was a newly-minted high-school graduate anyway; she would not be spending much time in the neighborhood any longer. And three years later, I moved away – first to university, then to Sweat City – and I saw no more of TGND.

* * *Last Monday, on the way to visit Eli (hizzownself) at the hospital, I took a brief detour and stopped in at the West Islip Public Library.

After waiting for a suitable opportunity, I walked over to the desk where sat one of the librarians and leaned over toward her, in the manner of someone who was about to ask a question but was not quite sure what it was he wanted to ask. She looked at me, puzzled at first, and then the light of recognition dawned. “I can’t believe it.”

Of course it was The Girl Next Door. It might have taken her longer to figure out who I was, had it not been for The Other Elisson having stopped by the previous week. Still, not bad – given that she had not laid eyes on me in something like forty-five years.

Remarkably, she hadn’t changed all that much… and her bright-eyed smile and little-girl voice hadn’t changed at all.

We spent the better part of an hour swapping stories, learning about each other’s families, and reminiscing about the Old Neighborhood. TGND was appalled to hear that Alec Baldwin had bought the old Bookmobile… she used to babysit him and had nought good to say about him, his obnoxious brood of brothers (except for Billy), his lecherous, Fred Flintstone-like father, or his house, which had a back yard filled with debris, unmowed grass, and raw sewage. She recalled the old butterfly-chasing days (“You used to stick ’em in that jar and kill ’em”) and her admiration for my mother, who (unlike all of the other suburban mommies in our neighborhood) showed her independence by playing golf three times a week.

Ahhh, memories.

The time flew past: All too soon, it was time to go and catch Dad as his lunch time began. And so we said our goodbyes.

As we move our playing pieces across the gameboard of Life, there are people who become part of our daily existence – family, friends, business colleagues, and the like – and there are others who, in the grand scheme of things, form the backdrop against which that existence plays out. Perhaps The Girl Next Door falls more into that second category, as do most of the people of my early days. Yet, in a small way, she will always be part of me, for she made an indelible impression fifty-five years ago, when I was of an impressionable age.

And how could I ever forget her, anyway? Fate would never allow it: Donna, my wife of nearly 35 years, shares her given name.

Filed under: Hearing Men's Voices

On My Father’s Yortseyt by Arnold M. Eisen

mentschen — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 14:47:58 +0000

It’s not difficult to recall numerous ways in which I have been shaped—as a person, a father, a Jew, a man, a friend, a husband, and much, much more—by my father, Alan Eisen (z”l), whose third yortseyt I will observe in early January. It is appropriate to write this particular recollection of him for the Federation of Jewish Men’s Clubs (FJMC) with a plaque and framed certificate nearby that testify to his “Man of the Year” awards from the Men’s Club of Congregation Emanu-El in Philadelphia. I got my musical ability from my father (my mother, a source of great influence and inspiration as well, could not carry a tune, though she did play the piano). I suspect the fact that I do not tell jokes very often, but appreciate good puns, stems from the fact that Dad told jokes all the time, and was known for a repertoire of bad puns. It gave me great pleasure, too, when my son was born, to observe that he had inherited the double-jointed thumbs that seem to go with my father’s genealogy and that of all Eisen males. The problem is not finding examples of my father’s influence on me, but identifying areas where that influence is absent. Let me mention three zones of his impact that are particularly relevant to my current work—and that of the FJMC.

First, my Dad was pious in a way I much admired and never scorned, even at the height of teenage rebellion. He had a love of life that ran deeper than deep. (I confess that I just typed “has” and “runs” in the previous sentence and then corrected the typos to put the words in past tense. Alan Eisen lives in me not least in the love of life, the sense of gratitude to God for being, that is perhaps the greatest gift he transmitted to me—a most important quality that he exuded from every part of his being.) He would often lead davening of birkhot ha-shahar at morning services, and I knew as I watched that he did so with great kavanah. He would say “the Good Lord willing” and mean it. He was not a simple person, despite his protestations that he was: part of a genuine humility that taught me to take the world seriously but not to take myself too seriously. He never did. I think that’s why little kids loved him so: this man who would get down on the floor with them and pretend to pound down on his double-jointed thumbs until he bent them back in a way that left kids wide-eyed, or who—as the kids got older—would entertain them with math tricks and word games. He was a character, my father, and a man of great character. I could always count on him. So could my mother and God.

Second, my Dad loved music. He had been training to be a pianist when the Depression took away that dream and others, too. Throughout his career as a salesman, he would take time whenever he could—and wherever he traveled—to walk into schools and offer a free program called “Fun With Music.” He wanted kids to appreciate Chopin, so he’d have them time him as he played the “Minute Waltz,” or he’d conjure up the images of a parade and enthrall them with Beethoven’s “Turkish March.” (The kids at the assemblies generally wrote thank-you notes afterward and sent them to him; usually they consisted of elaborate drawings of him at the piano or the scenes they pictured from the music. I recently pruned the collection down from hundreds to dozens, unable to discard them entirely.) I’ve told rabbinical students at JTS that once, in his early 90s (he passed away at 97), my dad sat down at the grand piano in the lobby of an apartment building and began to play a Chopin nocturne, transforming himself (or perhaps just our image of him) from an elderly gentlemen who had his share of physical ailments to a vessel of artistry than came, via his fingers, straight from the soul. “Everyone has a Chopin nocturne inside,” I tell the students. “It’s your job to elicit it and help it find expression in your community.” This is what leadership is about.

Third, he loved being Jewish. This love was not the result of theory, or even of a conscious decision. He simply loved family, friends, and shul and so many other things that were Jewish through and through. Men’s Club was his community inside a community. Taking his only child to tallit and tefillin on Sunday mornings, followed by breakfasts of bagels and lox, was a source of immense pleasure and pride, every bit as much as the duets we would do at the piano. I got that. I too was proud. He was at home in shul as almost nowhere else. I am at home in synagogues, I think, because I started out running up and down every hallway at Emanu-El—exploring every back staircase, checking out the boiler room, and investigating the choir loft—knowing that this was my parents’ home turf, and especially my father’s, because (this was the 1950s) he was the major macher in the family. The synagogue—and especially its Men’s Club—enabled him to be the father he wanted to be. His son was grateful then, and will always remain so.

Filed under: Heartfelt Judaism

Happy Holidays! by Alex Romano

mentschen — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 01:09:05 +0000

Happy Holidays.

We had a throw pillow that came out every December as part of our seasonal holiday decorations. It had a picture of a reindeer with the antlers made up to be a Hanukah menorah complete with candles. I don’t recall the whimsical saying that combined the secular celebration of Christmas with the Jewish celebration of Hanukah. We must have donated this decorative gem to Goodwill or the like since I can’t find it, but it defines the way in which our blended family celebrated the December holidays.

Like many families throughout North America, we do not celebrate our holidays the way we did when we were kids. For me, with my Christian upbringing, this was with presents under the Christmas tree and stockings hung by the fireplace, which miraculously filled with goodies overnight.

For many years after we married, Linda and I comfortably celebrated both Christmas and Hanukah with each of our families in ways that mimicked what we experienced as children. We had a tree in the living room, stockings by the fireplace and a Hanukah menorah or two prominently displayed. We celebrated Christmas with my family and joined Linda’s family in their various (and diverse) celebrations.

When my journey to Judaism brought me to conversion, after 17 years of marriage, our household began a transition from a blended mix of traditions to our current tradition of a completely Jewish celebration. Without any Christmas decorations remaining, that silly pillow, with its blended message had to go. This transition took time to happen over the 12 years since my conversion. I could not immediately let go of the desire to continue to recreate, for my children, the favorite memories I had as a child. But as they were growing up, and their own Jewish identities were developing, I had to face the fact that the experiences my kids have had, and would have, are their own and not mine to relive.

Certainly navigating the uncharted waters as a blended family – and we continue to be an interfaith extended family even though we have a completely Jewish household – has been challenging over the years. Things would have been easier if we did not have different faith traditions to accommodate, but that was not the path for us. This path is one which I feel was chosen for us by a divine plan, which I am immensely happy with. Every year as December rolls around, I am filled with the joy of the season – all of the various aspects of the season from all the phases of my life – and our family’s blended history.

Happy Holidays!

Filed under: Heartfelt Judaism

Rich Jews Acting Badly by Art Spar

mentschen — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 00:43:48 +0000

“Once we were slaves in Egypt” is the ultimate Jewish story. The memory of slavery is burned on our consciousness not to induce us to amass enough wealth so that it never happens again. It is a call to be sensitive to the plight of the underclass. Our slavery ended because of divine providence, not because we were so clever. Some believe the story is a literal history and others believe it is our Jewish mythology. Either way, it defines who we are and what we stand for.

My life brings me into contact with Jews across North America. I like to discuss politics, and I’m beginning to see a pattern. Many financially wealthy Jews are advocating policies to cut taxes, reduce subsidies for the poor, and stop the EPA from mandating pollution regulations. They tell me the system is broken. But the system seems to be working pretty well for them. And these policies will likely enhance their wealth.

First a few assumptions:

Who is financially wealthy? While I don’t know anyone’s bank account, I can suggest a few litmus tests. Is there a second home? Was an overseas vacation taken since the financial crisis of 2008? Are the children graduating college debt free? Perhaps you can add a few wealth markers of your own. Any one of these shows an abundance of liquidity most would envy.

How can I attribute similar attitudes to a whole class of people? Do all wealthy believe the above? No. Have I used a random sample, an unbiased questionnaire, and mathematical analysis? No. It’s just my observation. But psychological research shows that affluence is a treadmill that feeds on itself. Wealth itself induces the pursuit of greater wealth.

Are the economic policies of our country sound? No. Are our politicians moving rapidly to fix them? No. But I believe the economic and political solutions will be found in the middle of extreme points of view, and I am reacting to the one sided rhetoric I hear.

The Torah tells us to leave a portion of our fields unharvested so that the poor may come onto our land and take what they need to feed themselves. The Torah doesn’t say, “Take a bath and get a job.” Isaiah tells us that empathy is not enough. We must open our homes to care for the needy.

Many of the wealthy I speak to give generously to synagogues, Jewish day schools, and Jewish federations. These donations are actually government subsidized gifts to the institutions we need for ourselves. We need synagogues to house our worship and meet as a community. We need our Rabbis to officiate over our life cycle events, to counsel us, and to teach us. We need our day schools to give our children and grandchildren religious training and to prepare them, in a superior way, to compete in a global society. Our federations support all the above. And about $.30 of every dollar we give is paid by the government through the charitable deduction feature on our taxes. Does this fulfill the moral imperative to feed and clothe the needy?

You could match your donation to the synagogue with an equal gift to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, or you can support the government programming so reviled by many.

The Affordable Health Care Act, at its core, is a plan to give each person a minimum level of health care. Forty million Americans have no health care. This act will change that, and we the taxpayers have to pay for it. It has been given the pejorative name Obamacare by those who wish to repeal it. This act fulfills the imperative to care for the needy.

The headlines in this week’s newspaper were, “Line Grows Long For Free Meals At U.S. Schools” and “Public Sector Sheds Jobs; Blacks Are Hit Hardest”. Once we were slaves in Egypt.

If I have to watch one more “clean coal” commercial on TV, I’m going to throw up. Coal is a cheap, dirty way to produce electricity while fouling our air, land and water. The Torah tells us to give the land periodic sabbaticals. We must let the land rest to preserve it. The Torah also tells us that the land is not our, it belongs to God. We may use it if we care for it. The greed for cheap power that destroys our climate is not compatible with Jewish values.

Every issue has its extremes. The righteous will remember the needs of those less fortunate. The wise will find solutions that respect all points of view. As we enter the 2012 election season, try to block out the negative campaigns of all sides. Remember the underclass, for once we were slaves in Egypt. Perhaps we need to pay a little more to see that the needy are clothed, fed and their medical needs are provided for. Perhaps we should think of the beautiful planet on which we live, and chose to pay a bit more to make it sustainable for our children and grandchildren. On Election Day, consider voting for candidates who pursue the wise middle path. The best leader will remember their responsibility to create a just society for all.

Filed under: Heartfelt Judaism

Father Knows Least?! By Charlie Savenor

mentschen — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 21:58:42 +0000

Our family recently traveled to the American Promised Land, also known as Florida. Immediately behind us on this packed plane sat a family of three. Before takeoff this threesome were giggling. They may have been a little loud, but with the having experience of our own kids’ laughter and tears during trips, I make every effort to be more forgiving with others, especially when their children act out. What made this situation more pleasant was that their voices were that of happy vacation laughter that comes when a family connects with one another, disconnected from the i-anything. There really could have been a Lifetime Channel film crew taping the whole thing.

Out of nowhere, another passenger tapped the jovial father on the shoulder and demanded, “Can you keep it down, sir? I want this to be a relaxing flight, and your family is making too much noise.” The father’s first reaction was to be as friendly as New York Jets coach Rex Ryan, recently fined $75,000 for some choice words to a critical fan. “No, lady. We are not making noise, so we will not keep out voices down.”Their exchange only got more heated from there. I watched the whole thing with some degree of disbelief. Their lack of civility was like in-flight reality TV without the benefit of a remote control’s on/off button. Thankfully the wife calmed down her husband, who responded in a more balanced way to the other passenger, and everyone agreed to be respectful during the remainder of the flight. However, one image stood out for me.

Before sitting back, the noise-averse woman gave the father a certain look.

I know that look. Just five years earlier that look was directed at me, when our son was crying mid-flight.

Julie, Joseph and I were on a packed flight to Florida. Immediately after takeoff Joseph began crying loudly. It is not unusual for kids to shed a few tears on a trip by any mode of transportation. Since Joseph was crying for “Mommy”, I had full confidence that the situation would be resolved swiftly. I offered my support and assistance, but it was clear that Joseph was in good hands. As Julie tended to Joseph in the window seat – ie two seats away, I tuned out the tears and read “Sports Illustrated” while drinking Diet Coke with a lemon twist.

All of a sudden, a woman behind us tapped Julie on the shoulder and declared loudly, “It’s your husband’s fault.”

My first thought was this most be some sort of joke.

”Your husband should be handling this situation, but, look at him. He’s doing nothing.”

But this wasn’t a joke. She was serious.

Then a deluge of venom ensued: “Fathers are useless. They don’t take responsibility for their children.” This person was so nasty and angry, she could have been the mayor of Mean-ville. “All men do is make babies, and then they do absolutely nothing for their care. Nothing!” As her muttering continued it became clear that her comments were not directed solely at me. Julie and I tried to be polite while quieting Joseph down, but this angry passenger would not stop her verbal assault on me and all other dads worldwide. “Useless, irresponsible,…”

Why did this misanthropic person blame me, the father? I may have been little lax at that moment, but I don’t think it warranted a blanket dismissal of fathers everywhere.

Sometimes when we travel as a family, I reflect on this uncomfortable episode. This recent case of deja vu actually made me relive this whole nasty encounter. In my internally filing system, this unpleasant in-flight social turbulence is not categorized under civility in travel – or road-rage without the road; but rather as an entry in the ongoing discussion about fathers and fatherhood.

It appears that the halcyon days of “Father Knows Best” are over, but have we really come to “Father Knows Least”?

Is she right? Is today’s father useless?

I don’t think so. In my view, fathers today are more active than previous generations. We do our share of household chores, homework review and sports coaching. While our household responsibilities may not be evenly split, my dishpan hands reflect a new domestic reality. Can you imagine Don Draper or even Mike Brady changing a diaper?

Granted every family divides the workload differently, I am honestly not sure that a 50/50 split is realistic or possible. Even in the age of flexible hours, moms and dads have different roles, sometimes defined by scheduling, gender or personality. Julie cooks, and I do the dishes. Julie handles bath time, and I get the boys dressed for bed, as long as I am home that early from work. But shlepping luggage, taking out the trash and sledding, that’s all me. Equal? I don’t think so, but the system seems to be working for us. (Note to self: Ask Julie about this.)

Here’s a question to consider: when your kids cry, for whom do they ask? My informal polling shows “Mommy” most of the time.

Most importantly, it appears that this generation of fathers and mother understands that quality time doesn’t just mean occupying the same room while playing on separate iPads. We both make an effort to read to our kids, to prioritize time for family vacations and to be home for dinner.

The truth is being a parent is hard work. Sometimes we just do what’s needed to move the ball down the field.

A few weeks ago when Julie left early for work, I was responsible for breakfast. That morning while Joseph enjoyed his toast, Benjy had no interest in eggs, pancakes or, even their favorite food-group, cereal. His willfulness wouldn’t budge as he declared his desired morning meal.

“Cookies.” He exclaimed with tears rolling down his cheeks. ”Cookies?” I replied. “But Benjy, cookies are a treat. Not a meal. Please, how about some eggs?” I was really glad that Julie had made some before she left. ”Cookies!” My three year old was morphing into a Cookie Monster right before my eyes.

Ok, Ok. He got his cookies.

A few minutes later our nanny walked in. She gasped when she found Benjy with a mouth full of cookies and his hand in an open box grasping for more.

“Benjy, who gave you cookies for breakfast?” The question lingered in the air for a moment. In my heart of hearts, I was hoping Benjy would explain how he won a test of wills.

With a mouth too stuffed to speak, my baby slowly raised his arm and pointed at me. Et tu, Benjy? Just like that, our three year old threw me under the school bus.

Sheepishly, I shrugged and peeked up at our nanny. And there it was again, that familiar “Father Knows Least” look.

Filed under: Hearing Men's Voices

Mentschen Puzzle #14: Taking the Wellness Program Seriously by Morey Waltuck

mentschen — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 18:00:06 +0000

How far apart are their homes?

Try to solve the puzzle. And, when you do, e-mail the answer along with your synagogue and city and get your name listed in next month’s issue. (Please don’t put your solution in the “Leave a Reply” for others to see)

Arnie Miller (miller.arnold@comcast.net)
Morey Waltuck (mwaltuck@comcast.net).

We received only one response for puzzle #13 and he had 16 answers, all with the digits in the correct order!

It was from repeat contributor Moshe Adler, Temple Beth EL, West Palm Beach, FL

Here are some of the possible solutions. An asterisk means the solution is in the order 5772.
1 5^((7-7)*2) *
2 -5-7+7*2 *
3 5-7+7-2 *
4 5-(-7/7+2) *
5 5*(-7/7+2) *
6 5-7/7+2 *
7 5+7-7+2 *
8 5+7/7+2 *
9 2*5-7/7
10 5*7/7*2 *
11 5^2-7-7
12 5+(7^2)/7
12 (5-7)+(7*2) *

14 -5*7+7^2 *
15 5*(7/7+2) *
16 (5-7/7)^2 *
17 5+7+7-2 *
18 2^5-7-7
21 5+7+7+2 *
24 2*5+7+7
25 5^2+7-7
26 5+7+7*2 *
30 5*7-7+2 *
31 2^5-7/7
32 2^5+7-7
33 2^5+7/7
35 5/7*7^2 *
36 (5+7/7)^2 *
37 -5-7+7^2 *
39 5^2+7+7
40 5*7+7-2 *
42 -5+7*7-2 *
44 5*7+7+2 *
46 -5+7*7+2 *
47 5-7+7^2 *
49 5*7+7*2 *
51 -5+7+7^2 *
52 5+7*7-2 *
56 5+7*7+2 *
61 5+7+7^2 *
64 2^(7/7+5)
74 5^2+7*7
81 2^5+7*7
84 5*7+7^2 *
93 -5+7*7*2 *

Filed under: Heartfelt Judaism

To My Daughter on Her Bat Mitzvah by Alex Romano

mentschen — Sun, 30 Oct 2011 17:46:45 +0000

Jenny,

Today marks an important step in your Jewish spiritual journey, but in many ways, your journey has been my spiritual journey as well. Your were born Jewish because your mother is Jewish. I was not born Jewish and my journey in becoming a Jew, with my conversion last year, is due, in part, to the journey that has brought you here today.

One of the things I realized, when I was just about your age, was that I couldn’t have faith in my family’s religion because I didn’t believe that a god existed. I couldn’t find anything in the world around me that proved the existence of a god and I could see no substantiation for the miracles that I was leaning about in the Bible. I concluded that, without proof of the existence of God, there could not be belief. And without belief there could not be faith in a religion.

Well, a few years ago, without any pushing or suggestion from either of us, you asked to go to Hebrew school and to, one day, be a Bat Mitzvah. You took to your religious studies like a fish to water, doing amazing things. And now you are now standing here today.

And I am standing here with you in part, because you have allowed me to reevaluate the conclusions I made when I was your age. What I’ve learned, while becoming a part of this temple community and watching you go through your incredible achievements on your spiritual journey, is that there is proof of the existence of God. From my perspective, you are living proof that God exists. A child like you, and the identification and achievement your have made in your Jewish education, is a miracle happening right before my eyes. And I thank you for that.

Filed under: Heartfelt Judaism

To My Son at His Bar Mitzvah by Jeff Kolodney

mentschen — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 21:39:23 +0000

Editors Note: We all strive to be mentors and role models to our sons. One of the major milestones in the life of a boy is his Bar Mitzvah. At this key moment we have the opportunity to speak to our son and provide “words of wisdom”. From time to time “Mentschen” will publish some of these remarks and we welcome you to send the speech that you wrote for YOUR son.

Jacob, congratulations. You did wonderfully this morning. I couldn’t be more proud of you.

You have impressed me over the last 6 months with the calm and confidence you displayed in your preparation for today. Your mom and I often wondered whether you were truly prepared or just cluelessly overconfident and in way over your head. You certainly answered that question with your terrific performance leading today’s service.

You know Jacob, the whole process of preparing for today led me to reflect upon YOUR growth and personal development from an infant to a young man and MY growth as a parent. These two things are certainly intertwined.

Before you were born, mom and I would spend hours discussing how we, as parents, would involve you in certain sports or activities, ensure you would have only personality traits that we valued, and how we would make sure you wouldn’t do and act in ways we thought would not be appropriate for OUR son…..boy were we naive.

Very early on, you taught us one of the most valuable lessons of parenting… that every child is unique, with his own interests, and his own strengths and weaknesses. Jacob we knew you were both unique and special when as a 21 month old, on a day trip to Nahant beach with Hercules, our dog, you recited the entire alphabet as we wrote it for you in the sand. And you did it with such excitement and enthusiasm, it seemed that life just couldn’t get any better for you. You then proceeded to make mom and I repeat this exercise at least 10 times. A few years later, as a four year old, you mastered the entire classification system of the American Kennel Club – all 180 recognized dog breeds… and then it was flags of the world, then maps of the world, and the music of the Beatles.

I mention these things not to brag, or embarrass you but to point out that it was YOU who choose which interests to pursue and you who figures out what makes you happy. I had to learn to back off and let you pursue your passions. As much as I wanted you to have a passion for my childhood interests, like baseball or tennis or chess, I really had little control. You taught me that, as a parent, my job is not to dictate what you do, but to follow your lead and help you find YOUR way.

Jacob you have quite a, to put it mildly, a unique personality. A parent often wonders if it’s ok for their child to follow a path less travelled than his peers. You have taught me that what makes you different is what makes you special. You are kind to everyone. You are humble. You do not judge people, and you have a wonderfully quirky sense of humor. In my line of work, I get to meet lots of young people. So you can trust I know what I am talking about when I say this combination of personality traits makes you one pretty special young man.

I love you.

Filed under: Heartfelt Judaism