A CAT AND MOUSE GAME

 

Late one night in a Brooklyn bar, a mouse comes out of its hole and finds an open bottle of vodka. Licking the bottle clean, the mouse falls into a drunken stupor.

A little while later, a cat passes by and sees the drunken mouse lying there. As the cat inches closer to the mouse, preparing to pounce on it, it notices another cat coming from the opposite door. In the ensuing scratching duel, the cats maul each other; before long, both cats lie dead at the mouse’s feet.

Waking up the next morning to the sight of two dead cats, the mouse proudly says, “See what I can do when I’m drunk…”

What kind of Jews do you have?

  

So, the next time Schlamazal or Schlemiel calls and asks “What kind of Jews live in ventnor , I have my answer all ready. Here it is:

We are wise Jews. Wicked Jews. We’re those I’ll be your 10^th man if you need me Jews. Those G-d is real, but I am not sure what he wants from me Jews. We’re those always questioning Jews. Those thinking Jews and let me tell you something Jews. Those old Jews. New Jews. If you need a place for Shabbos you can stay with me Jews.

Those always trying to make your life just a little better Jews. We’re those twice a year you’ll find me in shul, but I am Jewish all year long Jews. Those I would rather not, but since you asked me, OK I will wrap tefillin Jews. Those I am little scared to admit it but yes, I am a Jew, Jews. Those I just started keeping Shabbos in my college dorm and why didn’t anyone tell me about this before Jews.

We’re those I’m an Israeli so don’t tell me what to do Jews. Those yes, I am Haredi but not like the ones in the movies Jews. Those English, Turkish, Yemenite and Moroccan Jews. Those Ashkenazi blonde-and-blue-eyed but no I’m not a shiksa Jews. Those recently converted and totally loving it Jews. We are 7^th generation Charleston Jews. Soviet era born and desperately trying to catch up Jews. Not yet but working on being more shabbat conscious Jews.

Those I’m not religious but so proud of being Jewish Jews. Those we don’t know why we’re still being persecuted Jews. And I am a little afraid so I’m trying not to be too Jewish Jews. And those whenever we’re murdered you probably think we had it coming Jews. But still, not afraid to wear my Star of David Am Israel Chai Jews.

We’re those you don’t want to hear this, but I don’t care what you think Jews. Those bullied in high school because I was rocking a yarmulke Jews. Those standing up to Jew hater Jews. Those I think you got it all wrong, but I respect and love you cause you’re my brother Jews.

We’re those Iron Dome cheering where were you BBC when the missiles were raining down on Tel Aviv Jews. Those if you’re a hater you can just get off my Facebook page Jews. Those we’re sick of your double standards and that UN stands for Useless Nations to me Jews. That will fight it out if you have a problem with me Jews. And we desperately want to just live side by side in peace with you Jews.

We’re those always needing to explain that chosen doesn’t mean better Jews. Those let’s figure it out together Jew. Those there’s never, ever just one answer Jews. Those I don’t know which way to hold a siddur but I just like being in shul with other Jews, Jews. Those psychoanalytical and let me tell you something about you and your mother Jew.

We’re those look how many Nobel Prizes we won Jews. Those OMG OMG did you know that Houdini, Pink, Wonder Woman, Scarlett Johansson, Drake, Harry Potter, Indiana Jones, Jonas Salk (the polio vaccine guy) were Jewish, Jews. Those and did you know that we invented stuff that’s part of your everyday life but you don’t even know it Jews. Those I was born in the USA but my daughter wants to fly jet F-16’s for IDF. Those I don’t know the difference between Bibi and Bamba but I believe in my people to do what is right Jews.

We’re those lox and bagel noshing falafel & hummus eating couscous, schnitzel, latkes & matzah ball soup scarfing Jew. We’re those hey you BDS Israel’s the only liberal democracy in the Middle East Jew. We’re those I became a refugee when my ancestors were kicked out of Arab lands Jew.

We’re those I’m totally not religious but rush home every Thursday night to study Talmud on Zoom Jews. Those taking my tuna on matzah lunch wrapped in tin foil to public school on Passover Jews. Those I may not always eat kosher, but I won’t touch bacon Jews. Those looking for the truth forever wandering Jew. Those I just want my child married under a chuppah and give me Jewish grandchildren Jews. Those I walked out of Auschwitz and was afraid for too long until I stood at the state house and lit the menorah Jews.

We’re those I’ll bet I am more religious that you Jews. And those I’ll bet you are, but I love you anyway Jews. Those with a picture at the wall of a chossid and a soldier in arms at the wall Jews. My son’s an IDF hero Jews. Those you may kill me, but you won’t kill my dream Jews. Those I’ve never been to Israel, but I’ll get there someday because it’s my homeland Jews. Those it’s almost 4000 years and we’re still standing Jews. Those we’re finally here standing at the western wall with a tear in my eye Jews.

We’re those I won’t apologize for surviving Jews. Those fighting to make USC understand that scheduling major programs on YK isn’t cool Jews. Those never ever again Jews. Those I won’t rest until every Jewish child in Columbia has an excellent Jewish education Jews.

We’re a mother of 6 and still wish there were more of us Jews. Those creative Jew. Those dancer Jews. Painter Jews. Those grandchildren of those who suffered so we would just make it Jews. Those but I wish they would have taught me Yiddish Jews.

We’re those everything’s part of Hashem’s plan and I’ll keep looking for the answer Jews. Those we’re going to be okay because Moshiach is coming so hang in there and do another mitzvah Jews. Those I believe human dignity will prevail, and the world is made up of decent people Jews.

So to Shlomie and Schlemazal and to all the other who want to label us I say, we’re not religious, we’re not orthodox, we’re not cultural, spiritual, or secular Jews. We’re not centrist Orthodox or Modern Orthodox, Open Orthodox, Closed Orthodox, or even slightly ajar Orthodox. We are not nondenominational,” “trans denominational,” “post-denominational” we are just authentic, Jews. And we are here today because we’re Jews, no more no less. That’s all, and that’s enough.

Burnt Soldier - A Mother’s Love

 A Mother’s Love

During the YK War, Chief rabbi of Israel, Israel Meir Lau, became the rabbi of the Ichilov Hospital in Tel Aviv, which turned into a military hospital. The hospital took in 475 wounded soldiers, all of them from the Suez Canal, all of them in critical condition.

(One of the wounded, whose right arm had been crushed, was a young medical student, a religious boy named Naftali Rubinstein who wanted to be an orthopedist. He said to me, “My career is over. If I am ever able to lift a spoon to my mouth, it will be a miracle. I don’t dream of ever being able to perform surgery.” Today, Naftali Rubinstein is the head of the orthopedic department at Ichilov.)

One boy, Rabbi Lau shared, was stuck in a tank that the Egyptians burnt. The soldier was brought into the hospital, burned from head to toe and could not stop screaming in pain. All the morphine in the world could not calm him. With his crying from pain, none of the other patients could sleep. The nurses begged him to calm down, his roommates nudged him, I tried to speak to him, but nothing helped. The pain was harrowing. His body was all charred, so if you tried to touch him, he would yell. One day, his mother came to the ward, sat down beside him, and found a tiny patch of natural skin on one of his legs. It was, sadly, the only natural skin he had left on his poor body. She placed her finger on that pot, and stroked it slowly, lovingly, and murmured, “Calm down, my sweetheart. Rest, my love, you need to sleep so that you’ll have the strength to become healthy. It’s Ima speaking to you; sleep, my child. You’re not alone. I am here with you,” a whole time caressing that single tiny patch of natural skin.

Three minutes later, the boy fell asleep for the first time since the war, and there was silence in the ward. All of us were in tears.

Rabbi Lau said: I then understood the verse in Isaiah (66:13), “Like a man whose mother comforts him, so I will comfort you.” We marveled at the instinct of a mom to tune-in to that single spot in his charred body that she could hold and caress.

What a profound lesson. You sometimes encounter someone who may be emotionally forlorn, burnt by life, by the system. But there is always one spot, maybe tiny spot, in the soul that remains uncharred. Caress it, and he will return to life.

And it’s so true about our nation. People are sometimes pessimistic about our future. They say that Jews are too indifferent. The truth is: In every Jew there is a patch of holiness and passion that no fire and no water can ever destroy. Every Jew is sacred, every Jew is eternally connected. Our job is to “caress” that spot—and help every one of our brothers and sisters rediscover their truest and deepest self.

Arab Remembers Honesty of Jews Fifty Years Later

 Arab Remembers Honesty of Jews Fifty Years Later

A powerful story (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ltu-PioKm0):

A Jewish fellow by the name of Steve Clar, from Arcadian Development Group, a company that develops, builds and renovates nursing homes, was traveling to Kentucky. He was exhausted and entered a gas station to get a coffee. He hears the owner speaking Arabic on the phone, so when the owner asks Steve how he’s doing, he answers: Hem-Di-Lilah, thank G-d in Arabic. The man was shocked that a Jew with a kipa knows Arabic. They strike up a conversation and the man tells him: I’m in love with the Jewish people. Why?

I grew up in Ramallah, in Israel. We were 10 brothers and sisters; we lived in one room in a refugee camp. We were a poor family, no bread, nothing at home. To help support my family I had to travel to Jerusalem. In Jerusalem there is a corner where you can stand, and if people need any labor, they pick you up from there. There was a Jewish guy, a contractor, Moshe, who hired me to paint houses; I made a nice income and brought back food for my family.

But then suddenly the Yom Kippur War broke out in 1973. The Arabs launched a surprise attack, and they closed immediately all the borders, we couldn't travel to Jerusalem to find work. The war ended but we're still afraid to go into Jerusalem to get work. We were so poor. No food stamps in our city… when you have no bread, you starve.

Ad then suddenly one day, the Israeli Army enters Ramallah and they're asking for my name, they're looking for me. Everybody's scared they are going to arrest me. They found my house, they knocked on my door, I was petrified. Sudddenly, I see, who comes out of the army jeep? My contractor, Moshe, who was also a reserve General in the Israeli army, and managed to get a few soldiers to escort him to our home in Ramallah. Moishe stuck his hand into his bulletproof vest, took out an envelope, and handed it to me, and said: Here's your last paycheck; I'm sorry I wasn't able to pay you till now, because of the Yom Kippur War. I was blown away.

50 years passed, and here you, a proud Jew comes into my gas station in Kentucky. I can’t tell you how much I love Jews.

I live in Kentucky today. I am very affluent. I own more than 24 gas stations and build parking lots and truck stops. The man is a tycoon. But I want you to know, that the pay check he game me 50 years ago, which consisted of maybe 60-70 dollars is worth more to me than the millions I make now each year. I swear, if I knew his last name, I’d go to Israel, search for him and give him a long hug and kiss! I want to tell him: you taught me the most sacred lesson in my life.

(Shortly after the YK war, my family moved to Kuwait. We built a construction company,  we were very successful. Then in 1990 Saddam Hussein attacked and invaded Kuwait. His army came in and stole everything we owned; they took everything, even my car, my bank account. Everything! I could not buy milk for my kids. And these were our Arab brothers. I thought to myself, wow, look at the difference between the Jewish guy, Moshe, who after two months of war came with the army looking for me to give me my paycheck, so I can feed my brothers; while in Kuwait they took everything from me.)

Here is an Arab who understands the gift of being a Jew and living Judaism.

HILTON Towel

Teddy came home from camp missing his beautiful, large, fluffy towel. The mother calls camp: You guys allow thievery. Someone stole my son’s towel. You guys should be ashamed of yourself and close down your camp.

The camp director responds: Relax. Nobody stole it. It was probably lost. Let me search for it. Would it have any identifying sign on it?

She says, of course. It says in big words: HILTON.

The lie detector

 Moscowitz decides there is too much lying in his home. So he buys a lie detector, an AI robot that beeps every time someone utters a lie.

That night, mom asks their daughter Shirley, “did you clean up your room? Last time I checked, it looked like a hurricane hit it?”

Of course, mom! My room is spotless.

--Beep!

ooops… Yes, mom, I was actually on tic-tac.

Okay. Timmy, mom says, have you done your school work tonight? You have a big exam coming up!

--Of course, mom!

 --Beep!

Oops…. mom, I was actually watching a movie.

Was it an appropriate and clean movie?           

--Of course, mom.

Beep!

Dad is outraged. “I never watched such inappropriate stuff when I was your age.”

Beep!

Mom looks at dad and says: Well, he’s certainly your son.

The Story of Bats - They Fall not Fly

Did you ever try hanging yourself upside down? It’s fun for a few seconds, but after a while it will become difficult because the blood will rush straight to your head. There is one mammal, one animal, that sleep upside down: bats.

The reason is fascinating. The only mammal in the world that can fly are bats. But while bats can fly, they can’t take off. Technically they are mammals and not birds, or insects, so they can’t just take off and fly. Birds can take off from a dead stop by simply flapping their wings, and raising themselves, but bats can’t.  Birds’ wings are long and feathered and can generate enough thrust to achieve liftoff, but bats’ wings are basically large, webbed hands. Once airborne, a bat can use these webbed hands to sustain the flight over long distances and steer seamlessly, but they have a problem: they can’t do the necessary flapping to take off.  Bats also cannot run so it would be almost impossible for them to take off from the ground.

So what do bats do if they can fly, but can’t take off? The answer is they don’t take off -- they fall down!

Bats sleep upside down. Their claws effortlessly “click on” to the branch they want to hang from, and they enjoy a peaceful, relaxed rest. (Because they are so compact, the circulation is also not a challenge.) When they wake up and want to begin their “day,” bats do not need to generate lift to begin flight. They just drop out of their bed, open their wings and off they go. In fact, the momentum generated by their fall becomes the impetus that allows them to fly!

Creating the Thirst

Now we can understand the words of the Talmud about repentance. When I repent out of fear, my sins are considered mistakes. Because as it turns out, I did not understand the implications, hence I transgressed. So it is considered an accidental fall. I hurt myself, but it was an accident. It was not malicious. It was ignorance. G-d forgives mistakes.  

But if I do teshuvah with love, with enthusiasm and excitement, when I find a passion in my relationship with my soul, my G-d, my spouse, my authenticity—says the Alter Rebbe—then I discover that the very falling down is what allowed me to fly!

Because the very downfall creates a thirst, an honesty, humility, yearning, authenticity, pining, that allows me to connect with my own truth, with other people, and with G-d, in a way I could have never achieved before. Knowing the pain of darkness, is what fuels my passion for the good and the true. 

STORY: ROOM SERVICE FEE

 Two Jewish merchants in olden day Europe were travelling home from fair. It was late on

Friday, but the roads were icy and muddy. To their dismay, they realized they were going to have

to stop for Shabbos somewhere along the way. With no other choice, they stopped at a nearby

town, and knocked on the first door they spotted with a mezuzah on it, mortified at showing up

uninvited to someone’s house. But Shabbos is Shabbos, and you must do what you must do.

When an old man came to the door, the merchants excused themselves for showing up so late

and uninvited. The host told them they were welcome to stay with him—but only for the price of

five-hundred rubles. The men looked at each other in disbelief—“That’s more expensive than the

Four Seasons!”—but with no other choice they forked over the money and got ready for the holy

day.

Returning home from shul that night, they found a beautiful table laden with delicacies.

Having paid so much money for the privilege, they figured they might as well get comfortable

and enjoy themselves. And what a feast it was. They shared words of Torah with their host, sang

niggunim, and ate and drank more heartily than they had in a long time. This repeated itself the

following morning and afternoon.

As they said goodbye after Shabbos, the host handed them back a purse with all the

money they paid. “This is yours,” he said simply. The men were baffled. “What do you mean?”

they asked “Wasn’t that the fee for our lodging here?”

The man explained: “When you arrived at my door yesterday, I could tell you were

uncomfortable. You didn’t want to bother me, and you didn’t want to spend Shabbos in a

stranger’s home. But I wanted to you to enjoy your stay and feel like you belong here—and the

only way I could think of was to have you pay for it! If you paid for it, you would no longer feel

like I was doing you a favor. As you can see, it worked—I saw how much you enjoyed

yourselves! Now that you’ve enjoyed Shabbos, you can take the money back—and I’ll take the

mitzvah.”

Two hours before Shabbos

 Two hours before Shabbos on a long summer Friday afternoon, Moshe, like thousands of

other Brooklyn Jews, is racing up to the Catskills to join his family for Shabbos. Up

ahead he spots a car stalled on the side of the road with a flat tire, and a yarmulke-clad

driver standing next to it trying to figure out what to do. “Oy,” Moshe thinks to himself,

“if I don’t help him out, he’s going to be stuck for Shabbos.” With that, Moshe brings his

car to a screeching halt and helps the poor man put on his spare.

As the two men part ways, Moshe sticks out his hand and says warmly, “have a

good Shabbos!” The other driver just stares at him blankly. Moshe tries again in

Hebrew—“Shabbat Shalom!”—and Yiddish—"Git Shabbos!”—but to no avail; the man

has no idea what Moshe’s saying. Exasperated, Moshe says, “Are you Jewish?!” The

driver answers in the negative.

“So why in the world are you wearing that yarmulke on your head,” Moshe

demands.

“Oh,” the man explains, “my mother taught me that. She was a devout Catholic,

but she once told me that if I ever get in trouble I should put on one of these little black

caps, and some Jew will come help me!”

Ellas Songs