One of the greatest writers of all times, Leo Tolstoy, wrote:

“What is a Jew? Let us see what kind of peculiar creature the Jew is, which all the rulers and all the nations have separately abused and molested, oppressed and persecuted, trampled and butchered, burned and hanged – and in spite of all this yet alive.

“What is a Jew who has never allowed himself to be led astray by all the earthy possessions which his oppressors and persecutors constantly offered in order that he should change his faith and forsake his own Jewish religion?

“The Jew is that sacred being who has brought down from Heaven the everlasting fire and has illumined with it the entire world. He is the religious source, spring and fountain of which all the rest of the peoples have drawn their beliefs and their religions.

“The Jew is the pioneer of liberty. Even in those olden days, when the people where divided into but two distinct classes, slaves and masters – even so long ago had a law of Moses prohibited the practice of keeping a person in bondage for more than six years.

“This Jew is the pioneer of civilization. Ignorance was condemned in olden Palestine even more than it is today in civilized Europe.

“The Jew is the emblem of civil and religious toleration. ‘Love the stranger and the sojourner.’ Moses commands, ‘Because you have been strangers in the land of Egypt.’ And this was said in those remote and savage times when the principal ambition of the races and nations consisted in crushing and enslaving one another.

“The Jew is the emblem of eternity. He whom neither slaughter or torture of thousands of years could destroy, he whom neither fire nor sword nor inquisition was able to wipe off the face of the Earth.

“He who was the first to produce the oracles of G-d. He who has been for so long the guardian of prophecy, and who transmitted it to the rest of the world – such a Nation cannot be destroyed.

“The Jew is as everlasting as is eternity itself.”

Agents of love and hope

This is what hundreds of generations of Jews believed and lived. It is what they taught their children, it is what every Jewish mother shared with her child through lullabies and conversation. This is what our grandmothers, over thousands of years, taught us:

At Sinai, we were given a torch to illuminate the world with love, goodness, kindness, holiness and give history the dignity of purpose.

At Sinai, we were provided with the strongest argument for peace between people: that we were all created by the same G-d, and we all reflect G-d. Without this belief, is there anything that really unites us all?

At Sinai, we were entrusted with the Torah, a blueprint, a manual to heal the world, to reveal the innate organic oneness in every human being, as well as in all of humanity and the entire universe, and bring the world, step by step, to a state of redemption, to the coming of Moshiach.

At Sinai, we were summoned to pierce the veneer of materialism which eclipses the inner soul of every person and the inner soul of the world. The entire Torah and each mitzvah teaches us how to access our inner soul, our inner G-dliness, and the inner G-dliness of the universe. Our responsibility is to blast this truth to the world, with the way we live, the way we interact with people, the way we treat our children and our neighbors, until the entire world will bespeak the truth that “G-d is One and His name is One.”

At Sinai, we were given the opportunity to experience intimacy with our Creator, with the source of all life. With the study of Torah, we kiss G-d. With the action of a mitzvah, we embrace G-d.

And when Jewish children got this message, they naturally proclaimed:

“How fortunate we are! How Good is our portion; how sweet is our lot; how splendid is our inheritance!”

This article is in Memory of the 11 souls ripped from this world by an act of Anti-Semitism.

May their Memory be an everlasting Lesson to us all That we all need to illuminate this world with love, goodness and kindness!

Rabbi Tzvi Dechter is the director of Chabad of North Broward Beaches, located in the Venetian Isle Shopping Center at 2025 E. Sample Rd. in Lighthouse Point. For all upcoming events, please visit www.JewishLHP.com.

A student at Stanford University asked his professor permission to skip class because of Rosh Hashanah.

“I am sorry,” the professor said. “You must attend this class. Your holiday cannot cancel it.”

“But professor, it is Rosh Hashanah!”

“Sir, do you realize that the Academic calendar of Stanford has been already arranged 10 years ago? A decade ago, we planned out our entire academic year, to ensure maximum achievement and success. Do you really expect me to change that for you now?”

The student went to his fraternity room, came back a few minutes later with a Jewish calendar.

“Sir, look at this calendar. It has been established not 10 years ago, but 2000 years ago, by the great sage Rabbi Hillel, who established the exact date for every Jewish holiday over the next 3000 years!”

The professor remained silent.

Jews often say “Rosh Hashanah is late this year” or “The holidays are early this year.” In fact, the holidays never are early or late; they are always on time, according to the Jewish calendar!

That student in Stanford inspired me. Don’t let the world change your calendar; let your calendar change the world!

The Hebrew word for ‘secular’ – chol — also means ‘sand.’ This tells us how Judaism views secularism. Secularism is not bad. It is just like sand. Sand does not possess the power of stability. It shifts and moves; it is swept by the sea and blown by the passing wind. It lacks roots.

This is what our children lack without religion in their life. They can be wonderful people, but they are deprived of roots. They are on their own, detached from any constitutive commitments to the past, the future, tradition, a set of relationships, a substantive identity, a sense of binding loyalties, a firm foundation of values, ideals, dreams and morals. That individual, the bearer of rights but not responsibilities, free to enter any lifestyle but at home in none, is the human equivalent of chol, “like chaff blown by the wind.”

What is kodesh — holiness? Our connection to the past and our face turned to what is above. Kodesh – holiness — is the antidote to the rootlessness of chol — Secularism. In this world view, Rosh Hashanah is never late. We do not fix and bend our calendar to every passing wind. A person needs roots, a person needs an unshakable core. That is religion.

Kedushah — holiness means connection, to the universe beyond the self, to generations past and future, to a community of meaning, and to a transcendental reality that links us, ethically and existentially, to the totality of being. It is a voice which speaks persuasively of the covenant of marriage, the sanctity of the family, the moral challenge of parenthood; it is the Jewish view of community, collective responsibility, and the values of tsedakah and faith. It is the importance of education as the conversation between the generations, and the school as the citadel of civilization. It is the deeply humane Jewish view of the sanctity of life and its implications for medical ethics. It is our responsibility as guardians of the natural environment for the sake of future generations.

Above all, it is the voice teaching us of the dignity of human life, our power to change the world one mitzvah at a time, and the meaningfulness of history as the arena of redemption.

Have a happy and healthy sweet new year!

Rabbi Tzvi Dechter is the director of Chabad of North Broward Beaches, located in the Venetian Isle Shopping Center at 2025 E. Sample Rd. in Lighthouse Point. For all upcoming events, please visit www.JewishLHP.com. See Pg. 7 for information on their Rosh Hashanah services, and more about the holiday on pg. 6.

There was once a new rabbi who came to his first pulpit. And, on the first Shabbat that he was there, he delivered a good sermon. Afterwards, everyone congratulated him. They all loved the sermon.

The next Shabbat, everyone came to shul, ready to hear the rabbi’s words. But he gave the same sermon. I don’t just mean a similar sermon, I mean the same exact sermon, word for word. No one knew what to say, so they went home quietly.

The third week, the rabbi got up to speak, the congregation was perfectly still, and lo and behold, again the same sermon, word for word.

This time they had to do something, so the president and the search committee were designated to go and speak with the rabbi. They made an appointment and came into his office.

“Rabbi, it is so wonderful to have you here and we want you to feel very comfortable, but there is just one thing that is causing some concern. The first week you were here, you gave a very good sermon, and the second week, you gave the same sermon, and this week again the same exact sermon?!”

The rabbi was unperturbed.

“Well, of course, I gave the same sermon; you’re still acting in the same way!”

The first thing that our Patriarchs and Matriarchs understood about communication and education was how wrong this rabbi was, how detached he was from his audience. Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebeccah, Jacob and Rachel, and Leah, knew that sermons, speeches and lectures will never do the trick. It’s all about the HEART.

Years ago, I came across a one-liner that had a profound impact on me personally: “Every rabbi has only one sermon — the way he lives his life.” It’s all too true. We can preach from today until tomorrow, but if we don’t “walk the talk” and live the game we purport to play, we will leave our audiences unmoved, cold and apathetic. The most eloquent orators will fail to make an impression if their listeners know that their message is hollow and isn’t backed up by genuine personal commitment.

As parents, we face the same challenge, we can have the best speeches in our minds, but, if we don’t walk the walk, than our most important audience will not grow. Our most important audience is our children and they demand HEART! When children see the way we parents behave, that inspires them to follow us.

So enough of the advice giving and the preaching; now, let us begin by watching our behavior and leading by example. Now, go inspire a generation.

Rabbi Tzvi Dechter is the director of Chabad of North Broward Beaches, located in the Venetian Isle Shopping Center at 2025 E. Sample Rd. in Lighthouse Point. For all upcoming events, please visit www.JewishLHP.com.

I am going to tell you today the story about Jerry Sternin, one man who is responsible for saving the lives of tens of thousands of children, not a generation ago, but on our very own watch. (He died in 2008.)

When Jerry Sternin arrived in Vietnam, the welcome was rather chilly. The government had invited his employer, “Save the Children,” the international organization that helps kids in need, to open an office in the country in 1990 to fight malnutrition. But the foreign minister let Sternin know that not everyone in the government appreciated his presence. The minister told him, “You have six months to make a difference.”

Sternin had traveled to the country with his wife and 10-year-old son. None of them spoke the language.

“We were like orphans at the airport when we arrived in Vietnam,” he said. “We had no idea what we were going to do.”

Sternin had minimal staff and meager resources. And he knew that nobody wanted him.

The conventional wisdom was that malnutrition was the result of an intertwined set of problems. Sanitation was poor; poverty was nearly universal and clean water was not readily available. The rural people tended to be ignorant about nutrition.

That analysis was, in Sternin’s judgment, TBU — true but useless.

“Millions of kids can’t wait for those issues to be addressed,” he said.

If addressing malnutrition required ending poverty, purifying water and building sanitation systems, then it would never happen — especially in six months, with virtually no money to spend.

Ignoring the experts, Sternin traveled to a local village and called together all the village’s mothers. He asked for their assistance in finding ways to nourish their kids better, and they agreed to help. As the first step, they went out in teams to weigh and measure every child in the village. Sadly, 64 percent of the children were malnourished.

He asked them, “Did you find any very, very poor kids who are bigger and healthier than the typical child?”

The women nodded and said, “Có, có, có.” (Yes, yes, yes.)

“Then let’s go see what they’re doing.”

Sternin’s strategy was to search the community for bright spots. If some kids were healthy, despite their disadvantages, then that meant something important. Malnourishment was not inevitable.

Armed with that understanding, the mothers then observed the homes of the bright-spot kids, and, alert for any deviations, they noticed some unexpected habits. For one thing, bright-spot moms were feeding their kids four meals a day (using the same amount of food as other moms but spreading it across four servings rather than two). The larger twice-a-day meals eaten by most families turned out to be a mistake for children, because their malnourished stomachs couldn’t process that much food at one time.

The style of eating was also different. Most parents believed that their kids understood their own needs and would feed themselves appropriately from a communal bowl. But the healthy kids were fed more actively — by hand if necessary. The children were even encouraged to eat when they were sick, which was not the norm. What is more, these parents were washing the hands of their children before eating.

Most interesting, the healthy kids were eating different kinds of food. The bright-spot mothers tossed in sweet-potato greens, which were considered a low-class food, to their children’s dishes. They also put into the kid’s rice tiny crabs which they found in the Vietnam rice paddies and were considered adult food.

These dietary improvisations, however strange or “low class,” were doing something precious; adding sorely needed protein and vitamins to the children’s diet. Without knowing it, these parents provided important nutrients for their children: protein, iron and calcium.

Jerry Sternin refused to make a formal announcement, knowing that it would be futile. Instead the community designed a program in which 50 malnourished families, in groups of 10, would meet at a hut each day and prepare food together. The families were required to bring sweet-potato greens and crab. The mothers washed their hands with soap and cooked the meal together.

Dozens of experts had analyzed the situation in Vietnam, agonizing over the problems—the water supply, the sanitation, the poverty, the ignorance. They’d written position papers and research documents and development plans, but they hadn’t changed a thing.

Six months after Sternin’s visit to the Vietnamese village, 65 percent of the kids were better nourished, and they stayed that way. Within a short time, the program reached 2.2 million Vietnamese people in 265 villages. Malnutrition in Vietnam was diminished by 85 percent!

Today we face a battle where children are starving right here in America. Not physically but spiritually and morally!

We must find the bright spot kids in our society, learn from them and do everything in our power to stop the starving children. We must devote ourselves consistently to our children’s health and well-being. By studying each child and giving them what they need individually, we will change the future for our children.

Rabbi Tzvi Dechter is the director of Chabad of North Broward Beaches, located in the Venetian Isle Shopping Center at 2025 E. Sample Rd. in Lighthouse Point. For all upcoming events, please visit www.JewishLHP.com.

Not long ago, I invited a friend to Rosh Hashanah services. He declined the invitation, saying that he would not attend a synagogue, since “Religion is the cause of all wars, and the world would be at peace if it weren’t for religion.”

I asked him, what do you want from the Jewish religion? We are not sending gunmen to gun down at point blank civilian couples who have children waiting for them at home? His response was that all religions speak in the name of G-d, and that created all conflicts in history.

My friend meant well, but he is wrong. Rejecting Judaism because you believe in world peace and tolerance is like refusing to enter a Japanese restaurant because you love sushi. It just doesn’t make sense.

War comes naturally to people. It existed long before any religion. The two greatest killers in history—Stalin and Hitler — were not religious and did what they did not in the name of religion, but in the name of a secular utopian system they believed in. Conflict is inherent to human nature. We are selfish, possessive, envious, competitive and insecure. Cruelty is part of human nature.

Peace, on the other hand, is not natural to the human condition. It had to be taught and learned. And it was a religious idea.

The first and most powerful vision of world peace was presented to mankind by the prophets of ancient Israel. They predicted a time when “one nation will not lift a sword against another nation, and they will no longer learn to wage war.” In a world that saw war as an inevitable fact of life, the Jewish religion introduced a radical new concept: that war is ultimately undesirable and peace is the ideal state for which to strive.

Without religion, we would find other things to fight about, like parking spots and noise from the neighbors. We would fight over territory, wealth, race, tribalism, ethnic pride. But without religion, world peace would not have entered the human vocabulary. Our dream of world peace is biblically inspired. Ideals do not live in bubbles. Like people, they need parents to give birth to them and a home environment to sustain them. Peace without religion is homeless. It was Judaism that gave birth to the vision of world peace and still provides a framework to implement that vision.

True, religion has been used, and continues to be used, by many as a pretext for war. But this does not invalidate all religion, just as when football players brawl, it does not invalidate the game of football. Ridding the world of all religion would not end war any more than abolishing football would brawls. Mengele’s horrific medical experiments in Auschwitz, does not invalidate all medicine. It was he who used medicine to torture innocent people. In fact, religion still provides the strongest argument for peace between people: that we were all created by the same G-d. Without this belief, is there anything that really unites us all? Maybe we are essentially different? Maybe we are not one? What for Thomas Jefferson was “self evident,” may be not evident for others?

What unites us all is that we are created by one G-d who conferred upon each person infinite dignity. The more I recognize G-d, the more I recognize the oneness of humanity and all of creation, because it is the G-dliness in us which makes us one. If Darwin taught that existence was essentially a war between natural forces and only the “fittest” survived (“survival of the fittest”), Judaism taught that there is an inherent symmetry between everything in the universe. The more I am entrenched in my ego, the more I am separated from people. The more I am one with G-d, the more loving I am toward people, because it is in their face that I encounter myself, my Divine Self, which is part of your Divine Self. If I am truly one with G-d, I can never ignore the cry of a fellow Jew, and of a fellow human being.

Rabbi Tzvi Dechter is the director of Chabad of North Broward Beaches, located in the Venetian Isle Shopping Center at 2025 E. Sample Rd. in Lighthouse Point. For all upcoming events, please visit www.JewishLHP.com.

A parable:

A farmer once married a princess and she moved to the farm. He was a nice man and treated her respectfully. The first day he taught her how to milk the cows; the second day, how to feed the mules; the third day, how to clean the horses. He gave her a comfortable bed near the stable, teaching her about the crow of the rooster that will awake her. Yet, his wife was miserable.

He consulted his father-in-law, the king, saying, “I am trying so hard to satisfy your daughter to no avail. She is miserable. What am I to do?”

The king responded: “You’re a fine and sincere young man. But you must understand: your wife grew in up in royalty; the life of the farm does not speak to her heart. You can’t offer her what she needs because you have no concept that it exists.”

This is a parable of the soul who married the body. The body is the peasant farmer, offering us Wall Street and condominiums and success, and power, and all other kinds of potatoes and tomatoes. Most of us live thinking that we are the peasant. That is why however much we have it is never enough … because we are feeding ourselves the wrong thing. It can be everything the peasant has ever dreamed of, but it’s still not enough because the princess has been raised on finer stuff.

Our bodies are nice and polite. They mean well. Our soul is anxious, so the body tells our souls: wait till you see what’s for breakfast. The body gives the soul the most delicious breakfast, lunch and dinner. But, alas, we still have a void: the void of a soul yearning for something more.

So the body takes the soul on expensive cruises, on fancy vacations, builds for it fancy homes and marvelous cars, labeled designer clothing and precious jewelry. But the soul still feels a void. Because the soul grew up in royalty, the delights of the “farm” will not do the trick. The soul needs transcendence; it is searching for the Divine.

As the soul enters into a body for a lifelong “marriage,” its self-expression becomes severely limited, as it is living with a partner who does not even understand its language. And, unlike marriage, where you can run away from your husband for a few hours to get some fresh air, the soul can never leave the body to take a break; it remains confined within the body. Sometimes, like in a marriage, the soul is completely ignored.

Yet, just as in a physical marriage that it is only as a result of the unity between man and woman that they can achieve eternity, so it is with the marriage of soul and body. It is only in this world, while enclothed in the body, that the soul can transcend itself and reach heights completely impossible to reach if it would remain “single” in heaven. Only in this world, through its arduous work within and with the body, can the soul fulfill G-d’s commandments —the “children” created by the marriage of body and soul — through which it connects to G-d Himself.

And it is only on earth that we can experience transformation, completely going out of our fixed limitations and becoming a new person. In heaven, we are what we are. In earth, we can transform ourselves. An addict can experience recovery; an obnoxious self-centered man can become noble and kind; a crooked liar can become an honest human being. In this world, we can make real changes. True growth is possible.

Rabbi Tzvi Dechter is the director of Chabad of North Broward Beaches, located in the Venetian Isle Shopping Center at 2025 E. Sample Rd. in Lighthouse Point. For all upcoming events, please visit www.JewishLHP.com.

Fifteen years ago, my friend observed a Passover in Japan while I was in Russia, this is his story:

It was a few weeks before Passover 1997. Rabbi Moshe Kotlarsky, of Chabad World Headquarters in Brooklyn, requested of my colleagues to travel to the Far East and conduct public Passover Seder for the Jewish community living in the remote city of Kobe. Our journey was to go to Japan; and the numerous encounters with hundreds of Jews residing in that part of the world remains etched in my heart.

My colleague, Moshe Leiberman (today a Rabbi in Boston), supervised the meticulous procedures of koshering the Synagogue kitchen for Passover and preparing the food for the Seder. We did not know how many people to expect; there are wandering Jews to be found in every corner of Japan. To our astonishment, our first public Seder attracted close to 200 Jews, most of them from very secular backgrounds, some have not attended a Passover Seder in decades.

The energy was great. We sang, danced, ate the crunchy matzah and drank the tasty wine. The guests were into it, eating up the discussions as much as the delicious meal.

In the middle of the Seder, I was searching for words to describe my sentiments. My memory brought forth a moving Chassidic tale — one of my personal favorites — about the holy Rebbe (spiritual master) of Barditchov. Here it goes …

A drunkard’s seder

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Barditchov (1740-1810) was one of the great spiritual masters of his generation. One Passover, following an emotionally charged Seder, the Rebbe was told from heaven that Mosheleh, the water carrier’s, Seder was superior to his. “This year,” he was informed from above, “G-d’s most lovable Seder was that of the water-carrier of Barditchov.”

The next day after services, the Rebbe’s disciples went up to Mosheleh the water carrier and asked him to come see the Rebbe. Mosheleh came before the Rebbe, and he began to cry bitterly. He said, “Rebbe, I’ll never do it again. I’m so sorry; I don’t know what came over me.” The poor man was devastated. The Rebbe said, “Listen, my dear Jew, don’t worry so much; just tell us what you did last night.”

Here we must interrupt the story for a moment. It is well known that, generally, intoxication and alcoholism are viewed in Judaism as repulsive and destructive. Yet, our dear Mosheleh was orphaned at a young age and was miserably poor. He sadly succumbed to the temptation of alcohol as a way to deal with his agony and stress. Essentially, Mosheleh was a good and innocent man, a G-d fearing individual and a pure heart, but this temptation, unfortunately, got the better of him, and he drank often.

The “problem” is that on Passover you can’t drink whiskey. So Mosheleh had a tremendous idea: He’ll stay up the whole night before Passover and drink an amount of whisky that would keep him “high” for eight days straight, throughout the entire Passover holiday.

This Moshe did: When the night before Passover arrived, he drank and drank, until the minute when you must stop eating Chamatz (leaven) on the morning before Passover. When the clock struck 20 minutes after nine, he took his last “L’chayim” and he was out cold.

Seder night arrived. His wife came to wake him and said, “Mosheleh, it’s really not fair. Every Jewish home has a Seder. We have little children, and we are the only ones who don’t have a Seder.”

Mosheleh gazed at the Rebbe of Barditchov and continued relating his tale: “By then, did I regret that I drank so much the night before! Did I regret it! I would have done anything not to be drunk. But I couldn’t help it. So I said to my wife: ‘Please wake me up in an hour. I just can’t get it together yet.’ My wife kept waking me every hour, and then every half-hour. Then, suddenly, she came to me and said, ‘Moshe, in 20 minutes the Seder night is gone and the children are all sleeping. Shame on you. You are a disgraceful father and husband!’

“Gevald! I was so devastated,” Mosheleh told the Rebbe. “Here, my children are precious beyond words and I am a lousy alcoholic father, I didn’t even give them a Seder. I realized how low I have fallen, how my addiction destroyed my life and my relationships, how I sold my soul to the devil of alcohol. So, with my last strength, I got out of bed and sat down at the Seder table. I said to my wife, ‘Please, call our holy children.’

“She called the children and I said to them, ‘Please sit down very close to me, I have to talk to you. I want you to know, children, that I am so sorry that I drank. I am so sorry that I am a drunkard. If my drinking can make me not have a Seder with you, then it’s not worth it.’ I said to my children, ‘I swear to you, that I’ll never drink again in my life. But, right now, it’s Seder night, so let me just tell you the Passover story in a nutshell.’”

Mosheleh said to the Rebbe, “You know, I was still drunk, and I barely know how to read Hebrew. But, I tried my best. I said, ‘Children, I want you to know that G-d created heaven and earth in seven days. Then Adam and Eve ate from the Tree and were thrown out of Paradise. Since then, everything went downhill: There was a flood, there was a tower of Babel — that was as much as I knew.

Mosheleh said to the Rebbe, “Then came Abraham and Sarah. They began fixing the world again. Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob and Rachel and Leah and their 12 holy sons. Then Pharaoh made slaves out of us, and tonight, G-d took us out from Egypt.

“’My Sweet children, now we are also in exile. And I want you to know that the same G-d who took us out from Egypt is still alive and present and very soon He will liberate us from this exile too.’

“I turned to G-d, and said: ‘Father in heaven, thank you so much for taking us out of Egypt. And I beg you, sweetest father, please take us out of our present exile very soon’! Rebbe, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t say anything more because I was still drunk.

“I Took the Matzah, Maror and Charoses situated on the table and ate them. I filled four cups and drunk them one after another, I turned over and I fell asleep again.”

The holy master, Rabbi Levi Yitzchok of Barditchov, was crying bitter tears. He said to his disciples, “Did you hear that? Did you hear that? I wish that one time in my life I should communicate Yiddishkeit (the Jewish spirit) to my children the way Mosheleh the water carrier gave it over to his children Seder night. I wish that once in my life I should converse with G-d like Mosheleh did during his Seder.”

A woman’s tale

I concluded the story and then I said:

“I want you to know that I celebrated many a Seder-night in a very observant Jewish community in New York. Yet I get the feeling that G-d’s most lovable Seder was the one done right here, in Kobe, Japan! Many of us here this evening may be unaware of the detailed Seder rituals and customs, and so many of us may not even know how to read the Haggadah in Hebrew. But, my dearest brothers and sisters, the sincerity and the passion of so many Jews thirsty to reconnect with their inner soul — this I’ve never seen before during a Passover Seder and I thank you for allowing me this special opportunity.”

I felt that the story has stirred up deep emotion in the audience. I could see tears streaming from some people’s eyes. But one woman was sitting at the other end of the room and was weeping profusely. She later approached me and related her personal tale: “I grew up in a very assimilated home,” the woman said. “I know almost nothing about Judaism. I’m living here in Japan for more than 20 years, working as a school teacher and involved in the mystical disciplines of the Far-East.”

She related to me that she was uninterested in attending the Seder, as she felt completely alienated from Judaism, yet a friend persuaded her to come.

“The only thing I remember about Judaism,” she continued, “was that my grandmother would always tell me that I have a special spiritual connection. Why? Because you are the 10th generation of Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Barditchov.”

“Who is Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Barditchov? That my grandmother never knew. She just knew that he was some great man who lived in Eastern Europe. And she insisted that I always retain this piece of history in my memory. So, thank you Rabbi, for serving as the messenger of my holy grandfather to bring me to come back home this Passover night,” the woman said to me.

I wiped a tear from my eye and thanked the Almighty for sending me to Japan for Passover.

Rabbi Tzvi Dechter is the director of Chabad of North Broward Beaches, located in the Venetian Isle Shopping Center at 2025 E. Sample Rd. in Lighthouse Point. For all upcoming events, please visit www.JewishLHP.com.

Teaching children that murder is wrong because it is against the law, or it is not “nice,” or it runs against the social norm, does not penetrate the core of many youth. It is a shallow argument. By teaching our children that the Creator and Ruler of the world has deemed certain behaviors as wrong and evil, and this Creator cares about the behavior of every person and expects of him/her to behave with goodness and kindness toward others, and will hold this child responsible for their actions, we can hope to ingrain these values in them in a far more effective way. The child must be given to understand that the world is not a jungle, for there is a Creator and Master who sees and evaluates all his actions.there is, in the expression of the Talmud, an “eye that sees and the ear that hears.”

When morality is based on my own moods and inclinations, or the norms of the school or the society, I can end up justifying the most heinous crimes. Germany was the most advanced nation in science and philosophy, yet in the name of science it produced the most chilling criminals in the annals of human history.

King David put it in Psalms: “The genesis of wisdom is the fear of G-d.” When children are inculcated from the youngest age with a “fear of G-d,” in the healthiest sense of the term, with a recognition that G-d has deemed certain behaviors evil, and He is watching them, there is a far greater chance for them to behave morally, despite internal turmoil and all types of challenges life my confer upon them.

There is one man I know seeking to create some change in one city.

At the border of Crown Heights and Brownsville, in an impoverished corner of Brooklyn, stands the hulking, tan brick building that houses P.S. 191, the Paul Robeson School.

The school serves a student population that is remarkable in its disadvantage: 99 percent of its roughly 300 students in pre-kindergarten through fifth grade qualify for free or reduced-price lunches; some live at the homeless shelter next door.

But, every morning at 8:30, half an hour after rambunctious kids come bouncing into the building in their blue school uniforms, this school becomes remarkable in a different way.

It gets quiet. For a full minute, there is only silence.

After a teacher and a handful of students announce the moment of silence over the loudspeaker system and offer something to think about for that day — a personal goal, or how to help someone else — each and every person at P.S. 191, from the littlest 4-year-old pre-kindergartener to the principal, pauses for 60 seconds.

P.S. 191 has been observing this morning ritual for the past three years, ever since Avraham Frank, a Chabad Chasidic Jew heeding the late Lubavitcher Rebbe’s call (back in the 70s and 80s when the violence in schools increased dramatically) for a daily moment of silence in public schools, walked in off the street and introduced the idea to the principal. So far Frank, a white-bearded 64-year-old with a day job managing home attendants for New York City’s Human Resources Administration, has persuaded administrators at 13 public schools in Brooklyn, Manhattan and Queens to institute a moment of silence.

His goal, he said, is to get moments of silence into schools “all over the city.”

Though school-sponsored prayer in American public schools has been prohibited since the 1962 U.S. Supreme Court decision in Engel v. Vitale, voluntary, student-initiated, private prayer is not. In response to the ban on school-sponsored prayer, there has been a nationwide push for the introduction into public schools of daily moments of silence that students can use to pray or reflect.

“I have seen tremendous changes behavior-wise and in terms of punctuality,” said Sonia Witter- Clue, the supervising school aide. “The kids want to be here for the moment of silence. When they miss it, you can see they’re upset.”

Her 5-year-old granddaughter and 8-year-old son, both students at P.S. 191, love it so much that they insist on having a moment of silence even at home on the weekends, she said.

And it has had a direct impact on the kids’ academic success, said Hadar Gafhi, the school’s assistant principal.

“It focuses the children,” she said. During the moment of silence “they’ve made their resolutions for the day and are ready to learn, and they get right to work,” Gafhi said. “We’re seeing tremendous academic growth in our kids.”

Today, we need a paradigm shift in education both at home and in schools across the country. We must teach our children to be “mentchen” not only for the police not to get them in trouble or for people to disapprove of their behavior, but because there is something called right and wrong — and it matters. Kids will get that.

Thirty years ago, on May 17, 1987, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, penned a letter to President Ronald Reagan in The White House.

“…It is particularly gratifying that you… bring to the attention of the Nation and of the International community the need of upgrading education in terms of moral values, without which no true education can be considered complete.

“Consistent with your often declared position, that ‘no true education can leave out the moral and spiritual dimensions of human life and human striving,’ you, Mr. President, once again remind parents and teachers, in the opening paragraph of your Proclamation, that their sacred trust to children must include “wisdom, love, decency, moral courage and compassion, as part of everyone’s education.” Indeed, where these values are lacking, education is – to use a classical phrase – “like a body without a soul.”

“With the summer recess approaching, one cannot help wondering how many juveniles could be encouraged to use their free time productively, rather than getting into mischief – if they were mindful of – to quote your words – a Supreme Being and a Law higher than man’s…”

Rabbi Tzvi Dechter is the director of Chabad of North Broward Beaches, located in the Venetian Isle Shopping Center at 2025 E. Sample Rd. in Lighthouse Point. For all upcoming events, please visit www.JewishLHP.com.

A busload of politicians were driving down a country road, when suddenly the bus ran off the road and crashed into an old farmer’s barn. The old farmer got off his tractor and went to investigate. Soon, he dug a hole and buried the politicians. A few days later, the local sheriff came out, saw the crashed bus and asked the old farmer where all the politicians had gone. The old farmer told him he had buried them.

The sheriff asked the old farmer, “Lordy, were they ALL dead?”

The old farmer said, “Well, some of them said they weren’t, but you know how the crooked politicians lie.”

Einstein Lost His Ticket

Albert Einstein, the greatest scientist of the last generation who was also somewhat absent minded, was once traveling from Princeton on a train when the conductor came down the aisle, punching the tickets of every passenger. When he came to Einstein, Einstein reached in his vest pocket. He couldn’t find his ticket, so he reached in his trouser pockets. It wasn’t there, so he looked in his briefcase but couldn’t find it. Then he looked in the seat beside him. He still couldn’t find it.

The conductor said, “Dr. Einstein, I know who you are. We all know who you are. I’m sure you bought a ticket. Don’t worry about it.”

Einstein nodded appreciatively. The conductor continued down the aisle punching tickets. As he was ready to move to the next car, he turned around and saw the great physicist down on his hands and knees looking under his seat for his ticket.

The conductor rushed back and said, “Dr. Einstein, Dr. Einstein, don’t worry, I know who you are. No problem. You don’t need a ticket. I’m sure you bought one.”

Einstein looked at him and said, “Young man, I too, know who I am. What I don’t know is where I’m going.”

Friends, it is hard to trust politicians. And today many of us wonder, like Professor Einstein, where we are heading.

Splitting the Atom

The Lubavitcher Rebbe argued that discovery of atomic power must change the way we think—about ourselves, our potential and our responsibility toward our environment.

Atoms — those particles that make up the core of all matter, making up everything we see, touch, smell, and taste — are beyond tiny. A single human hair is about as thick as 500,000 carbon atoms stacked over each other. Your fist contains trillions and trillions of atoms. If one atom was as big as a marble how big would your fist be? About the size of the earth! Or, to put it in other words, all atoms of humanity can fit into a teaspoon. Go figure!

You’d have to be crazy to speculate that as tiny a particle as an atom can have an impact, never mind one that can alter the face of earth. It would seem as foolish as one can get far more absurd than telling me that an ant crawling on my porch will transform civilization.

But that is exactly what we discovered in the 20th Century. As Einstein demonstrated in 1905, there is a huge amount of energy in an atom. When an atom is split, the energy is released, creating a “chain reaction,” splitting more and more atoms, releasing more and more energy. The Manhattan Project successfully used this energy to create nuclear bombs, which devastated Japan and ended the Second World War.

Unlocking the secrets of the atom, fundamentally changed how humans interacted with nature, and created a whole new set of challenges facing humanity. But it also uncovered a vital truth. The tiniest atom, which can’t even be seen by the eye, can generate a reaction that can literally destroy the world! And if this is true of the power to destroy, which runs contrary to the design and purpose of the universe, how much more so when the power is invested positively: Even the tiniest soul can transform the world.

Rabbi Tzvi Dechter is the director of Chabad of North Broward Beaches, located in the Venetian Isle Shopping Center at 2025 E. Sample Rd. in Lighthouse Point. For all upcoming events, please visit www.JewishLHP.com.

Re-Election

In our lives we are running for re-election every year as we close one year and open another. In our election, it is our spouses, our children, our parents, our friends, co-workers, employees, employers and G-d that get to vote. We need to reclaim the admiration of all of them in order to win re-election.

If your children had a chance to “vote” for their dad … or not, what type of vote would you receive? How would your children judge you today as a father? Do we just manage them and throw toys at them so they don’t distract us, or do we create a space in our soul every night to nurture them? Do you let them know in very real ways that they matter?

Small Steps

We try to enhance our lives through small steps, not through huge sweeping changes, for those never last. We add one more mitzvah or resolution into our lives. We resolve that this year we will make one small but real change in our lives.

Let me tell you a story: There once was a poor woman who had no money to feed her children. One day she managed to acquire an egg.

“Dear children,” she exclaimed, “let’s not eat this egg! If we wait a while, the egg will hatch and we will have a chick. The chick will grow into a chicken that lays eggs every day. They will also hatch, and soon we’ll have a flock of chickens. We’ll sell the chickens and buy a little calf. The calf will grow into a cow and will give birth to many calves that will grow into cows. Before long, we’ll have a big ranch with a large herd of cattle. Listen, dear children, this little egg will make us rich!”

In her excitement, the mother held up the egg for her children to see. It slipped out of her hand – and cracked wide open on the kitchen floor.

We often make the same error. During this time, we often make lofty albeit worthwhile resolutions. But, as soon as the New Year passes by, we go back to our old ways and the good intentions evaporate. The challenge is to ensure that our resolutions are rooted in the present, and at a level at which we can actually make day-to-day progress.

Be Real

Abe is talking to his friend.

“If there’s one piece of simple advice I can give you, Marvin, it’s this. I read it in the Times yesterday and it worked immediately for me.

“I’ve finally found inner peace. I’m sure it will work for you too.”

“So give me this advice, already,” says Marvin.

“OK, here it is,” replies Abe. “The way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you’ve started.”

“Really?” says Marvin.

“Yes,” replies Abe. “I looked around to see all the things I had started but hadn’t finished. So, I finished one bottle of white wine, a bottle of red wine, a keg of beer, the bottle of whiskey, and a large box of gourmet chocolates. You have no idea how good I felt.”

On the New Year, we are called to take a TRUE look at ourselves.

“A liar,” said the Maggid of Kelm, “is worse than a thief or robber. A thief steals at night, but is afraid to steal by day. A robber robs night and day, but only robs a lone individual or a few people; he is afraid to rob too many at once. The liar, however, lies both at night and day, both to the individual and to the world.”

Are we real people? How many lies do we say a day? Do we say white lies? Are we honest in our conversations and dealings? Are we true to ourselves as we should be?

Most of us walk through most of our life distracted from the most important and truest question of life: Why are we here? Today, I encourage you to look out, be sensitive for those precious moments — when you may discover a deeper, truer part of yourself — and take it with you.

Have a Happy New Year!

Rabbi Tzvi Dechter is the director of Chabad of North Broward Beaches, located in the Venetian Isle Shopping Center at 2025 E. Sample Rd. in Lighthouse Point. For all upcoming events, please visit www.JewishLHP.com.