​In Shemot 17:8 ("And Amalek came and battled with Yisrael in Refidim"), the Kli Yakar mentions the nefarious plot of Amalek:

According to our Sages, the word “karcha” has several implications:

• occurred
• happened
• became cold
• wasted seed

The Kli Yakar doesn’t detail further exactly how Amalek infiltrated male-male relations into Am Yisrael, but he does explain at length how the initial breach — the tumah of strife — created an opening for Amalek’s nefarious plan.
 
(You can learn more about Amalek exploiting our spiritual breaches in the Kli Yakar on Parshat Vayishlach.)

​In today’s Jewish world, the only Jews really striving for peace are Orthodox Jews —though not all of them.

Having been Conservative surrounded by a lot of Reform and very assimilated at times, then Modern Orthodox and Dati-Leumi, then chareidi Litvish BT to Sephardi chareidi (with a thing for Breslov) now, I can tell you that the only Jews who really strive to connect positively with all Jews — including those who are not like them and even reject them — are Orthodox Jews (though not all of them).
 
Maybe once (in a book) did I ever hear a non-Orthodox Jew describe Orthodox Jews with anywhere near the same understanding and compassion with which many Orthodox Jews describe non-Orthodox Jews. (I’m not saying that such non-Orthodox Jews do not exist. I’m saying that I did not encounter them, whether personally or even in a magazine article — except for a couple of passages in one thick book.)
 
In fact, many Orthodox Jews can be even more sympathetic & generous-minded toward their non-religious fellows than toward their religious fellows.
 
And Amalek has seized on this division, even though the connection between interpersonal strife and mishkav zachur is difficult to make.

​I guess mishkav zachur is a particularly nasty way to cut down Am Yisrael with immorality.
 
The Kli Yakar emphasizes that the strife removes natural protection from us while the immorality removes spiritual protection from us.
 
This is why we are seeing such massive push for acceptance of mishkav zachur in our times. Even some frum Jews have adopted an embracing attitude.
 
Note: I don’t criticize the fact that someone has this taavah. I oppose acceptance of mishkav zachur as a perfectly decent & legitimate lifestyle—it’s like saying that other serious Torah prohibitions, like baseless character assassination or chilul Shabbat or stealing or murder, are totally legitimate lifestyle choices that can find leniency within the Torah.
 
Please see What of a "Lashon Hara Pride" Movement? for one analogy of that.
 
It’s no coincidence that as Germany’s Jews made strife against their fellow frum Jews (including outright disdain of ostjuden — their fellow Jews in Poland, etc.) that Berlin became the mishkav zachur capital of the world prior to World War II, with some assimilated anti-Torah Jews falling under that Amalekite influence and fighting for mishkav zachur acceptance in German society & law.

(Please see It's Berlin All Over Again for more.)
 
Furthermore, the current movement in favor of transitioning gender identity touted as “unprecendented!” actually has roots in ancient Mesopotamia.

Archaeologists discovered a hymn by a Sumerian priestess (circa 2300 BCE) from Avraham Avinu’s hometown of Ur, who boasted of her occult ability to have successfully “changed men into women!”

(Please see Why, This Reminds Me of Ancient Mesopotamia! & If the Torah is So Adamant, Then That Must Mean Something: Why Polytheism Really is So Awful for more on that topic.)
 
Clearly, all this mishkav zachur and gender identity confusion has roots in ancient dark spiritual systems.
 
It’s all kochot hatumah & avodah zarah — and it’s not new at all.
 
And they are trying to push mishkav zachur acceptance into Eretz Yisrael.

This is all an AMALEKITE STRATEGY to DESTROY AM YISRAEL.

Because the promoters of toeva orientations whomp everyone over the head with the club of "compassion," those with the correct moral & ethical attitudes are made to feel uncompassionate, cruel, insensitive, and ignorant.

That's why it is so important to remember that the acceptance of toeva lifestyles is an Amalekite strategy for destruction and not a real movement for compassion or social "progress."

So what is the regular powerless person supposed to do about it?

As a frum person who has worked in kiruv and was even a rebbetzin for a blessedly short while, I realize that I cannot convince Jews committed to anti-Torah ideologies (Reform, socialism, communism, feminism, Leftism, etc.) not to make strife. (Some frum people can — sometimes. But I discovered that I personally cannot.)
 
However, as a frum person, I can:

• work on not making strife with my husband or my neighbors.
• foster harmonious sibling relationships among my children
• be careful of my attitude toward different yet Torah-true groups of Jews
• give tzedakah to precious Jews with whom I don’t share the exact same hashkafah (like Chabad or the Gush Katif kallahs)
• strive to judge favorably
• see a positive attribute in even the yuckiest Jew
• forgive those who hurt me in some way
• struggle to overcome a grudge
• I can pray positively to Hashem on behalf of all Jews. 

​I can do my part.
 
We all can.
 
It’s the only way to really fight Amalek.

Sorry for today's bizarre post, but its information correlates so well with what's happening throughout Edom today, I couldn't resist.

(Don't you love it when people say that? It's like, if you're really sooooo sorry, then why post it in the first place?)

​Oh, and you probably shouldn't read it while eating.

This blog has often mentioned Chazal’s analogy of the pig representing Esav/Edom.

With its split hoof, the pig looks kosher on the outside, but its true treifut hides inside by virtue of its non-cud-chewing digestive system.
 
But I recently discovered an even more horrifying fact about pigs: They eat humans (including, without getting too graphic, live & kicking humans).
 
As we know, kosher animals are non-predatory: cows, goats, sheep, etc.
 
But pigs not only eat humans, they can actively prey on humans.

(I did not find reports of kosher farm animals eating humans under any circumstances. Yes, kosher farm mammals can attack humans, but not for food.)
 
Some experts theorize that British pigs are the most aggressive.
 
For example, an experienced 51-year-old horsewoman was riding through New Forest in England when an enormous pig, who’d been circling a car with people inside, suddenly turned its attention on her.
 
The pig charged, spooking her horse and causing her to fall to the ground, where the pig began attacking her. Fortunately, her teenage daughter and other passers-by managed to scare off the monster pig.
 
And just to be clear: I’m not talking about the tusked boars.

I mean the humble pink or beige or spotted pigs. (Pig farmers release their pigs to wander freely through New Forest in a practice called "pannage," which creates better-quality pork by enabling pigs to feed on chestnuts, acorns, and other fresh forest nuts.)

In fact, gangs of pigs in New Forest have taken to assaulting people in organized attacks.
 
The head verderer of New Forest described pigs as normally "curious" and "docile" while promising to investigate the attacks.

Other pig farmers have been eaten by their own pigs in places like Oregon, Romania, and most recently in Russia.
 
Granted, the people had gone out to feed the pigs, meaning that the pigs were hungry, but still. While it’s hard to know exactly how these events happened, investigators point to an epileptic episode that felled one owner while a heart attack is assumed to have felled the Oregonian farmer. But in another incident, it looks like the pigs knocked over their owner, then ate her.
 
Yet this is all so weird.

​I mean, we always had a pet dog and cat when I was growing up. They never tried to attack us or knock us down for food. In fact, had any of us passed out while pouring food into their bowls, I can’t imagine them eating us as a response. I've never heard of a hungry pet dog or cat doing that. (And by hungry, I mean since last feeding time, not a starved pet.)
 
And dogs and cats are predatory carnivorous animals! Yet not as aggressive (or disloyal) as pigs, apparently.
 
Yeah, knowing animal behavior, I’m very surprised that pigs were this aggressive and carnivorous toward their own benefactors.
 
Also, we know that some wild animals, like bears, are less likely to eat a person who looks like he’s dead (i.e. an unconscious person) — but that apparently doesn’t stop a pig!
 
How odd that a seemingly friendly, harmless, mostly vegetarian barn animal can actually be more carnivorous & aggressive than dogs, cats, and bears.

Another expert pig farmer said that pigs are like sharks in that once they get a taste of blood, they can go into a feeding frenzy.

So this seemingly kosher, docile, "hum-dee-dum-dee-dum," inquisitive, friendly, domestic, mostly vegetarian omnivore can actually be a treif, predatory, vicious, blood-thirsty, treacherous carnivore who will turn on its own benefactor? 
 
What an incredibly deceptive appearance from beginning to end.

In using the pig as the symbol for Esav/Edom, our Sages were even more perceptive than I realized.

And there's actually a lot to learn from this analogy...as Jewish history unfortunately shows.

UPDATE: And with the studies that point toward humans being affected by the nature of the animals they eat, could eating pork contribute to the extreme Jekyll/Hyde nature found in some people and which has revealed itself in intermittent bursts throughout Edomite history?

But the other point I wanted to make is about the bumbling, fumbling awkwardness that sometimes accompanies ruchniut (spirituality).
 
For example, being fruitful and multiplying is a very spiritual activity.

Yet mothers of small children know that you can’t always be polished no matter how hard you try. Maybe you’ve got baby spit-up on your navy skirt and you don’t even notice.
 
Maybe you didn’t even see the person who just said hi to you because you’re trying to cross the street while pushing a double stroller with two other kids holding onto the sides and all your frantic head-twisting to keep track of everyone—plus the wind—just nudged your hair-covering over one of your eyes. 
 
Sometimes, before you know Hebrew or understand how a frum prayer service works, you get lost in the davening. You’re on the wrong page, you don’t stand up with everyone on time or else you stand at the wrong times, and so on.
 
And this is all SO NORMAL.
 
Sure, I could’ve described the above story as follows:
One morning, the young woman sitting next to me on the bus held up her siddur and invited me to say Amen to her brachot. Of course, I gladly complied—and so did the woman sitting behind us.
 
It felt so good to be in this warm nest of brachot and to bond with perfect strangers because after all, we really are one family.
 
Only in Israel!
 
And there would be nothing wrong with writing the above.

In fact, writers edit out the "static" all the time—not to deceive the reader (the warm fuzzy familial feelings are totally real)—but to make smoother reading for the reader. Otherwise, it’s like reading something transcribed from a stutterer.
 
But I decided to write it up exactly how it played out, with all the fumbles and bumbles, because that’s all part of authentic ruchnius.

You can be clumsy and awkward in mitzvot, yet feel really good all at the same time.

And that's because you ARE doing something really good—even if you're fumbling with it.
 
Those two women on the bus put me in such a good mood, despite all the awkward bits of it.
 
It felt really good, we all accomplished something spiritual we wouldn’t have otherwise, we bonded, and…
 
…it was good in Hashem's Eyes.

​For years now, we keep hearing that prior to Mashiach, Hashem will orchestrate events that will force people to pick a side—meaning, a firm side.

No more keeping one foot in the Torah world while the other goes tapping for loopholes & goodies in the anti-Torah world.
 
With the accusations of dual loyalty flung at American Jews by a Muslim Somali-reared congresswoman from Minnesota, it looks like that time is approaching.
 
This particular bit of Jew-hatred is coming from the Left, but it has also had its proponents from certain elements on the Right for a long time.
 
And yet again in Jewish history, this is the place for those of opposing ideologies to unite: antisemitism.
 
Furthermore, I’m not impressed by all the condemnations from politicians and the like—especially those who have shown themselves to be immoral, power-hungry connivers. Decrying bigotry makes them look good and they know it.
 
While the accusation of conflicting loyalties is an old one for Jew-haters, actually proving your loyalty as a Jew is a bit trickier.
 
For knowledgeable and solidly Orthodox Jews, it’s actually easier to explain because halacha demands respect for your host country’s laws while cherishing Eretz Yisrael itself (i.e. the Land, regardless of government) and fellow Jews.

What's best for the Jews in Eretz Yisrael according to Torah values is also what's best for America.

Therefore, there is no conflict of interest.
 
But for less committed and less knowledgeable Jews, answering the charge will take some soul-searching. They’ll have to examine their own priorities and values.
 
They’ll have to examine their Judaism.
 
Some Jews will reject Israel. Many on the Left already have.
 
But I think we’re seeing the initial nudges of a tipping point.

It’s also worth noting that being pushed to the wall cannot only happen to American Jews.
 
Straightening out your mind and soul before Mashiach needs to occur across Am Yisrael wherever we are.
 
In Eretz Yisrael, the Left are forming an ominous bloc. And knowing how much Israelis love to vote for new parties, it doesn’t bode well.

​While in my non-expert opinion, the Israeli elections will not force Jews to pick a side once and for all, I have a feeling that what comes AFTER the elections might force that hand.
 
In England, with the surge of the Leftist Jew-haters and Brexit struggles, plus a tsunami of immigration from cultures not known for their love of Jews, it looks like British Jewry is also on its way to a tipping point.
 
Regarding other Jewish communities around the world, I don’t know enough to say what might push them to the wall of ultimate decision.

​But even for those of us who already consider ourselves frum and firmly committed, how many of us still have at least a toe in a world that’s increasingly anti-Torah?
 
How many of us (whether consciously or unconsciously) hold onto beliefs or behaviors that aren’t supported by Judaism—or may even conflict with authentic Torah values?
 
I’m talking to myself as much as I’m talking to you.
 
And it’s good to clear out all spiritual chaff we’ve been holding onto, whether we meant to or not.
 
Days are coming…
 
And b'ezrat Hashem, our self-introspection & teshuvah will make those days sweet ones.

​Ever since I learned of it, the concept of Esav as the blueprint for Edom (the Anglo cultures today) has fascinated me.
 
Essentially, the pig symbolizes Esav/Edom. Though a pig looks kosher on the outside with its cloven hoof, its non-cud-chewing interior establishes the pig as 100% treif.
 
And as has been written on this blog already, we see this conflicting Edomite duality in dozens of different ways.

Many people do not know the real persona of their feminist icons, but even those who do often sputter incoherently about “the need to separate the artist from her art.”
 
Needless to say, despite the #metoo movement and society’s calls for justice and protecting children and exposing abusers, no one wants to hear what Rebecca Walker has to say and Moira Greyland has also met with resistance (despite court testimony and other evidence as corroboration). Ariel Leve's mother is no longer popular or iconic, so her exposé has found quite a charitable reception.
 
“Works of art excused misconduct.”
 
Couldn’t have said it better.

Note: What's chilling about the soullessness of literary superstars is that they have had and continue to have such a profound influence on culture and mentality.

Yes, the way we think is also shaped by movies & TV (some of which are based on these books).

But who can remain unaffected by the insidious influence permeating all the compelling articles & books written by volatile depraved narcissists who wish to both validate & promote their own depravity & self-indulgence? 

Who doesn’t adore the Amish?

Wholesome and appealing as shoofly pie and homemade ice cream, the Amish represent the nostalgic America of the 19th Century. 

​One of my favorite non-fiction books is written by a midwife who worked extensively with the Amish in Pennsylvania. Published in 1983, A Midwife's Story presents a compelling portrayal of her Amish neighbors and clients.

She presents the good and the bad, but she mostly views the Amish in a positive light.

Sure, I did wonder about the seemingly high rate of mentally disabling rare genetic diseases mentioned in the book (“Of the thirty-six children on the roll call, three quarters were named Stoltzfus” was my first clue as to why) and I also wondered why they went off the derech at such a high rate if Amish life was so heavenly. (Over 20% of Amish were leaving the fold at the time of the book’s writing.)
 
Over time, more ex-Amish started speaking up. For example, what the book described as “Amish women dearly loved news of others families” is described as oppressive gossiping and tale-bearing by those who’ve left.

The Amish tradition of Rumspringa (“running around”) kicks in at the age of sixteen and allows Amish youth to experience non-Amish life to enable them the free choice to decide whether to get baptized and join their church.

In 1983, Rumspringa consisted of Amish teens getting together in gangs with names like “Antiques” and “Luckies” and singing in somebody’s barn.

Girls wore a decorative stitch on the cuffs of their sleeves and the boys “might wear wristwatches, drink beer and — in extreme and serious cases — find musicians with plug-in guitars.”
 
Some Amish boys even managed to buy cars, which they kept in neighboring non-Amish towns.
 
Yet today’s Amish Rumspringa often consists of girls in heavy makeup and jeans with boys in rapper clothing and all of them completely inebriated and holding smartphones.
 
(Also, as a frum Jew, it surprised me to read of the total lack of shomer negiah in what looks like a very religious community.)
 
And despite the portrayal of the Amish has close to nature and respectful of animals, reports show the Amish working their animals to death and perpetuating puppy mills in miserable conditions.
 
Despite the impression of deep faith, many Amish orders discourage their constituents from studying the Bible (a superficial reading is okay, but actually studying it is not—although many orders also forbid reading an English translation at all and instead permit only Martin Luther’s 400-year-old High German translation, which lacks accuracy and is not understood by most Amish, who speak Pennsylvania Dutch).
 
The Amish belief system also discourages a personal relationship with God. The church elders tell them what God wants from them and for them.
 
Those who know the Amish report that suicide is double that of the general American rate, but the suicides are often reported as accidents — even when a suicide note is left behind.
 
Needless to say, not all Amish run amok during Rumspringa nor do they all abuse animals or suffer depression or abuse each other.

​And even the ex-Amish express fondness over certain aspects of their Amish upbringing.
 
However, abuse runs rampant in Amish families and churches.

​And when the former Amish leave and look for the support and validation so enthusiastically promoted in the secular world, they face rejection.

Accused of being “bitter” and their testimonies nitpicked for inconsistencies, the ex-Amish quickly learn that most people don’t want to hear the truth about a culture idealized in the American mind as gentle, charmingly quaint, and enviously wholesome.

This resistance even extends to the police, social services, shelters, and American justice system, making it even harder for Amish victims to get help and put Amish perps where they belong (in prison).
 
Handmade furniture, organic food, sweet bonnets, and gentle religiosity…please don’t wake us up from our Amish fantasy!

The more layers you peel away from Facebook, the worse it gets.
 
Most people know that there are human moderators behind Facebook’s moderation policies.
 
What most people don’t know is that these human moderators must look at some truly disturbing stuff in order to block it.

​Hour by hour & day by day, they read posts full of hatred and venom, along with watching murders and other horrors.
 
Not surprisingly, these moderators have a high turnover rate. Most people can’t last long in the job and those who leave often suffer severe PTSD afterwards.
 
Those who stick it out find themselves negatively influenced by their viewing material.

​Some moderators have become Holocaust-deniers while racist “humor” becomes popular at work. Some moderators smoke marijuana on their breaks (it’s legal in Arizona now) and then moderate the posts while stoned.
 
For reasons I wasn’t able to understand, many current moderators fear their ex-colleagues, claiming that these former moderators could return and harm or even kill the current moderators. Why? I'm really not sure. But one moderator even carries a gun to work to protect himself from this possibility.
 
Facebook offers little support or counseling to protect their moderators’ mental health. (Although I’m not sure how any kind of counseling can help a person who consistently watches someone screaming as they are murdered on a video uploaded by a drug cartel.)

Moderators receive low salaries with few perks. There’s also a definite “Big Brother” environment, with their every move tracked and moderators asked not to use the bathroom (outside of designated bathroom breaks) or pray on their breaks.

​It's not so social, this social media, is it?

So there you have it.

"I'm sooooo kosher," says the pig. "I mean, FABULOUSLY kosher. Just look at my perfectly split hoof! And I've got lots of meat at a great price! What do you need beef or lamb for?"

​But inside? Treif, treif, treif. (Not to mention all the garbage they eat.)

​"Be connected. Be discovered. Be on Facebook."

Be traumatized. Be suicidal. Become a psychopath!

*

And a lifestyle romanticized as pure, wholesome, innocent, gentle, and healthy actually isn't.

And that which promised females rights & freedoms has done more to violate, abuse, and even kill females.

​Oink, oink.

I subscribe to an e-newsletter that sends out transcribed Q&As from Rav Avigdor Miller's ztz"l lectures.

This week featured a particularly interesting question that I believe many people wonder about.

Rav Miller's answer is equally interesting (even shocking at times) and inspiring.

GREAT Torah hashkafah and guidance.

​Here it is:

QUESTION:
 
On the way into orthodoxy, if somebody is eating non-kosher salami, should he make a bracha?

I'll paraphrase the question, we'll forget about the salami. We have many people today who are still not observant, but they are definitely on the way in.

Should we consider their behavior as non-consequent, which means that they are contradicting themselves, that they are committing a paradox?

​Or shall we say that despite the fact of their non-observance, these people still are on the way to success, and they should be encouraged?

Amazing.

With thanks to A Moment with Rav Avigdor Miller Z"L for generously permitting me to use their material.

You can also sign up for these enlightening once-a-week newsletters here:
http://rmillerqa.com/

​I wanted to share what I learned from my relationship with “Malka” in the post The True Story of an Undercover Angel.
 
As mentioned in the post, I never saw Malka multi-tasking or flitting around. She did one thing at a time and wasn’t quick about it either. Yet she got everything done.
 
In fact, I think her slow quiet way was part of her success.
 
Yes, we need the speedy multitaskers. But we need ALL types of baalei chessed.
 
There is more than one way to be a baal chessed!

Another lesson learned was that Malka only ever did what she could.

I never saw her tending to young children. She never mentioned caring for other people’s babies or toddlers even as a young mother. Maybe she did so here and there in her younger years, but it wasn’t her "thing." She was more into teenagers and adults.
 
And that’s perfectly fine.
 
While sometimes we find ourselves as the only volunteer available for a chessed that hits our weak points, it’s otherwise perfectly fine to play our strengths in the chessed arena.
 
In fact, an attraction to one type of chessed or another is likely Hashem’s way of telling you where he wants you to go and what He wants you to do.
 
Unfortunately in our times, egalitarianism is huge and affects everything.

In some communities, poor families expect the same weddings as wealthy families, something unheard of in former generations. In some families, every male is expected to sit and learn full-time regardless of his other talents, his level of skill, and even if he needs medication to get through a day in kollel.

Likewise, many women feel they must excel at bikur cholim, hachnasat orchim, babysitting, crisis counseling, listening, cooking meals for the sick and post-partum, and so on.

A chassidic friend of mine who grew up in America's Fifties explained that there were women who were good with cooking, those good with baking, those good with small children, and those good with teenagers, and so on.

And each one contributed according to her strengthens, which provided the community according to its needs.
 
Unfortunately, a friend who excels at babysitting (including middle-of-the-night babysitting for couples who need to rush to the hospital to bring even more children into the world) expressed a lot of self-loathing for saying no when called upon to make part of a meal for a yoledet.
 
Yet she has absolutely nothing to feel bad about.
 
Her availability for babysitting is actually more in demand & harder to come by than a cholent or a kugel or even a salad (which can always be bought if necessary or can be found by someone else).
 
Furthermore, I think most of us – either as guests or ill people – have faced hosts or well-meaning visitors who really shouldn’t have been hosting guests or visiting the sick. Their heart wasn’t in it and they cultivated  an unpleasant experience.
 
Having said that, there are times when someone needs a place to stay or an ill person needs tending and there is no one else to do it but you, whether you are up to it or not.

So in those cases, you give it your best shot and also merit siyata d’Shmaya.
 
But in general, you should do the chessed you can do and not try to do something you despise or don’t understand. (In other words, if you’re feeling resentful or martyr-like, it’s probably a good idea to say no unless there is no other choice.)
 
Like with most things in life, you should play your strengths when and if at all possible.
 
Just like Malka found herself tending to the unseen vagrants in society and my friend found herself enabling parents to go to the hospital together in the middle of the night, secure in the knowledge that their children were in good hands, you might find yourself fulfilling a need that almost no one else can.

So play your strengths and don't get down on yourself about your weaknesses.

​Like other only-in-Israel stories, I met a spectacular yet undercover baalat chessed on the city bus over 20 years ago.

(A ba'alat or ba'al chessed is a person who excels at acts of loving-kindness, compassion, and generosity.)
 
Let’s call this baalat chessed Malka.

The couples, many of whom were young Russian immigrants alone in Eretz Yisrael, could not afford a wedding. So Malka hosted the chuppah in her own yard.
 
Malka also provided the food.
 
She hosted a wedding anywhere from once a week to every couple of months, depending. Noting her age and her slow rhythm, I asked her how she managed to cater the weddings (from her rundown narrow kitchen).
 
“They aren’t big weddings,” she explained languidly. “Just the friends and whatever family is here.”
 
Yes, except that Malka wasn’t doing simple foods – meat-stuffed zucchinis, for example, take time and skill. 
 
“When neighbors stop by,” she said, “they see what I’m doing and offer to help. Sometimes, I ask them if they wouldn’t mind helping me in the kitchen while we chat.”
 
“It doesn’t bother them?” I asked.
 
“No,” she said, her eyes widening slightly over her smile, “they’re happy to help.”
 
She also specialized in re-marrying divorced couples and took extra satisfaction in that. She described how she introduced them to mitzvah observance and gave them in her own brand of pre-marital counseling (though she didn’t call it that), explaining that there usually weren’t very serious problems, but that these couples divorced because they didn’t know what else to do.

They were decent people who simply didn’t know how to get along.

She also felt that a lack of Torah values was a serious problem in the marriage and that by getting couples to observe halacha and proper Jewish hashkafah, they could end up with a successful marriage.
 
“See this?” she said tapping long her rose-manicured fingernail on one kallah’s very low neckline. (The kallah’s face was covered in a veil so I couldn’t see her.) “I was concerned about this under the chuppah – especially with Rav Mordechai Eliyahu officiating.”
 
I frowned. Though still new to the frum scene in Eretz Yisrael, I’d already heard of Rav Mordechai Eliyahu and couldn’t imagine that such a big and important tzaddik was being mesader kiddushin for some impoverished barely-frum couple in someone’s untended backyard.
 
I still wonder if my memory is playing tricks on me. But I have clear memories of her referencing the rav several times in conversation and also seeing photos with him in front of the couple with his eyes glued to the page in front of him as he went through the Kiddushin.
 
Anyway…she continued, “But the rav said that I shouldn’t say one word!”

She made a stern face and slashed her finger through the air in recollection of his firmness about the issue.

​“He reassured me that he would just keep his eyes down so not to see anything he shouldn’t and that I should continue to be mekarev them. Eventually, he said, the kallah would realize on her own.” Her eyes widened and her eyebrows arched as she looked at me. “And you know what? That’s exactly what happened! This kallah” – she tapped the low neckline again – “this kallah now wears her neckline up to here” – Malka indicated just under her chin – “and she covers her hair too. Just like the rav said would happen. So I never tell them anything. Patience. That’s what people need. Just be patient and keep working with them and they’ll get there on their own.”
 
In addition to making shiddichum, and hosting and catering weddings, Malka also provided these couples with furniture and a couple months of rent.
 
And not just for these couples either.

Malka opened one of the mammoth folders to show them bursting with thank-you notes. Page after page from grateful recipients and social workers:

Thank you so much, Malka, for the 200 shekels! It really helped us out in a pinch.

Thank you, Malka, for providing the family with much-needed beds. (from a social worker)

​Malka, thank you SO MUCH for the cart full of groceries! You literally saved us!
 
Money, groceries, beds – page after page showed that those were the items Malka provided most.
 
I scanned the shelves full of thick folders exactly like the one on my lap.
 
“Where do you get all that money to give all this to people?” I asked.
 
She gave a ladylike laugh and an elegant shrug. “Oh…just here and there…”
 
I never did find out how she was able to finance all this.

​I found myself fascinated with her.

​This dainty, elegant petite Moroccan lady with her Queen Anne heels and her unhurried pace and serene smile – tending to the emotional, spiritual, and financial needs of people who were desperate, lost, broken, living in miserable circumstances, or just needed a hand.
 
I shadowed her when I could, spending a couple of Shabbats with her and accompanying her on her rounds.
 
One time, she took me around to different hovels.
 
I had no idea there was this whole underground in Jerusalem. Old Arab hovels made of stones – and no plaster or paint on the inside either. Just an old stone edifice. They’re easy to miss because to access them, you need to turn off the sidewalk into a grassy, pebbly area until you reach a flight of stairs leading down to the door of the hovel.
 
From ground level, you just see the roof, which looks like a pile of stones or an abandoned hovel (which it is).
 
But one flight down into the ground stands the door.
 
Equipped with a basket of tea, food, and a thermos of hot water, we stood at one door as Malka knocked.
 
No answer.
 
But she kept knocking until Malka decided to open the door a crack and peeked in, telling the person who she was and that she’d brought a friend. I was scandalized by this breach of etiquette. What was Malka doing? She gestured for me to come in with her and whispered reassurance that this was definitely okay.
 
So I hesitantly followed her in.
 
I just remember slate gray stone all around when we entered into what seemed like a very narrow kitchen. The kitchen opened up into a narrow room with a bed upon which lay a person with an arm over the face.
 
Malka spoke in a quiet neighborly way as the person tried to sit up, then fell back again, then sat up again. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. The person had extremely cropped salt ‘n’ pepper hair and wore a T-shirt and sweat pants over a pudgy non-descript body. The voice could also belong to a high-pitched man or a low-pitched woman.
 
I tried to catch the person’s name when Malka made introductions, but it was also something ambiguous like “Yonah.”
 
Inwardly, I grimaced with discomfort.

​Because Hebrew pronouns and verbs are either masculine or feminine with no gender-neutral form, I couldn’t say a word to this person for fear of getting the gender wrong and causing offense.
 
Malka seemed perfectly at home and offered tea, to which the person replied there was no electricity. With a smile, Malka held up the thermos and proceeded to make tea for all of us.
 
The person seemed very grateful for Malka’s visit and the tea, and as I strained to hear how Malka addressed the person, I realized it was a woman. A very butch-looking woman.
 
Having roused herself to sit up in the bed chair, she invited Malka to sit down and graciously invited me to take a seat in the only chair. Malka perched herself on end of the mattress.
 
Then Malka started chatting and the woman brightened up. She mentioned that she wasn’t well and Malka responded with sympathy. But our “hostess” included me in the conversation too and I wondered at the transformation from impoverished homeless neglected nebbuch to a hostess with guests and dignity.
 
Here we were, three ladies taking tea and making polite conversation – in an abandoned underground hovel with no electricity or indoor plumbing.

​As a side note, when my husband found out I was accompanying Malka to these places during our first year of marriage, his eyes widened in horror and he started shaking. Growing up in one of Israel’s poor delinquent immigrant neighborhoods, he was bit more familiar with these types.
 
“These people are drug addicts!” he said. “How can you go to their homes? That’s so dangerous!”
 
That had never occurred to me. “I didn’t see any sign of drugs,” I protested.
 
“Well, their children then,” said my husband. “Even if those people are okay, their children could just show up.” He got shaky again.
 
Then he explained that in Israel, it was very odd to have an older person abandoned to living in a primitive hovel. There are family, friends, social services, and the like. Why can’t the person avail herself of these resources?
 
“Because they don’t have them,” said my husband. “Either their children want nothing to do with them after all they put them through or their children are addicts and criminals who don’t care about their parents – and if so, why did those children turn out so badly? Who let’s their mother or father live in such conditions?”
 
And regarding social services and health funds, etc., my husband pointed out that there must be a reason why these people to don't use these services. Maybe they want to stay under the radar? Maybe they have unsavory reasons?
 
Ohhhh….
 
(And now Malka’s confidence at entering uninvited made sense. The person indeed wanted her company and her goodies, but wasn’t able to rouse herself to respond.)
 
Yet everyone was so lovely and sympathetic as seen through Malka’s eyes!
 
Yet I had to admit that my husband’s points made a lot of sense.

​Also, growing up in secular America, it’s perfectly natural to find older people neglected and ignored by their offspring, so I didn’t think anything of it.
 
While there are many dedicated adult offspring in the US, I’d noticed the vehemence with which many adult children wanted to rush their aging parents into a home. Yeah, of course it’s often necessary, but these adult children do so without much sympathy or compassion for what their aging parent is facing. And once shut away, some people rarely talk to or visit their parents.
 
Too many adult children seem all too ready to pull the plug on aging parents in hospitals under the faux compassion of not “wanting them to suffer.” And after the funeral, your sympathy is met with a blithe, “Well, it was just her time to go!” or a cheery “Well, she’d been deteriorating anyway, so it was better this way!” – with cheerful music blasting in the background.
 
So I didn’t realize that abandoned parents might be the sign of serious dysfunction in the parent or criminal activity on the part of the children.   

​It fascinated me how a classy lady like Malka put on no airs when she was with these people. They felt totally comfortable with her. Also, there was something about the way she related to them that gave them back their self-respect and human dignity.
 
But she didn’t view herself as better than these people, just luckier. And I think that’s the secret to being a truly humble baal chessed. It has to come from inside, that you don’t approach such people as a queen lowering herself to extend largess to the needy.
 
I’ve noticed that other baalei chessed are the same; they feel lucky not superior. They just feel like they could be in the same place as these people, except they were given better lives.
 
Yet how had Malka found these people?
 
She just noticed, she said. She’d see these hovels and go to investigate. Or people noticed and told her.

​As I got to know Malka, it became obvious the she was the address people turned to when they discovered deprivation of some sort. And not just regular people, but social workers and cops also turned to Malka.
 
In fact, several decades earlier when she was raising teenagers herself, she got calls from the police in the middle of the night:
 
“We found this Jewish girl wandering around the Muslim Quarter and she refuses to give her name or say where she lives. She doesn’t want to go home. Can we bring her to you?”
 
Malka always said yes.
 
(If a teenage Jewish girl in Israel prefers being among Arabs in the middle of the night, then her home is BAD.)
 
Malka and her family lived in a larger home back then and she set up chairs and sofas in an alcove off the main living area. When the cops dropped the girl off, Malka led her to the alcove, where the girl would huddle up with her head down and not speak or eat.
 
Fortunately (yet unfortunately), she wouldn’t be the only girl there.
 
Malka explained how she just let them sit there until they realized there were other girls around them in the same position. Slowly, they started talking to each other:
 
“Do you live here?”
 
“No. I was brought here by the police.”
 
“What? You were? So was I!”
 
“Really? What were you doing?”
 
“I was wandering around the streets in the middle of the night because I didn’t want to go home and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
 
“Really? Me too.”
 
“Really? You too? I thought I was the only one who felt that way. Why didn’t you want to go home?”
 
And hesitantly, they started talking about what was going on at home.
 
“Really? That happened to you too? I thought it was just me!”
 
These girls teetered between their silent huddled positions and raising their heads to lean forward and whisper with their fellow traumatized girls.
 
After 3 or 4 days of this, they were able uncurl themselves and come out of their lethargy, at which point Malka could approach them.
 
Malka nurtured them into becoming frum. She taught them how to run a home by allowing them to become full participants in running her home. They stayed for 2-4 years, depending. Eventually, she found them shidduchim and married them off.
 
“How did you find husbands for them?” I wanted to know.
 
“They needed sensitive boys, of course,” Malka answered. “Understanding boys. But boys from a background like theirs, boys who also hadn’t grown up frum, but became religious later. So that’s who I found for them.”
 
“And these boys didn’t mind marrying girls from such a dysfunctional background?” I said, still perplexed because this flew in the face of what American society said and stereotypes about frum people.
 
Now Malka looked as stern as she was able. “It’s not the girls’ fault,” she stated. “These are very nice girls! It’s not their fault how their fathers were.”
 
“Of course it’s not their fault!” I rushed to defend myself against the misunderstanding. “And I’m really glad for them that they landed in your home and that you did so much for them.”
 
But then I needed to know if they became functional mothers and wives.
 
“Yes,” said Malka, cocking her head to one side and looking totally mystified by the question. “Why not?”

And she emphasized again how these were very good girls who just needed a leg up, girls who wanted to cultivate warm homes and loving families of their own. And were just fine once they were given the skills to do so.
 
“How many girls did you do this for?” I asked.
 
“Oh, I don’t remember exactly…” she said. “Ten? Twelve?”
 
“You had ten or twelve traumatized teenage girls living in your home?” I said.
 
“Well, not all at one time,” she said. “It was spread out over the years.”
 
“Okay, but still!” I said. “How did you do that?”
 
Her eyes widened at the question, then her face her lovely smile expanded over her face. “We had a large home,” she said.
 
“Okay…” I said.
 
But as we all know, a large home is not enough to explain chessed on this level.

​You need so much patience, empathy, insight, and wisdom to nurture profoundly traumatized teenagers back into good emotional health.
 
So I kept probing to discover where she had the emotional and mental resources to do all this for so many girls for so many years, but she honestly did not understand my mystification.
 
So she just kept repeating the following:
 
“Well,” she said, “our sons didn’t live at home, so that wasn’t a problem. We sent them to learn in yeshivah abroad to avoid the draft…”
 
“They were basically good girls who just needed a good home and some nurturing.”
 
“It’s easy to understand them after all they suffered. I never judged them.”
 
“Hayah lanu bayit gadol – We had a large home.”
 
And her husband was okay with everything. Heck, he financed the whole thing! 

Anyway, I finally came to the conclusion that she saw dysfunctional people not as dysfunctional, but as basically decent people who are down on their luck. They encountered difficult circumstances and some made mistakes (if you can call lifelong drug addiction a “mistake”), but that can all be remedied with a lot of time, patience, and gentle guidance.

​And even if it can’t be remedied – like maybe the androgynous woman living in a hovel will never get her act together – it’s still important to be kind and compassionate.
 
Also, Malka wasn’t just empathetic, she was an empath.
 
She intuited what people needed, even people who were very different than herself. And while I think empathy can be cultivated, I also think that her special depth of perception is a gift. And she used it well!
 
Throughout all this, I imagined that Malka grew up with a very special mother. But when I asked her about her parents, she immediately denied that her mother was the source of influence and described their family life back in Morocco:
 
“My mother sat all day on silk cushions eating bon-bons,” she said. “Merchants came to the home to display different fabrics from which she could choose to have yet another dress made.”

​Then her face lit up as she said, “But my father…! My father was a wealthy man who kept two boxes by the back door. One was full of clothes and the other was full of money. We weren’t ever allowed to answer that door. When someone knocked, my father hurried to answer it. He opened it a crack and asked what the person needed. If they said clothes, he sank his arms into the box of clothes and heaved out a pile of clothes while closing his eyes tight and he thrust his armful of clothes through the slightly open door to give the person the clothes. If they needed money, he sank his arms into the box of money and passed handfuls of money through the opening. If they still needed more, then he gave them more.”

​She paused. “He never saw to whom he was giving. He never knew who received the money and clothes.”
 
In this way, her father kept the dignity and privacy of the recipient, as per the laws of tzedakah.
 
Malka’s face glowed as she spoke of her father’s chessed.
 
When they came to Israel, Malka was fifteen and ended up being the oldest of 10 children. In severely reduced circumstances, her father did what he could to keep his wife as close as possible to the lifestyle to which she was accustomed. He toiled at more than one job, including that of a streetsweeper.
 
Malka balked at her respectable formerly successful father sweeping the streets. She even voiced her objection to him working so hard and at such menial jobs – only to keep her mother in the role of pampered princess.
 
“I prefer sweeping the streets of Yerushalayim to being a businessman in chutz l’Aretz,” he declared. Then he explained to Malka that he felt it was his duty to care for his wife in this way, explaining that the reduction in circumstances was a lot to ask of her.
 
“But you’ve made the adjustment!” Malka protested.
 
Yes, her father said. But he felt he was man enough to take it.
 
I think that also, without the servants they’d had in Morocco, a lot of the housework and childcare fell on Malka. Plus, if I remember correctly, the indulging of the mother came at some expense to the other family members.

​At seventeen, they married off Malka to a local Moroccan boy who’d fought in the Irgun and learned chevruta with another teenage boy who later became one of the Sefardi gedolei hador.

There weren’t many committed religious boys to choose from at that time and he seemed a good prospect. And indeed, Malka’s husband remained committed to Torah and mitzvot and raised their sons to become yeshivah bachurs, which was an impressive feat in those times. (Apparently, sending them to yeshivah abroad was indeed the saving of them.)
 
But he was never Malka’s equal in middot or wisdom and he never achieved much in Torah. When I knew him as an older man with a white beard, he clearly wasn’t a knowledgeable Jew either.
​
(If you’re wondering how that can be when he originally learned chevruta with a budding gadol hador, I can tell you that a more skilled partner can carry the chevruta. Meaning, one partner is doing most of the learning and explaining while the other listens – but doesn’t necessarily retain.)
 
And that was another remarkable thing about Malka: She went through life with a partner who was not close to her level and didn’t have much to give her spiritually, as ideally there should be within a Jewish marriage. But certainly, he deserves credit for financing Malka’s chessed activities and for hosting a dozen runaways in his home over the years.

​In our times, yirat Shamayim — fear of Heaven — has become underrated and underappreciated.

In some cases, it's even despised.
 
True, great tzaddikim have been saying for generations that our generations cannot handle the pious fear expected of our ancestors.
 
But that doesn’t mean that yirah — yirat Shamayim and yirat Hashem and yirat ha'onesh (fear of Heavenly punishment) — should be ignored completely.

There is way too much emphasis throughout Tanach & Chazal to dismiss the necessity of yirah.

Particularly if you read or hear about those who’ve suffered in the Afterlife, whether in Rav Yehudah Petiyah’s stories in Minchat Yehudah or Rabbi Alon Anava’s near-death experience or anything else — and how even a moment of sincere regret could have saved them so much suffering — we need to realize that there is indeed a Judge and Judgement.
 
Personally, there have been times when I refrained from doing or saying something only because the works of tzaddikim repeatedly emphasized the fact that I’ll eventually need to face the consequences of my negative actions.
 
Furthermore, so much of Judaism, whether Tehillim or anything else, emphasizes how deeply Hashem probes your true motivations. You can fool others (or think you're fooling others) and you can fool yourself, but Hashem knows the real reason why you decided to do what you did.
 
For example, there are times I really wanted to indulge in lashon hara, but the idea of facing that particularly odious sin later kept my words muzzled. Sure, I could lie to myself and invent some kind of toelet, a beneficial reason, but Hashem knows the truth and deep down, so do I.
 
Having said that, many people are inspired by the idea that for every moment you refrain from indulging in particularly gratifying lashon hara, you create a light that even high angels cannot perceive. I’m inspired by that too.

​But sometimes, the fear aspect makes a better muzzle.
 
It depends.

It also depends on your individual personality and what you personally need to bring out the best of your soul-potential.

Excessive fear and harsh atonements have been discouraged by some of our greatest, like the Arizal.
 
In the chapter on Teshuvah, the Pele Yoetz explains in the name of the Arizal that the little done in our generation is considered like the great performed in previous generations.
 
Why?
 
The klippah (the external spiritually negative "shell") is stronger and our sins are stronger, making us weaker.
 
In Chulin 84a, Chazal writes: “Father was from a healthy family, but we need to borrow money and eat well.”
 
This explains it all in a nutshell.
 
Spiritually speaking, we are the weaker, sicker descendants. If we eat minimally like our father from a healthy family, we can become even weaker, sicker, and die, chas v’shalom. So we need to “borrow money and eat well” just to survive.
 
The Pele Yoetz goes on to explain that we are like a man who owes a great debt, goes bankrupt, and lacks the means to pay in full.
 
How can we shoulder such a burden?

The Pele Yoetz advises us to:

• Speak like a poor man (i.e., admit the bankruptcy & impoverishment)
• Show your “accounts” (i.e., “See? This is what I owe, and this and this, and here are my empty coffers.”)
• Continue until your “creditor” agrees that in light of the facts, you should be allowed to pay back over time whenever and as much as you are able — but no more than that because you simply don’t have it.

(Yet you will certainly give what you can when you can.)
 
This is how we should speak with Hashem.
 
Yes, it’s the opposite of our generation’s voices promoting self-assurance, self-praise, self-aggrandizement and self-cheerleading, constantly pumping up ourselves and tweeting/posting our most minor accomplishments.

Yay me! Rah, rah, rah!

(Note: It's possible to serve Hashem with joy & without self-aggrandizement. It's also possible feel joy about a spiritually healthy fear of Hashem. It all goes together.)

​But really, we should be saying to Hashem: “I know I should be doing more and I wish I could do more, but this is my best for now. Please forgive me and please help me. Please give me what I need to make it through.”

And feel happy about that.
 
As the Pele Yoetz concludes:

So we should be patient and understanding with ourselves and others.
 
But not completely ignore the benefit of a spiritually healthy fear of God.

You can’t have spirituality without justice & laws, without mishpat & mishpatim.
 
This is why all these countries bursting with Eastern spiritual practices and so-called rejection of worldly desires and vices also host terrible human rights abuses and deplorable living conditions with little hope of escape.
 
People grumble (or at least wonder at) the myriads of detailed laws within Judaism. It seems so nitpicky! And who needs all that...especially after the astounding spiritual experience at Har Sinai?

Yet Parshat Mishpatim imprints upon us the dire importance of creating a society based on justice. If you want real spirituality, then you absolutely must care about damages – even the most minor.
 
You can’t do a mitzvah through speeding, double-parking, breaking something, or stealing (like taking a Gemara to study without permission from the Gemara’s owner).
 
Talking loudly in divrei Torah while walking through the streets late at night when people are sleeping is not okay.
 
Even something like sharing a holy word with another while suffering from halitosis is not okay.
 
For more, please see Rav Avigdor Miller’s dvar Torah:
Parshas Mishpatim: Preface to Chassidus​