I still felt like I hadn't fulfilled the Mitzvah of Father's Day. With everything from last year, my father still didn’t buy me a flight to fulfill the Mitzvah correctly. If my dad doesn't give me money, how can I do the Mitzvah for him?
So, I needed to find a father in Israel to fulfill the Mitzvah. 

I Need To Fulfill the Mitzvah of Father's Day
A kind religious Jew noticed me sulking at a bus stop outside the Old City of Jerusalem. "Why would a man be sulking?" he asked. I told him I need a dad. He said, "You're thirty years old. It's time for you to grow up." It was hard hearing that from a six-year-old.
I explained. "I needed a Tateh to fulfill the Mitzvah of Father's Day." The kid said he never learned about the Mitzvah of Father's Day. Which was bothersome. You would think nursery school is the one place they would teach about that.
Another man at the bus stop overheard my whining and told me that in Israel they celebrate Father's Day every day. I let him know I don't have enough money for that many gifts. I also expressed how not happy my father would be if he had to pay for that many gifts for me to buy him.
One man began shouting in prayer form "Avinu SheBashamim" (Gd in Heaven). I found out he had a falling out with his father, and he now only sees H' as his father. Another guy said that Rav Ovodia Yosef is our father in heaven. It turns out he saw the Shas slogan before the last election. I was very confused. And I wasn't going to buy gifts for Rav Ovadia Yosef who had already passed away. As for H', I will bring Him gifts when He rebuilds the Temple.

I Finally Found a Dad
Sitting at the bus stop, I saw a man smack a child on his Tush for not running into the street. I said, "That's a Dad. I finally found one."
The child yelled at his dad. It turns out this family also doesn't celebrate Father's Day. I told the dad about the idea of Father's Day and Mother's Day, and how Americans make sure to make it easier on those parents on those days. And he said to his child, "If this is tradition, today, you watch over yourself." And the dad went to play billiards.
I followed this dad to the pool hall, as his child was stranded at the bus stop in commemoration of Father's Day. I told him he was a great dad. He said, "I don't know you." I told him I was his today. As he left the pool hall and passed by his kid, he made his way to his house. I followed him and he kept asking me to reiterate this concept of not having to watch over your children on this day.
I had just learnt that all Jews are responsible for each other and thus I told him he is responsible to be my dad. He told me, "You're not getting any money." He then kicked me out of his house. To quote: "I never met you. Get out of my house before I shoot you... You're not getting an inheritance from me!"
I left that house and prayed that guy's kid was OK. It's amazing how Mitzvahs can backfire on a stranded eight-year-old.
 
Follow Up Notes
They don't celebrate Father's Day in Israel. The Mitzvah seems to be you're supposed to honor your father every day. That's painful. I told my rabbi I was thinking about going back to America where you don't have to honor your father as much. My rabbi told me the Mitzvah is every day in America too.
My rabbi also said that Father's Day is not a Mitzvah, and somebody should bring that child back to his house. My rabbi ended up reporting that Israeli father for neglect of a third grader.

I found a dad. It was somebody else's. It turns out that his child has to do his own Kibud Av vEim. I can't do it for him. Otherwise, I will get locked up.
 
I still felt it important to follow up with the Israeli father to fulfill extra Kibud Av vEim, and to make sure his child was OK. I sent a card to the Israeli father. He didn't appreciate it as he didn't understand my Hebrew transliterated into English. The card read, "Mah Shlomcha... Ani Choshev Alecha..." I believe it's good he didn't understand the card. It's a good thing he didn't understand, "How are you?... I am thinking about you..." I learned that hose are the last words written on a letter from a serial killer. They might have reported me for stalking. 
I showed up at their house and we had a BBQ and his kids thought it was Independence Day.
I was thinking about buying a Father's Day gift for the Israeli dad, but that didn't happen. I didn't buy the Israeli father a shirt at Fox. Nobody needs to see another Israeli dad walking around in a tight shirt. Walking down the beach in Tel Aviv is already painful enough.

My rebbe later taught me that there is no substitute for your father. I started calling my rabbi, my rebbe. This way I could blame him if I did anything wrong.
"Honor the elderly." That's a precept I learned a few days later. One that you must practice with people that aren't your dad. Hence, I stopped treating other people as my dad. Instead I started treating them as elderly and treated them with the respect one must show our seniors, as the Mitzvah teaches. It turns out that not all fathers in their forties like when you take them by the arm to help them cross the street.
 
From now on, I'm going to call my dad and say "I love you," no matter how awkward it makes our relationship. That will be my Father's Day gift. It's cheaper for my father and less of a hassle than picking out an Israeli dad. It's also easier than traveling back to America for a visit. I don't want them to have to renovate the kitchen every Father's Day, so I can eat in it. I don't know if me starting to keep Kosher is a good Father's Day gift.
After calling my father every day for a week, he told me it's not a Mitzvah to call every day. To quote, "Part of honoring me is not having to hear from you."

We didn’t finish the story. We started it. We continued it. We’re still going. Maybe you want to catch up and read how I got stuck at the Kotel last week. Now, I'm still stuck. And this is all happening "during these times."
I finished Davening and I got pulled into the circle again. It was now 7am. Still there. I didn’t get sleep. You can't sleep when people are singing "Kol HaOlam Koolo," "All the whole world is a very narrow bridge..." You can't go home when people are singing "Kol HaOlam Koolo." It's rude. You leave and you're offending everybody. You're offending all the whole world.
 
Singing Continues After Your Pray 
I prayed. I was fulfilled. As I got back to the Kotel Plaza, I was drawn back into this Kol HaOlam Koolo Circle. I couldn't resist the ring of unity. Even more now. I couldn't move. Unity had made it impossible to move. 
They thought my walking backwards, away from The Wall, was a dance move. So, they pulled me into the circle again. I don't know where the traditional Jewish yank of the arm to express togetherness comes from. Nonetheless, it does cause injury, which unity can do. By this time, my arms were hurting. I was going to have to see a doctor to wedge my shoulders back in their proper sockets.
Due to the lateness, all had slowed down. We were back on the Narrow Bridge. You could feel the Ahava. The love. It might have been sweat left over from Tzachi's Hora dancing. It might have been people's inability to move due to the hour and tiredness. It might have been the heat. Whatever it was, you felt the love on your clothes.

Holding Hands In the Moment
When you're in love, you hold hands. And we were now one people, in Ahava. Holding hands with the whole of your people feels real good, unless if they just wiped off sweat from their forehead and grabbed you. We held hands and danced.
Again, The Kol HaOlam Koolo Circle had turned into a stand still. It was a very spiritual dance and I embraced the love. At this point, I had no choice. I had no idea where we were going. Are we going right or left. It was a forward and backward movement. So, I stayed in the same spot with my people.
The only thing that moves slower than a circle is a one step forward one step back movement. And we finished that song, "The main thing is to not fear. Not to fear at all." I was worried I would get fired. There was no way I was going to make it to work. But that song comforted me.
I closed my eyes. That's how I know I was connecting with H'. When I close my eyes, I'm connecting with Gd. Sometimes, I'm sleeping. Sometimes there's just a lot of sun. I think I was connecting with Gd. Connecting with Gd and my people. 

And Now "Acheinu"
All the sudden, we went into "Acheinu," "Our Brothers," and I started bawling on the narrow bridge. Tears started flowing. Who could ask for anything better. What's better than not moving back and forth with your eyes closed, and now tears?! Nothing. It's euphoric. Only thing that would've made it better is a good sneeze.
Something about that song about being brothers, while holding my brothers (could be narrow bridges- however you call your people), right after singing "Kol HaOlam Koolo" opens the heaven's floodgates of tears on my face. And it was during these times that all of this happened.
The whole Kotel, including the women's section. "Acheinu." Maybe they didn't understand the words. Maybe "brothers" also means sisters. Hebrew is confusing like that.
"Acheinu" had made its way into the circle lexicon, rivaling "Kol HaOlom Koolo." I didn't know this. I thought "Acheinu" only made it into the shuls. It moves slower than the "Jerusalem of Gold" Dance, yet it unifies us all the same in a circle enveloped by love and warmth and sweat.
I haven't felt this unified with my people since I Davened Shacharit against the request of the stewardess on an ELAL flight.

The Sun Is Rising
The sun is about to come up. I don't have my Tefillin and my phone battery ran out. If there is ever a time to lose faith in mankind, it's when your phone dies. And with the death of Samsung, I lost faith in my people. After love comes frustration.
It is during this time of unity and singing "Acheinu," "Our Brothers" with sisters, that you should try to not curse out your people. Lfum Tzara Agra. According to the pain is the reward. I was going to make it home. I made it to The Wall. I could make it home too. With the goal of celebrating Yom Yerushalayim during these times, I realized I was going to have to skip work. And so, I sang and I cried, and I got fired.

Final Conclusion
I embraced my people. Once I let everything go, I embraced "Acheinu," which went on for another couple hours. "Acheinu" lasts a long time when another inspired individual starts singing it again. You think the song is over when you say "on dry land," and then an inspired individual with eyes closed, goes into "Acheinu." Again. Song is not finished for him, and it is now not finished for the rest of us.

The meaning of the Kol HaOlam Koolo Circle. It's the dancing in the face of history. We are joyful. We have no fear. And one guy started singing "Not to fear, from flesh and blood." That said it all during these times. And then I heard, "Not to fear at all, from flesh and blood or college students."
And then, as "Acheinu" died down and all inspiration was lost, after ten hours of dancing, at 7am, the people started going crazy and doing this Israeli jump dance. Still in one spot.
And so I joined my people in jumping and I ended up disturbing other people who were trying to Daven. Maybe somebody they’ll understand that Davening is best done in Kol HaOlam circle form.

I saw that forward backward movement at a Tish, around the rebbe's table, the following Shabbat. It turns out they'd just made it back from the Kotel. The Chassidim got caught in the Yom Yerushalayim Kol HaOlam Koolo Circle and couldn’t break out of it either.

"Dance with your people." My rabbi was right, even if he's a heretic who celebrates Jerusalem Day.
I remember now. It was this same unity of the Kol HaOlam Koolo Circle that joined us together on Tisha BAv last year. Gishmak. I can't wait for Tisha BAv. Love that day. Such good times.

I stayed in Jerusalem for Shavuot. By the time I got home from Yom Yerushalayim, I didn’t have enough time to pack and head to my cousins for the Chag. Kol HaOlam Koolo Circles will change your plans.
And then I saw the picture of the soldiers looking up at the Kotel for the first time, ending The Six Day War. The blowing of the Shofar. I knew, this is what today is about. This is what Shavuot is about. This is what Hoshana Rabbah is about. This is what Tisha BAv is about. This is what our pilgrimage festivals, our Chagim, are about. It's about not getting any sleep. The soldiers definitely stayed up all night.

Let us continue the Yom Yerushalayim dancing we were talking about yesterday. It's just a meaningful story. No Torah. But there is dancing, and the Kotel. So, it's meaningful.

Kol HaOlam Koolo or Davening During These Times
The Kol HaOlam Koolo (Whole World) Circle began and I was in it. Once you're in the circle of unity, you feel the unity and you're not leaving it. Unity takes up a lot of room in a very small space. It's very hard to maneuver around unity. Not being able to move is very unifying. "The whole world is a narrow bridge" and I was on that bridge with my people. You sing those words, especially during these times and you feel the unity. The unity of our people, packed together, making it very hard to get to The Wall.

During These Times
"During these times" is what you say when you're talking about bad stuff. I learned that from my Israeli rabbis. It's always "During these times." It's never "In these times." In these times things are not that bad. It's during these times that something is very wrong. Nothing good has ever happened during these times. "In these times" all is fine and dandy. "During those times" is not bad. During those times, they had flower petals on beds and unicorns. Things are always bad during these times. It's been "during these times" in Israel for a very long time.
When you sing about a narrow bridge, it somehow all makes sense. These times makes a lot of sense. And there I was, touching and swaying many narrow bridges. It was hours of narrow bridges. Greater than any Tefillah. It was Achdut, unity and a narrow bridge. Too narrow to make it to the Kotel. Perfect for crowd surfing. Which would've helped me get to the Kotel sooner.
I needed to be part of my people during these times. That was my only choice. I had to dance with my people. I was stuck.
Why would anybody want to leave a narrow bridge during these times?! It was during these times that I am talking. I've never heard a good Frum Jew talking about in these times. Such a merit. A Zechus. I have to tell my rebbe. I was at the Kotel on Yom Yerushalayim during these times.

Still In the Circle
We stayed in a circle. There was nowhere to go. We were at the Kotel already. The Kotel Plaza. Then, all the sudden, the Kol HaOlam Koolo Circle turned into a Hora. Movement was faster and I side-danced with the circle till I could break to the Kotel side. I had to time the angle on the Kotel side of the circle. There was some Hora back-stepping, which impeded my sideways progress. Nonetheless, I finally got to The Wall side.
It was on this Yom Yerushalayim that I felt the beginning of redemption, the hand holding, the circle. That is how we dance: circle, sometimes get the middle cypher going, one hand hold kick and switch the kick. The idea is to touch the guy next to you.

I Finally Made it to the Kotel
I finally made it to the Kotel, side-stepping with the Hora. I'd practiced this move on Friday nights, trying to make it to The Wall during a Carlebach Minyin. You dance with them and at the 180 degree point, you separate from the circle and join the next circle. A circlized mixer dance. Some men have a very tight grip, developed from years of Tish dancing. Yet, I made it to The Wall after pinching one of the guys hands to get out of his vise grip.
I was worried I would never make it. Yet, once they moved into Hora and Shwekey songs, it started to move. Hora circles move. Sometimes they move backwards, but they still move.
The singing did disturb my Davening (prayers) and I did tell them to stop singing for a few minutes, so I could focus on my Amidah silent prayer. It turned out that my voice was not heard by the nation at the Kotel. So, I Davened. I was not willing to part with tradition. Then I remembered, I like dancing during Davening. Which is hard to do during the Amidah, where I have to keep my feet in place. So, I started swaying. Known as Shuckling, one could not tell if I was dancing or Davening to "Hava Nagilah."

I Finished Davening and My People Kept Going
I thought I was done after Davening. I had finished the journey. I did what my rebbe wanted. I danced to the Kotel with my people and prayed. It was meaningful. I had united. What now?!
After I Davened, or danced- I don't remember which one- I meant to pray to Gd- there was definitely dancing, I heard them back on the "Kol HaOlam Koolo." The Hora can only last so long. After 3:30am it's hard to keep the Hora energy up. Even the young people decided to join the Kol HaOlam Koolo Circle.
I was trying to figure out how to get past the circle before 6am. I had work that morning, and I did not have a car, or the ability to beep at people who were celebrating.
As I was leaving the packed Kotel wall, I walked backwards in deference to the holiness of the place and to make it easier to look like I didn't mean to knock over the people I was walking into. You actually move faster that way. When you walk backwards and you injure people at the Kotel, you get out of there faster, and they forgive the action as religious duty.
I got past a few people, walking over them. I was ready to continue Yom Yerushalayim with sleep.
 
Singing Kept Me
I couldn't continue walking backwards from the Kotel. The unity drew me in. This time my heart was open. Without a need to go to The Wall, I found myself holding hands with my nation. Finally, back in the Old City of Jerusalem, celebrating Yom Yerushalayim, all different types of Jews defined by their Kippas. Kippot Srugot (knitted yarmulkes) Jews, satin and velvet Yarmulke Jews, known as Charedim, soldiers, Sherut Leumi, kids, adults. All heretics. None of them looked like me. If they learned from my rabbi, they might not have been heretics. Nonetheless, they were all my people and not one of the heretics was rebuking another. One people with this new heretical form of Davening, singing "Kol HaOLam Koolo" and dancing real slow, with smiles, taking over the Kotel.
During these times, nobody attacked my people, asides from myself trying to get out of the Kotel.

Conclusion
It's all more meaningful during these times. Being with my people, unifying in song during these times.
Unity doesn't move.
Unity keeps our people together.
Unity had me Davening with a bunch of heretics.
Unity keeps us rooted in the past.
Unity keeps us from running.
Unity keeps us from getting home and stops buses from getting out of the Old City.
Unity keeps people from waking up for work.
Unity ruins my Kavanah.
Unity makes Davening meaningful.
Unity is a Kol HaOlam Koolo Circle.

It is being together in Yerushalayim. That's what the holiday is about. It's not about getting anywhere. It's about being there. At least that makes me feel better about not moving very far and skipping work the next day.
Note: “Singing ‘Kol HaOlam Koolo’ and dancing real slow” has a nice ring to it.

I went to the Kotel for Yom Yerushalayim, Jerusalem Day. I hope I didn't do anything Asur. I hope celebrating Jerusalem as a Jew isn't forbidden according to Halacha. I don't know. Some of my rabbis seem to not be big fans of  the whole Six Day War and reclaiming Jerusalem. I just want to do the right thing. If it was celebrating Brooklyn, a Brooklyn Day, I would feel connected to my people. The Halacha would be clear. A decent deli and a corned beef on rye is something we have celebrated as a Jewish people. I'm still getting used to Yerushalayim and shawarma. Anyways, I celebrated Yom Yerushalayim with a Reuben sandwich.
Shavuot is a pilgrimage festival and it's coming up, and that's another question I'm discussing with my rabbi. I'm now in Yerushalayim and it's going to be hard for me to make it to Brooklyn for the Chag.

Background to My First Kotel Dance
It used to be the Koysel. Now I'm calling it the Kotel. What's happened to me. I'm not even Frum anymore. I might as well accept it. Shavuot. Now I'm going to the Kotel for Shavuot. Not even Shavuis.
I remember my first Friday night dance at the Kotel. It was the Kabbalat Shabbat service and the Yeshiva Bachurs got sick of Davening. So they started singing. Then they started singing stuff that wasn't even words. A Nay Nay Nay thing. Then they put down their Siddurs, started dancing. I didn't want to join them in their protest, as I was fine praying. But they pulled me in. And then I heard they were dancing in service of Gd. So, I joined them. It's definitely easier to focus on Tefillah without the prayers.
It was a very aggressive form of Kiruv. When I became religious, many people were trying to help bring me closer to Gd. Nobody ever pulled me physically or yanked me to be a better a Jew. The Jewish dance circle was a very violent form of Kiruv. I'd heard about what they call NCSY youth advisors who have injured many high school kids' arms by pulling them into what they called "Pre-Shabbat Ruach Circles," but I never had a shoulder pulled out of my socket for the sake of Gd before.
At first I didn't like this dancing in lieu of Davening. But then I got used to not praying and I started going to the Kotel to dance on Friday nights. I have now danced at the Kotel many of times since I became religious, to get out of having to Daven.
But Yom Yerushalayim is the holiday of Jerusalem, and we were celebrating Jerusalem. I did not know what to be prepared for. I had no idea what to expect. I came with extra shoulder protection, a sling, and knee guards just in case.

My Rabbi Said to Go "It's Yom Yerushalayim"
I was trying to make my way to the Kotel, the iconic spot of the Six Day War. My rabbi told me go. It turns out my rabbi is a Zionist. If I would've known that in advance, I would've learned somewhere else and found another rabbi. I would've probably went to learn in Poland. Now, I'm a Charedi who's saying Hallel on Yom Yerushalayim with a Bracha. The only Charedi who celebrates Shavuot. I should've known. My rabbi was wearing Techeilet. Only Zionist rabbis have the blue fringes on their Tzitzit. True ultra-Orthodox Jews do not follow those Mitzvahs. What kind of rabbi tells his student to go to the Kotel?!
Maybe I'm not Charedi now. I don't know. It changes depending on who's pulling me into what circle. But my rabbi told me, "It's Yom Yerushalayim. You join your people and follow the tradition. Listen to the rabbis' speeches at Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav for three hours. After not understanding a thing they say, you march to the Kotel. Go with your people and Daven Maariv."

Making My Way to The Kotel
I started walking to the Kotel from Merkaz HaRav at the entrance to the city. I couldn't make it anywhere. I was surrounded by random people dancing. I realized that if we're dancing already two miles from the entrance to the Old City, which is another kilometer away from the Kotel, it's going to be a long night. I was bothered, "Why is everybody dancing?! There is no reason to dance. Nobody is Davening!" To which I was told that people dance outside of the Kotel too. To which I said, "That's Asur."
We weren't moving. I shouted, "We're nowhere near the Kotel. We're only at the central bus station. If you don't stop dancing, we'll never make it to the Kotel." It was at this moment that some of the people said, "Shoot. We'll never make it to the Kotel at this pace. I don't think we've moved. The circle just goes around. I think I'm back where I was ten minutes ago." And the circle opened up, and with arms around each other we all continued dancing in the direction of the Old City. And we started moving very slowly. They were jumping side to side. They were still dancing. I tried telling them that a march, like my rabbi suggested, would get us their quicker. Though a brisk walk would work better. I'm going to bring that up at our next Shiur.
You don't move very fast no matter how you dance. You won't make it anywhere quickly dancing. It will slow down any activity. Grocery shopping, a visit to the doctor's office, Davening.
It wasn't a hop skip and jump movement. They were doing this side to side jump dance, which I've noticed they do at sporting events and protests. It was the same dance. It moves quite slowly, as the direction is not forward. If turning toward the Kotel, it might have been faster. For a moment I thought they were protesting, until I heard a cheer of "Yerushalayim Shelanu. Oley Oley Oley Oley. Yerushalayim!!!" At which point, I realized they were going to a soccer game. They were Beitar Jerusalem fans and they never made it to the Kotel.

Other People Are Dancing Too
I left that group of dancers and joined another group of dancers who were singing "Yerushalayim Shel Zahav," "Jerusalem of Gold." And we danced down Jaffa Street to the beat of the song, even slower, as another circle was formed. It took a while to break that circle. "Jerusalem of Gold" is quite meaningful in circle form. You do not move fast in circles. That's something that I learned Yom Yerushalayim night. Confirmed. It was a half hour later that we morphed into a semicircle. Opening up the blockade part of the circle allowed for some movement towards the Kotel.
I was connected with all my Holy Brethren and Sistren as we moved towards the Old City. Jerusalem. Unified. Dancing through the streets of Yerushalayim in semicircle form. Holding up traffic. Getting beeped. Getting people mad. It turns out that people trying to get home from work don't celebrate Yom Yerushalayim. They don't like circles, and it turns out they also don't like semicircles.

The Kotel Plaza - A Circle of Love
I made it through Jaffa Gate, Shaar Yafo, with a bit of pushing and running over the people that were in front of me in the semicircle. I finally got to the Kotel Plaza and people were again in circle form. It was six and a half hours since Yom Yerushalayim began. Six and a half hours of circles. The half, representing the half a day it took to clean up after the war. It turns out that groups like to form circles at the Kotel Plaza too.
Undeterred I promised myself I would make it to the wall. It may take some extra time and sidestepping along with the circle, but I promised myself I would get to the Kotel.
As I sidestepped, on my way to the Kotel, I realized I was part of another circle. I couldn't not be. I could not make my way around without being part of it. They sing and dance on Friday nights, but there are pockets of openness on Shabbat, fulfilling the words, "In the times of the Temple, nobody complained about space in Jerusalem" (misquoted from Pirkei Avot, but still a quote). But the Temple has been destroyed, and there was no room at the Kotel on Yom Yerushalayim, and I am complaining. Here, tonight, on Yom Yerushalayim, there was nowhere to go.
I joined the circle. I had to. And before I could yell or ask my people to crowd surf me to The Wall, I found myself singing. Singing the meaningful words I had sung so many times before. The words that touched my heart for so many years as a Baal Teshuva. "Kol HaOlam Koolo." No idea what it means. So I sung.
In unison, as our circles became one, our huge circle was singing "Kol HaOlam Koolo Gesher Tzat Meod." It turns out the words mean, "The whole world is a narrow bridge." So beautiful. So fitting, as I was stuck in a circle with no way out. Not even a narrow opening.

I've got to get some sleep. I finally got home. I haven't slept since Yom Yerushalayim started. I think they're still dancing.
I haven't even got to the Kotel yet. I still haven't Davened. I did. But I have to get sleep. I'll tell you more about me dancing with guys and the narrow bridges tomorrow.

Lessons of What Has Followed
"Kol HaOLam Koolo Gesher Tzar Meod." I think you understand those words now.
From "Jerusalem of Gold" to the "Whole World is a Very Narrow Bridge," that is the progression of our people. Think about that statement, meditate on it. I'm sure something meaningful pop up.

I've now adopted this new form of Davening, where I dance and serve Gd by not looking in the Siddur. I am now in much better shape. This new form of Davening has helped my cardiovascular health.
It turns out that Davening takes an extra half hour to four hours with dancing.

It was Lag BOmer. I had to go to Meiron. It's Lag BOmer. I have to get to the Kever, the grave, of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. I heard about it. I had to go.

There is nothing I love more as a Baal Teshuva than Lag BOmer. And spending Lag BOmer in Meiron is extra Chozer BTshuva glory. The more I see people with Payis jumping, the more connected I feel to Yidishkeit. Like the pictures of Jews my parents had in the den, the one-legged Chasidc dance connects me to Frumniosity. Whoever that artist is, he instilled in me an idea of what Chasidim do. And that's dance on one foot. Not sure if they learn Torah. I definitely know they dance on one foot.
And there is no place better to see Chasidim dancing than at the grave of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. The Rashbi. So, I made my way to Meiron.

I decided travel to the north of Israel by bus, from Yerushalayim. I wanted to experience Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai's Hillula with my people. And that means with the cheapest form of transportation.
Traveling to Merion, I felt like I was part of the nation, our Am, leaving Jerusalem for the pilgrimage festival of Lag BOmer. The fourth of the pilgrimage festivals. The Chag not mentioned in the Torah. The one we leave Yerushalayim to celebrate. Along with Pesach, where we go up to hotels outside of Jerusalem, which cost less.
When you're going to a community event, you go with community. So, I sat on the bus next to a beautiful Jewish soul who hadn't showered. I could smell the Kedusha. The holiness. What is known as the Avira DAra, the atmosphere of Israel. And it was all coming from the guy sitting right next to me. I was surrounded by the aura of Kedusha.

The bus route was amazing. We passed every fire in Israel. Towns on fire and people were fine with it. We passed through Bet Shean where they decided to burn the guy's mattresses. Might have been his home at the start. I don't know. But all of the holy Jews were celebrating. People with Payis were jumping.
Why we didn't just take the faster route by way of the highway is still something I ask. Yet, it was a chance to bond more with my nation. A chance to see holy towns of Israel on fire. A beautiful sight for a Jew. Especially a Jew who is growing in his connection to his people.

We finally got to Merion. Which meant there was another bus. There was a bus from the bus. Mamish. Amazing. Gishmack. More buses. More connecting with my people who haven't showered now for eight hours, since they started dancing to celebrate the Rashbi's demise.
Then I caught another bus from the bus from the bus, which then leaves you off, so you get to walk to where you need to go. Gishmack

We made it to the party. I was at the gates of Meiron. All of our Chasidic brethren celebrating. Dancing. Jumping. Payis flying. Selling stuff. Booths everywhere. It was like homecoming on campus, just that people had clothes on.
They had falafel booths where they served falafel for money. I learned that Jewish carnivals have falafel. Even if were celebrating the Jews of Spain, it's falafel. I’ve learned much in my few years as a religious Jew. All Jewish events have falafel somewhere.
They had a Tehillim booth to remind us that things are not good. And that made me feel even more religious, as I celebrated through feeling bad.
Chabad rabbis were there. Chabad rabbis love booths. I remembered the Matzah factory booth and the shofar making booth. But it wasn't Pesach or Rosh Hashana. It was Lag BOmer. So, the rabbis had a fire making booth. The coolest booth I ever saw, until the Meiron fire department shut it down. Many of us Frum Jews were mad, as the fire department and Merion policemen didn't express the same Emunah, belief in Gd, as the Chabad rabbis. You could tell by the fires we passed on the way to Merion, the fire department in Bet Shean had much more Emunah and Bitachon bH' than their colleagues in Meiron. It might have been that they were making small fires in a wood booth.

Waiting for us was food. Food booths. Menschim doing Chesed. Acts of kindness for those who can’t afford falafel. Feeding people who forgot to bring food on a full day’s trip.
I was blessed to enjoy the Israeli Frum event food. Rugulach with a thin layer of a chocolate looking stuff painted on, hard dust cookies, and coffee made out of Botz. Made the traditional way, with mud. Religious Israelis drink coffee the way Moshe Rabbeinu drank it. Traditional coffee, before South America was founded. I love mud coffee.
As I learned, the Mesorah, tradition is to dunk the hard dust cookie in the coffee. And so I did, and I lost the thing. The cookie broke off. It was gone.
Religious Jews in Israel don’t travel with food. They show up and eat hard dust cookies. Oh. How I've come to love hard dust cookies with a that solidified neon jelly looking thing on the inside. It’s what religious Jews eat in the Beit Midrash, and it is what we eat at festivals.

Then we saw religious concerts. That means Shwekey. Or somebody else who sings like Shwekey.
Such an amazing experience.
I continued and saw more fires. And nobody had to follow fire code, unless if they were a Chabad rabbi with a booth.
It was Mardis Gras for Frum Jews. Which meant no floats and the bands were stationary. And nobody was drinking cocktails like the Hurricane. Everybody was drinking schnapps. Straight schnapps. I learned that Frum people drink schnapps, because schnapps sounds Jewish.  

After the bus and working my way through the concerts and the crowd, dancing with every Chasid, and walking through fire, and getting stopped by every person who asks for money in Israel - I believe I met them all, which is a Mitzvah - Fifteen hours later, I pushed, I grabbed, I did not make it to the Kever.

Conclusion
Yidishkeit, being a Frum Jew, is about the journey.
Chagim in Israel are not about making it anywhere. It’s about being there. That is the holy experience of any Chag. It's the journey to Yerushalayim. It’s the journey to Meiron. It’s the journey to a hotel in Florida to save money and not be in Jerusalem for Pesach. As long as you have Chasidim dancing somewhere, my mom would say it’s Jewish. And she’s right.
I was at the gates of Meiron. Finally, I was at the gate. The real gate this time. There are a lot of gates in Meiron. It turns out the last gate I was at was the gate to some guy's house. I finally made it to Meiron. Effort pays off. I was there and I did not make it the Rashbi's Kever. It was packed.
It turns out that I couldn't make it past the last group of Chasidim dancing. The pictures in the den don't show how crowded the dancing can get.

Then I took the bus back to Yerushalayim. It took six hours to get out of Meiron. At that point, I was just annoyed and asking myself why I didn’t take a car. It was then I started questioning how much Avira DAra I can handle.

For the first time in my Frum journey I thought, “Maybe I should be a little less religious. Maybe a bonfire and some Tehillim is a good enough way to celebrate. Maybe I don’t need to be on a bus for fifteen hours to connect with H’.” And then I got home and promised myself I would go back to Meiron next year, and make it my Minhag. My tradition.

Culture is thine people. Since the Babylonians, the Greeks and thine Romans got involved we have been dispersed around the world. We have found ourselves in Israel, and in different countries, where our people have learned to make decent brisket. It is now that our people, oh the dispersed, have come home, and thus we speaketh of the immigrant. Oh. How thine people reimmigrantasize.

They speak Hebrew in the Holy Land. Need I say more? They also speak Russian, French, English, Yiddish, Mandarin. It really depends on where you’re from. They also speak Hebrew.
Oh. How I love thee and thine languages that are not Hebrew. Thy citizeneth who identify as Israelis who don't speak Hebrew.
Oh. Thine American who doesen'tith abandoneth their English. Keepeth strong in thine will notith speaking Hebrew.

There’s an Israeli law that every third song on the radio has to be Israeli, in order to interrupt the good songs with songs that speak to the Neshama. Thine soul.
Oh. Thine Israeli radio. Thy doesn'th have English songs playing all day, as thusith would maketh Israel feel too much like Russia.
Oh. How I love thine music that is not English. You giveth songs that toucheth the soul, that I don'teth understand.

Thanks to the strong religious influence, we have Chasidic songs on the radio. Each Chasidic song has the lyrics of “yay nay nay.” so that everybody can sing along.
Oh. Thine religious songs playeth during the week. How I misseth Shabbat on Tuesdays, until I hear thine radio with Shwekey topping thine charts.
Oh. How I love thee and thine religious songs and the chance thou allowest me to singeth along, in confidence I understand wateth happeneth. It is these words that I know, remindeth me I do understandeth Hebrew. Yay Nay Nay Nay.

We have Israeli food such as falafel, shwarma and pizza. Which Israel created.
Oh. How I love thee. Oh. Thine Borscht and thine Schav. Gold's, thine our a brand. A brand and a family. Oh. How thine kibe. Thine croussants thou takes credit for. Some pizza ist created in Italy, as we give our Italinia reimmigrantized credit for pizza too. Though, thou knowest pizza is Israeli. Oh. Chinese food. Thou hast notith moved to Israel, but ure people have brought thine foodeth from thine Diaspora. Chinese Foodeth that iseth Israeli.

Sports is everywhere. We even have athletes that came from America so we can compete in thine EuroLeague.
Oh. How I love thee. Oh. Thine Israeli athletes that did not make the NBA.

To Israeli immigrants everywhere. Thank you for opening up falafel shops.
Oh. Thine Diaspora, where thine Israelis who never cooked openeth restaurants of Israeli cuisine. Where a salad of cut vegetables is called Israeli.
Oh. How thy introduced the world to the untucked shirt.
Oh. Thine Diaspora. Where Israelis move to geteth away from Israelis, to liveth with Israelis.
Oh. Thine Diaspora. Where Israelis move to geteth away from immigrants.

***The adding of the "eth" to the end of the word makes it biblical. And thuseth more meaningfuleth. Poetic.

The true story of why I became a Baal Teshuva, a repentant. Here is how it all began. Money. That's it. Lost the money.
Gambling is an issue. And I have it. I had it. I caught it. I got it. Every day, I fight it. I am broke. I'm good person and I am broke.
It's hard for me to open up about this. Thus, I'll need to go into a lot of detail. Which means I messed up. Anytime somebody goes into detail, they messed up. Stories where they make no mistakes are real quick. You've got to keep it quick, to stop before the messed-up part. Any story that lasts more than two pages, you see messed up. My whole story is messed up. So, I will share it in a long series of pieces.
I don't know if gambling is Asur, forbidden. I do know that stealing in order to gamble is Asur. Murder in order to gamble is Asur. Stoning people in order to gamble is also forbidden.

Before going into this, you should know there are so many good Jews that have been affected by this disease of addiction. You may not see them at shul, because they can't pay dues. They're also broke. Dues and then you get called up to the Torah and you think that's it. You finish with the Torah Brachas and they give you an envelope with the shul address on it. And in the envelope there's no free play.

How It Stated
I wasn't religious, which meant I had a lot of free time to ruin my life.
I was bored. I'm not going to lie. Living in Oshawa, Ontario, boredom is an activity. Which is why many people from Oshawa end up learning Torah. The lack of other stuff to do.
Other activities in Oshawa consist of sitting in your house during the winter and trying to keep warm while freezing. Hence, people in Oshawa love casinos and survival shows.

I was going through hard times, so I went to the casino. The casino is where you go when times are hard, so you can see other people going through hard times that aren't drunk. At the casino, people share their problems coherently.
I just got dumped by the love of my life, Shaindel Chana. The way she made Kugel, with the spinach inside. And then her Tzimis, how is one not to fall in love.
I can tell you, dumping me was Asur. I told her that the rabbis would forbid her from dumping me. That was the first religious Jewish decision I ever made on someone else's behalf. I think that helped my future decision to become a rabbi.

I found myself at the casino. I was hurt. I needed to escape, and I figured the best way to do that is to lose all my money.
When you're in Oshawa and the most exciting thing you can do is bowling with a ball too small to bowl with, escaping the hurt is hard. Bowling with a softball is not optimal for getting out hurt. And I got kicked out for throwing the ball overhand. Thinking it was a softball, I threw it at somebody. That helped ease my hurt a bit.

My Problems Were Gone at the Casino
I lost all my money. That took around eight minutes.
Once I lost all my money, I stopped thinking about my other problems. I was broke. 
Once you lose five-thousand-dollars that first week, you're not thinking about the love of your life anymore. You're thinking how you will be able to afford a date.

All I had to do was lose all of my money, and all issues in my life were gone. I was spending two-hundred dollars on therapy sessions, and I still had hurt and pain. I would come out of therapy thinking how Shaindel Chana broke my heart. If they would've charged two-thousand a session, I would've forgotten about Shaindel Chana, and I wouldn't have money to gamble. Some therapists don't know how to help.

It's A Mitzvah
I figured, it's a Mitzvah to visit the elderly, so I went to the casino. I thought I was showing respect to my elders by going to the casino. It's a Mitzvah to show respect to your elders. I figured I was running into more seniors at the casino than at the nursing home I was visiting.
So, I decided I should spend more time at the casino. And I stopped going to the nursing home.

I was losing money, so I kept on playing. And that is how gambling got me. A good young man. A kind young man who cares for his elders. A young man who loves other people. A young man who is now broke.

Lessons from the Beginning
I will do anything to justify my gambling addiction and why it's a good idea. I even found a way to turn losing all of my savings into something positive. I found a way to stop visiting the nursing home, so that I could do acts of loving kindness for our elders. I found a way to turn turn losing all my money into therapy. And it's all Shaindel Chana's fault.
Gambling makes me weak. I don't know if going to the casino is forbidden. I do know that dumping me is.
I also know that once I start doing something I will find a way to justify how it helps people. I gave up drinking. But I should note that drinking alcohol helps me be more friendly. I never once drank for myself. I drank to bring joy to others. I'm a giver.

Losing money turned into my therapy. And then I had more problems. Hurt and escape is how it starts. Then starts what they call "chasing your losses," or what I call "losing everything you ever had and your family."
I have no idea if gambling was fun or something I had to do. It was definitely my obsession. At that time, I wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world. Not even Shaindel Chana's Lokshen Spinach Kugel.

Wait. I also lost my grandma who was living in our house. A woman I looked up to and was very close with. I forgot about that. That was real pain. She made a better Lokshen Kugel than Shaindel Chana.
It was even more painful to see how everybody dealt with her once she got sick. I was bothered by how shallow people could be, especially about money. Once she had dementia and couldn't change her will, family stopped visiting. That definitely had a lot to do with why I was numb to losing all that cash. I stuck around, and was there for grandma. I did whatever I could to get the inheritance.

And all of my other issues were gone. I didn't have enough money to worry about anything else. And that helped for a while. Until I realized I had no money. That took a few hours.
Now I was thinking, "I need another job."

I want everybody to know that no matter how much an addiction takes hold of you, you're worth it. You need to hear this. Your life is worth it. Probably not very much right now. You lost your money. But it’s worth it. Keep strong.
You may not get the inheritance. I got nothing. Which has people asking why I spent time with grandma. To quote, "Was it worth the gamble?!"
If I went into detail into that story, it would continue, "It's all about money."

My family is in America. I miss them. Oh. How I love thee, and thine money you send to pay for my livingith in thy Holy Land.
Israel is the family of my nation. The care and love of my national family is apparent. That familial care of a nation has shown this past year. The way we care and watch out for each other. It is unparalleled. Hence, I odeth thee with what I have merited to witness of thine glory.

The family of Israel cares. The care has not shown more than in this past year, where the whole country came together to complain about the price of flights.
Oh. How I love thee and thy financial understanding of supply and demand.

The care extends. Israelis are the first to help in crisis. The care for all life, willing to travel to first aid the citizens of the world. If things are bad, Israelis will be there. This is why they get blamed. They're always at the catastrophe.
Oh. How I love thee and how thy goesth to far off lands to stop flooding and saveth the lives of anti-Semites. Thy goesth to help, doing Mitzvahs, knowing thy willst be blamed for the deluge. How Jews start floods is another one of Gd's great miracles.

The people of Israel don’t say 'excuse me.' They care too much. There is too much love. Pushing and bumping is our Middle Eastern way getting close to one another. It's our national way of hugging.
Packed at the Kotel, we push. We even hold each other up by knocking into one another. It is how we celebrate what is known as Chagim. The holidays, where we come together as one by bumping a Jew you never met. In essence, a hug.
Oh. How I love thee and thine bumping into myselfith. Others considereth thee rude when they are hit, in their lacketh of knowledge of thine culture. A culture of warmth.

Israeli society is replete with statements of advice. When there is a bad day, somebody will say, 'Some days are honey, some are onions.' The way food is used to help one understand life is unparalleled.
Oh. How I love thee and thine knowledge of the spiritual application of vegetation.

My car wasn’t working, a guy passed me and said, 'Shower and drink coffee.' He didn’t fix my car, nor did he help me push it. Nonetheless, afterwards, I felt clean and more awake, allowing me to be more aware of how bad my engine problem was.
Oh. How I love thee and thine understanding of what it takes to driveth a car, awake and clean. Oh. How I remembereth that car I left in the street. The Ford Escort that was towed and never salvaged. As I abandoned thee and went to shower and drink coffee.

Why the beeping? Because Israelis care. I was stopped at a traffic light. They wanted to make sure I did not fall asleep.
Oh. How I love thee and thine ensuring of my preparedness for a green light.

Israel is one big family. Nowhere else in the world do strangers feel comfortable enough to criticize me to my face. Most citizens of other countries hesitate to tell me how ugly my sweater is. 
Oh. How I love thee and thine ability to tell me I am not good. You maketh me feel like I am at home. Without family, no one elseth will telleth me of how not successful I am.

Israel is family. Israel is a home for all Jews. We even accept immigrants from America, who tell us how we should live our lives in Israel; more like Americans. Any other country would kick Americans out for being annoying. But we are family.
Oh. How I love thee. Thine family of Israel. Oh. How I relish the shared love of food, going to the grocery store, sitting in the produce section and eating with my brethren. We may have gotteneth kickedeth out, but we have sharedeth in thine national family experience of not paying for groceries.

Author's Note: I feel that odes are more meaningful written in Biblical English. It is more prayerful.

I just started learning about Kibud Av vEim, honoring my parents, and I've messed up already. It's about to be Father's Day and I'm in Israel. Now what do I do?

​I Have Tried to Show Respect
I recently became more religious and told my parents I have to move to Israel, and they have to pay for me to live in Israel, because that's what my rabbi told me. Then, I told them that I can't eat their food anymore. I did this for my parents. I didn't want them to get an Aveirah. I didn't want them to sin. I believe I said that with respect. 'Mom. I can't eat your food anymore. I love your lasagna and quiches. I just don't want your food to land me in Gehenim.'
Last time I went home, I told my parents they can't watch TV on Shabbat. I am trying to make them better Jews, but they still insist on calling me Brian. I told them to never call me that again, or my Hebrew name, lest they say Gd's name in vain. And I did all of that in the name of the Mitzvah of Kibud Av vEim.
My parents told me they didn't like this new concept of Kibud Av vEim. But I insisted I have to honor them. So, they told me the best way to honor them was to not be annoying and to leave. It turns out they don't like the name Mikakel. And they said that Kaleekaku sounds wrong.
All said and done, this Father's Day I was stuck trying to figure out what to do.

My Dad is in America
I left home to go to Yeshiva in Israel. My parents appreciated that. Check for Kibud Av vEim. They had an extra room in the house to use for what they wanted. I gave them that. Check for Kibud Av vEim. So, they got a hammock put it in my room and threw out all my stuff. They expressed how appreciative they were of me leaving the house by also telling me that I won't have a place to stay when I visit. I feel like I showed a great amount of Kibud Av vEim by bringing them such great joy. I believe that when I stay at the hotel on my next visit, it will give them more room to relax and read on Shabbat. It will also give my mom extra time to make the oven Kosher for me. I think the Mitzvah is bringing our family closer.
I called my parents to say I wanted to visit for Father's Day. My father insisted I don't and said I brought him so much more Nachis from Israel. He didn't consider him having to pay for my flight from Israel to be a Father's Day gift.

What should I get my dad?
Give dad money. After much thought I realized dad doesn't want me thinking about what he needs. He just needs money for a new drill bit.
The problem is that I get my money from my Abba. My rabbi told me it's OK for my dad to pay for me while I'm learning Torah. I told my dad that this will ensure him a place in heaven. It turns out that my dad doesn't care about heaven very much. Right now he just wants some money. He is more worried about paying the mortgage in Frankville, AR.
I took all his money from him when I was a child. I was a good athlete and that is expensive. Which is why he gives me a look. It's a cynical angry look of love. When I see him, I don't know if he wants to shoot me or hug me. My friends in Yeshiva tell me all of their dads give them the same look. It means they love you. If your dad paid for your day school education, that is why he gives you that look.
After much thought and Torah, I decided I should give my dad a call. He pays for that bill too.
I called my dad. I let my dad know how much I love him and made things awkward between the two of us. There was 'love' and then silence. Love kind of made that relationship uncomfortable. 

Where Can I Find a Dad?
I realized I didn't have a dad in Israel. I wanted to show immediate joy to a father on this Father's Day.
I went to the stores. Tried to find a dad. I went to Fox. Dads don't shop at Fox. The shirts come too tight. I went to Shmulik's Hardware and Chumus. I went to Melech HaFalafel. They do not sell dads.
One shopkeeper was quite bothered by my idea of selling dads and insisted slavery was wrong and that the Torah never spoke of selling dads.
It was then that I realized you can't purchase or adopt dads. You can only adopt kids. I was stuck with mine. I told my dad I would write him a letter for Father's Day and he asked, 'Am I going to have to pay for that too?'

Follow Up Notes
I hope me and my dad can work through the love the next time I visit. It was a hard one. The statement 'I love you' is a very uncomfortable situation to work through. I hope we can overcome that.
My rabbi later taught me that Father's Day is not a Mitzvah. Honoring your father is a Mitzvah, and that must be done every day. I started calling my dad all the time. He didn't like that.
My rabbi then taught me that I have to honor him as well. This honor thing is getting to be a bit much. My father can't afford it.
I just saw an Israeli man in a really tight shirt. It was a bothersome moment for which I feel I must do Teshuva. Some Israeli men do shop at Fox. It was almost as bad as my first visit to the beach in Netanya. A horrific sight I went to the Mikveh for. I am still asking H' for forgiveness. No matter how religious I grow to become, I will never go to an all-male beach again. 

Lesson
Love your dad no matter how far away you are. Not having to pay for you to visit will make them happy.
Honor your father. Honor the one that gives you life. There is no substitute. You can't pick up a dad. These men don't want to have to pay for more people. You can't buy a dad. That's not a good use of money and they might lock you up for that.
The guilt I feel for not fulfilling this Mitzvah on Father's Day, though it's not a special Mitzvah is enormous. So much guilt. I believe that is the lesson of Father's and Mother's Day. Feel bad. Feel like you didn't do enough. I truly pray my father is able to put aside enough money for me to fulfill Kibud Av vEim the right way next Father's Day.

If there is one thing Israel has, it's food. Kosher food. This is why I moved to Israel. For the holy food. It's not just food. It's a holy connection.
The best kosher food is in the Holy Land. It is so much better than the kosher food in Topeka.
Oh. How I love thee. Kosher food that is not just pizza. 

Israelis love Tradition. 'The Taste of Yesteryear' is written on half of the falafel stands. For some reason, no matter what the spice of yesteryear they're using is, it’s cumin.
Oh. How I love thee and thy food that never changeth. Before thee I never knew what yesteryear tasted like. Nor did I knoweth it was a word. Tradition is at thy heart as is thine taste of cumin.

Jachnun, Malauach, Choolante. It is all for the taste of yesteryear.  Whatever yesteryear tastes like, before Israel I was scared to eat it. 
Oh. How I love thee. Your connection to thine past is never forgotten. Even if thine food is not fresh. Oh. The oil in thou addeth to thine bread.
​
Shoko BSakit. We have chocolate milk in a bag, so that when you think you finished it and think it’s done, it spills on you.
Oh. How I love thee and thine care for the environment. Always reminding me that I need to put my shirt in the wash after I drink thee.

We have coffee that doesn’t dissolve. It is a Turkish miracle. When I finish the coffee, there is more coffee inside the cup than when I started the coffee. The greater miracle is that Israelis invented the Turkish coffee.
Oh. How I love thee. Thine coffee that shalt never cease.

The whole food shopping experience is holy. We can eat whatever we want in the supermarket. If you can knock back an avocado while in the vegetable section, you don't have to pay. As long as it's in the Super, they don't charge for it.
In America, they have tasting stations. You can’t choose what you want to taste. You take something and they make you feel uncomfortable for opening the pack of chips and not buying it. Not very welcoming to have a guy rationing one chip at a time in a cupcake holder. In Israel, we take it and don’t ask, and it is fine. As long as you eat it in the supermarket, it’s free. It's like being at mom and dad's house.
Oh. How I love thee. Thy budget shopping hast never been better. How you care for thine people and have provideth a spit cup for the olives I eat by thee. And I thank thee for allowing me to taketh the shopping cart home. It is quite useful.

We can go to any falafel stand and eat for free. If you bring your own pita, the salads and dips on the side are free. Load it up. The key is to only eat the top layer of Salatim without hitting the pita. This allows for greater pickled vegetable allotment.
Oh. How I love thee and all thine Salatim on the side of thine falafel stand that I don't have to pay for. You have helped me many times when business was down. I pray thou forgiveth me for taking the Salatim cart. I was not aware that metal cart must stay.

We can take anything out of the hotel dining room. Nobody asks any questions. They have accepted our ability to find ways to take a rugulach tray out of the dining room with no shame. I was at the Dead Sea for breakfast and people were filling up shopping carts, taking it to their room for lunch.
Oh. How I love thee and not having to feel shame smuggling food out of thine buffet. I feel a connection to my brethren when I do so.

The Mangal. In American barbecues are huge. In Israel, the barbecue is intimate. A square made to fit six wings if you place them correctly, angled inside one another.
Oh. How I love thee. I will forever maketh my barbecues in tiny tin tray size form. And thine kindness shown when you wave to thou Mangal with your Nifnoofer. Oh. Thine tradition of celebrating every holiday with thine Mangal. As barbecues are an Israeli tradition.

Meurav Yerishalmi. The special food of Jerusalem. In Tel Aviv, they throw their trash in the garbage. In Jerusalem, we eat it. We're religious and we don't throw out food. Baal Tashchis. Kidneys, intestines, eyebrows. We make a dish of it and eat it along with the taste of Yesteryear.
Oh. How I love thee and thine ability to cook whatever cometh thine way, as thou believeth in H'.

I have put on a lot of holy weight since moving to thee. Oh. How I love thee and all the food you take credit for, especially pizza. I how I will never forget thine Turkish Coffee thou hast created. And thine tradition of celebrating Independence Day with a barbecue. Oh. How I love thee and thine traditions.

Yom HaAtzmaut, Israeli Independence Day is upon us it’s time to talk about what makes Israel special. I love the Holy Land. It's amazing and holy. Here's a little ode to my love of the amazing religious Israel. A religious people in a religious land, with people who also live in Tel Aviv. Here is my prayer of ode. Oh. How I love thee.

Mitzvot permeate all, making everything beautiful. Even the Mitzvah of settling the land is done daily. People doing renovations in the apartment above me, I heard, 'Motik (sweetie). We are settling the land.' And I did hear them settling the land while I was trying to sleep.
When the wife mentioned that their neighbor might be sleeping at 5:30am, her husband responded, 'Mikakel is getting Zechut for joining in the Mitzvah of us redecorating.' I missed Shacharit that morning. Yet, I felt connected to the land and my neighbor's investment in their apartment.
Oh. How I love thee. My dear neighbors who leave their garbage outside my front door. As thou ist religious and must keepeth your home's entrance clean and holy.

Voting is a religious duty in the Homeland. As the Shas party said, 'It’s a Mitzvah to vote.' I voted for Blue and White. I hope it's a Mitzvah to vote for Blue and White too. Maybe the Blue and White party have a rabbi that can get me into heaven as well.
Oh. How I love thee. And I thank thee for allowing me to fulfill the Mitzvah of voting for my government many times every year. Oh. How I thank thee for fulfilling the Hechsher Mitzvah of disbanding the Israeli government.

The sports fans in the Holy Land  are religious. The fans sing 'Mashiach Mashiach Mashiach' when their team is winning, because they know what redemption looks like, and that is Beitar winning a football match.
Oh. How I love thee. And I love to jumpith while I sing. Oh. How I pray Mashiach comes during halftime. Our Messiah will understand that it's rude to disrupteth the flow of the game.

Everything is a holiday in Israel. You have Yom HaAtzmaut, Yom Yerushalayim, Yom Revi’i. Translated, this is Independence Day, Jerusalem Day, Wednesday. Anything to not work. Most of the country takes off on Wednesdays. At least the workers at the post office aren't there when I need them.
Oh. How I love thee. And I love to celebrate even if I must guess when thou ist open for me to pick up my package.

Faith in H' abounds. The way people cross the streets, there is so much belief in Gd. I cross at crosswalks and look both ways. People put their head down and cross. No looking, middle of the road. Emunah is manifested. And the way people drive, the faith. Switching lanes with no blinker. Emunah.
I grew up in America and I am still working on my faith. Someday I hope to have enough Emunah to not look when crossing a road.
Oh. How I love thee. Driving and walking with thee hast helped me witness the presence of H' in our daily life.

The Bible is everywhere, even at the zoo. The Biblical Zoo in Jerusalem. Unique in all its biblical ways, with all the biblical animals like penguins.
Oh. How I love thee. I love all the biblical animals thou exhibiteth in the Holy Land that one may not witness anywhere else in the Middle East, such as kangaroos.

People quote Psukim. Torah is everywhere. When the mechanic overcharged me, he said, 'What is 400 shekels of silver between friends.' I thought that was a lot. I was fine with 400 hundred shekels. But the silver part brought up that bill. Yet, he quoted that Pasuk with a smile, and like Efron he took my money. And when he took my money, he smiled. I brought him so much Simcha. So much happiness.
Oh. How I love thee. You bringeth a smile unto my lips when thou taketh my money. Nowhere else in the world do I feel good getting ripped offeth.

You hear people saying stuff like 'HaKol Bidei Shamaim' (everything is in the hands of Gd). People who don't believe that work. They have jobs. Not us. We believe. And even the non-religious still take off Wednesdays. The non-religious still celebrate the holidays.
Oh. How I love thee.

And there is prayer. Tefillah is everywhere. The Land of King David's psalms. You hear people reciting Tehillim regularly. Especially when trying to cross the street. Focused on the prayer, meditating on the holy words of Tehillim. while walking.
Oh. To thee.

As I have learned over my many years in Yeshiva, the Super Bowl is a Jewish holiday. We will claim it as Jewish. Nobody is showing up to shul or learning Torah on Super Bowl night. Hence, it's a Jewish holiday, and there are traditions. Here are some of them.

Discuss How Jews Are Involved
If you know anybody at the game, you bring them up at the party.
A camera guy is a cousin of a friend's relative. Let the people know. It's tradition. A commercial actor who didn't make it in LA is in the background of a Super Bowl commercial. Let people know.
Nothing makes for more Jewish pride than saying there is a Jew there. Spotting a Kippah in the stands of a broadcast is Jewish pride. Note the Jew. The definition of Jewish pride is being able to say, 'I saw a Jew on TV.' It brings back memories of the pride I felt as a kid when I was watching two Jews fight on Springer with Yarmulkes on.

Make Somebody Jewish
Find a way to make somebody in the game Jewish. After going through the players and coaches, settle on the owner. As long as they're Jewish, it counts. Maybe a Niners fan is Jewish. The tradition is to say a Jew is involved.
Over the years I have learned to identify every Jew. As a Jew, I have learned to single Jews out of a crowd. If I wasn't Jewish, some might call me anti-Semetic. But I am Jewish, and I only do it to identify the bad athletes.
Turns out not the owners of the Chiefs or Niners are not Jewish. Though it makes the tradition harder, use that as a way to combat antisemitism. Tell your friends at work that Jews don't own everything, so they can find a different reason to hate us.
If finding a Jew is hard, find a Jewish connection. 'Mike Brown is a Christian Zionist.' Zionist is close enough to Jewish.
 
Figure Out Who Is Going To Win Based on Kabbalah
Somebody has to give a Dvar Torah. Somebody sharing words of Torah at the meal is tradition. They can't just sit and enjoy the game. They have to justify their watching the game with Torah, ruining the experience for me.
You can say something like, 'Eighty-eight in Gematria is the Hebrew Word for "Chief." There will be eighty-eight points.' We love predicting with Hebrew letters based on numbers. Now you can give a nice Torah speech at the party, and disrupt the game.
Note: The Kabbalistic prediction usually happens after the game. Don't use it to place a bet. Placing bets you'll lose is Asur.
 
Talk About How Much the Seats Cost
The commentators are pointlessly conversing about the catch made over the secondary. Why?! I want to know how much that guy paid for the ticket in the third row. That is more dramatic. Why are they not talking about Mark’s new business he opened and the Disney vacation he gave up for the seat in section 2A?!
Couple that with the conversation about how a half minute ad costs over five million dollars and you have fulfilled the requirement of the Super Bowl Seder.
 
Focus on the Commercials
...and the chicken wings.
What we will talk about on Monday. Not the game. I have never met somebody at shul who knew what happened in a Super Bowl. But they know what Dunkin' Donuts and State Farm did.
And watch the game during halftime. I don't know why. The game is not going on. It's tradition.

Prayer Break
Special mention to my devout brethren who don't watch the halftime show, as they don't want to end up in Gehenim for a football game.
The Maariv break is for the few Jews who understand the game. The ones that didn't grow up religious. They use the halftime opportunity to Daven. Fans of the Niners will put in a word to Gd on behalf of their favorite team. This of course assumes that H' is a football fan, which of course He is not. He is into cricket.
Note: The prayer break helps us if we're rooting for one of the teams. It focuses our Kavanah. 
 
We Eat
They tried to kill them, they lost, let's eat. I believe that's how it goes.

Set Up a Buffet
That's like a Kiddish. A Kiddish with brisket. Every Jewish holiday has brisket. Shabbis has chicken. Chagim have brisket.
And there is a tradition to have four bowls of guacamole.
If you truly are a fan and your team loses, question your faith, and eat more.

Stay Up in Israel
Stay up all night, till the students come to the rabbi and tell him that the time for the morning Kriyat Shema has come. I felt it was important to be blatenly obvious about the Pesach references. Jews should not be subtle at a holiday meal. I learned that from my aunt, who shares her politics while telling everybody else that 'we're not going to talk politics.'

Antisemitism
No Jewish event is complete without antisemitism. Robert Kraft made sure we will get our fill. A Tzadik.

I went back to my alma mater and I found so many anti-Israel protest tables on the quad. I had to stick up for Israel and our people. I won't say the name of the alma mater, as it is an Ivy League, and the students are apparently very dumb. I am worried for the Jewish students on campus now. H' Yishmor. Gd should guard us.
I had to argue with somebody who was vehemently pro-Palestine, which they figured is located somewhere near Thailand. And the arguments got worse from there. Here are some of the arguments I had with these very well-educated people.

It's Not Antisemitism Argument
I told them that their anti-Israel sentiments were exactly antisemitism. And I asked, 'Why are there always attacks on Jewish communities in America or Europe when Arabs attack Jews in Israel?!' One student exclaimed, 'Israel is located in Europe. You fool.'
I received a strong argument in return that it’s only anti-Israel, as a Jew right next to us with a Kippah was being chased by a Palestinian flag.

I had to explain to one pro-Palestinian protester that 'Allah Akbar' does not mean 'kill Jews.' I was personally offended when one student said it means to not have control over your vehicle when you're driving it in a crowd. When I told them that the translation is 'Gd is greatest,' they explained to me how it's the same thing. 
Later that day, they were not cheering 'Allah Akbar' anymore. They were just chanting 'Kill the Jews.' I asked why they took out 'Allah Akbar.' They explained to me that they checked with some of their Muslim friends what Allah Akbar means and their Muslim friends said Jews have the same belief. They said, 'If that's the case. We hate Akbars.'
I asked why these students for finger paint as a real art were so involved in this anti-Israel protest. They said, 'Because we are atheists, and we believe the Gd of the Muslims is the true Gd.'
How finger painting turned into a college course, I have to ask the administration. I believe there was a protest and they gave in.

One very bright Ivy League woman said they’re not anti-Semites. She was holding a banner that said, ‘All Jews should die.’ I asked how that’s not antisemitism. She said, ‘Jews should die. But I still love them.’

The What Hamas Really Wants Argument
It's hard to make peace with people whose only stated goal is to kill you. I let the student know that this is their goal. One student looked at me blankly, ‘Then what is the problem?’

I told one liberal who was chanting 'give peace a chance,' that this isn't Vietnam. I told them that Hamas wants to destroy Israel and kill the Vietnamese. They said, 'Because the Vietnamese are Jews.'
I showed them a video of Hamas leaders telling them to kill Jews. They kept on saying that is not what Hamas is about. They said they trust Hamas. I said, 'Then you should trust what they say.'​ They let me know that that sentiment is anti-Hamas 'which is very offensive, and I am hurt.' I was thus introduced to the logic of how Palestinians want peace with Israel when they say that Jews should die and that Israel should not exist.
I showed them the Hamas charter which says to avoid any negotiations for peace and to destroy Israel or die through martyrdom. They said, 'You still have to negotiate.' I reiterated that they are against negotiation. They said, 'Then you should negotiate with them.' When I explained that negotiations by definition need the other people, they said, 'Stop lying.'

Acts of Terror
I was not dissuaded when the non-student, who was apparently a student, somehow, though they were not part of the university, argued that shooting from behind their children is to be commended. I asked for an explanation, and they told me that 'as long as Hamas does it, it’s OK.'
It got out of hand when they argued, 'Using civilians to protect your fighters is a good idea. All is fair in love and war.' I exclaimed, 'But they are not fighting their own civilians.' To which they said, 'The Gazan civilians are Jewish.'
I told them about the inhumanity of the human shield. They said, 'And warriors have always had shields.' I told them that they had shields made of metal, not babies. They said, 'You use what you have.' 

Follow-up Notes
I have a hard time arguing with such hatred for the Olam, the world. There is no Emes in what these students that aren't students are arguing on behalf of their professors. I knew there was no coming back when the pro-choice girl said that rape is fine if it's part of your culture.
Then they blamed the Gazan Jews for hitting the hospital with a rocket through the Jews of Islamic Jihad. 
I hope I am better equipped to go back and educate them next week. I have to work on my ability to convince them that Israel exists in Israel.

***To Brachot and Kavod to our Holy Brothers and Sisters who went to Shamaim too soon. And may we see the return of our people that have been kidnapped, as we pray for their health and immediate return. Words can't express the devastation and concern for the loss and atrocities, and the heartfelt gratitude to our soldiers. Mishtatfim BTzar Shel HaAm

I never experienced Lag BOmer in my life. It was my first year in Yeshiva and I already messed up counting the Omer on day two. I had no idea what day thirty-three meant. I didn't even know people were still counting at that point. One of the students in Yeshiva made it to day twenty-eight without messing up. We now celebrate him as a Tzadik. So, I did what most people do on Lag BOmer. I went grocery shopping. I needed dinner.

On My Way Back Home
I was on my way back from the supermarket when I smelled a fire in the woods. I ran towards it and noticed that kids were burning stuff. I saw flames flying high and kids playing right by the huge flames. I thought it should be reported. It looked dangerous.
More people came to the spectacle. Yet, nobody said anything. Just the opposite. They joined and commended the kids. Tons of people were around. They saw it. They did nothing. They saw kids running and pushing each other near the fire. They said nothing. Adults even started their own fire. All while the kids' fire got bigger and bigger.
I asked the children if they knew how to make a fire, as I was a Boy Scout. They said, 'No. Only non-religious people learn stuff like how to make a fire. We have Emunah. Belief in Gd.' And their belief in Gd showed, as their fire got even bigger.

More Fires
I saw more fires starting up.
I thought it was weird to see children burning doors and carpets, but they were in the fire. Household appliances made their way to the flames. Anything that could burn or melt made its way into the fire. It must have been a miracle of Lag BOmer. One of the groups of kids playing freeze tag near the uncontained fire ran out of wood, yet they kept the fire burning with artifacts from their homes.
It looked dangerous, but the kids told me it was a religious thing. They said, 'On Lag BOmer, you're supposed to make huge fires with cleaning products.' So, I felt safe. When they told me it was spiritual, I felt even safer around all of the huge uncontained fires.
One of the children showed me his oven cleaning spray. It said flammable on it, as well as danger. He threw it right into the fire, as it was flammable and the fire started dwindling a bit. And it exploded. A gigantic flame flew, and happiness was had. The pride that kid had when he got the desired result of burning something illegal was the kind of joy one can only have when connecting to Gd.
They went on tell me that it was for Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai.  Why Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai likes fires so much, I don't know.

What Should I do?
At the moment, I thought I should save their lives and put out the fire. Smokey Bear always taught me to put out a forest fire. Smokey Bear also said to not burn plastic. However, Smokey Bear was not a good Jew. He didn't know Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. And he didn't understand how important an uncontained fire is to help one connect with Gd.
I put down my groceries. I went to join in more fire parties. I was not a bystander anymore. Once I noticed the police joining in, I became an accomplice. An accomplice supported by the cops.
Is this legal? They were doing it for tradition. Hence, it is OK. Only in Israel do cops let you do things that could be illegal and unsafe if you are celebrating a holiday. On Sukkot, they let you run through the streets holding a sharp spear looking palm branch, facing out. Why? Because it is tradition. And the cops in Israel know that if it is tradition, it is safe.
What a beautiful country. In America, when you do something dangerous, the police make you stop. However, in Yerushalayim, they know what a Mitzvah is.

More Lessons
I learned the tradition of fires and kids running around them with bows and arrows. Some kids were running with knives facing out. That wasn't a tradition, but it was also dangerous. So, it represented the Emunah that Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai had. What a beautiful Mitzvah?!

I turned around and my groceries were gone. The kids burned them. Bag too.

Follow-up Notes
At one point I saw a kid burning wood. I believe he ran out of plastic.
The following year I stood by my door. A kid tried to take it. I told him it belongs to my house. To help with his fire, I gave him a microwave that had broke.
One of the people told me that the fire was for Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai's Yahrzeit. Though I had lit a Yahrzeit candle before, I have a ways to go in my Emunah. I still don't feel comfortable lighting a bonfire on my kitchen counter.

Next year, we'll talk about my trip up north and how I made it to Mairon following fires.

My first time I went out in Israel it was for a drink. Me and a bunch of guys from the Yeshiva went out for a Lchaim. It was a Thursday night and we went for a beer. In Israel, Thursday nights are like Saturday nights, and I like that. It's better to bring a hangover to shul than work.
That first night out might have been a spiritual experience. I don't remember what happened. Though, it was Israel, so it was a holy night out drinking at the bars. I was new to the Yeshiva experience and I was good at it.

Once the High Holidays came, the spiritual experience of partying in Israel changed. Thursday night after Rosh Hashana, my friend Yanky said, 'Let's go out tonight.' So, I went.
You don't argue with Yanky, unless if you want a heated debate. He was a second year guy in the Yeshiva and he already learned how to scream at people when learning Gemara. Yanky was masterful at yelling at his Chavrusa, learning partner, which meant he knew what he was talking about. The more you reproach your Chavrusa, the better learner you are.
Being a Chavrusa to Yanky was an honor that very few had. He was the perfect Chavrusa for learning Gemara Baba Kama. No other Chavrusa had the ability to make you feel like you were being scolded and abused while learning the laws of damages.

We went up north. I thought we were going out. I didn't realize that meant a two hour drive.
Going up north in Israel is a spiritual experience, as roads are windy and not lit, and you're dependent on Gd to not get hit by the falling rock. There was a sign that read 'Falling Rock,' which kind of scared me, as that meant rocks were falling right now. Adding to the spirituality of Israel, I said my first prayer at that moment.
Not fully understanding the excitement of going up north, we ended up at the Rambam's grave-site, and Yanky started to scare me. I thought we were going out to party, and we were now at the graves of Tzadikim (righteous people).
I had no idea what to think. I thought I might've joined a Yeshiva full of hedonists, who have some kind of grave-site rituals. Maybe it was part of the Yeshiva hazing process, where they tell you about righteous rabbis and then leave you in the graveyard to get eaten by ghosts. I was scared.
And then the good times started to role. After the Rambam's Kever, we hit the graves of a few more rabbi's and even a prophet are two. We prayed. We had rugalach. We drank schnapps. And since then, going out has never been the same.

The coolest thing of all. We prayed. We drank and prayed. And I got back to Yeshiva alive. And I was scared to talk to Yanky for a month and a half after that.

Since that night out with Yanky, my life has changed. Now I know what going out means in the Frum world.

Follow Up Notes
It's a new form of partying I've taken on. That's how us religious people do it. What am I doing later tonight? I'm going up north and hitting some Kevers. It's just good times. The rabbis who have passed, Z"L, are what makes for the Thursday night experience.
Last time we hit the Kever of the Rambam. Then we popped over to Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. We even headed to Yonatan Ben Uziel. On the way back we stopped off at Rabbi Meir Bal HaNes. We got back to Jerusalem right when the bars were closing. Amazing. And we got free rugalach.
Rugalach is the backbone of all Jewish events in Israel. And when its free, it's a real Simcha.

Now I get excited to see dead people and take down a few. And I understand why Yahrzeit candles come in shot glasses.
Can't wait to hit the Ari's Kever this Thursday night. It's going to be dope. Hit the grave and then go for a dunk in the cold bath. The Frum people call it a Mikvah.

I used to do baseball tours. I now see there are Gedolim (important rabbis) that are buried all over the world. I'm going to definitely do a Kever tour of Europe. I think I'll enjoy seeing the graves more than the anti-Semites.

How do I know who the more important rebbes are? I judge by the size of the hole by their grave. The bigger the rebbe the bigger the pit at his Kever. This allows for more notes to be tossed in. Though, older rabbis and righteous ancestors don't have note pits. In the 1200s, people didn't walk around with pens and Post-its.
There are also more candles at holy Kevers of ancient rabbis. Tea lights also represent the holiness of our sages. The more tea lights the holier the sage. I'm still trying to figure out who the better rabbis are. It's very confusing. The Rambam's Kever doesn't have a tea light focus. Due to that, the Rambam's Kever is not a top party destination.

To sum it up, my name is now Mikakel Kaleekaku. That's how the good Jews know me. I don't say Gd's name in vain, and I will not allow my name to be the reason people are going to Gehenim. Thus, I added 'k's to the vowels.
My parents named me Brian. That was their mistake. I love them. To their defense, they didn't know that my name had a vowel. They didn't mean to be blasphemers, but they gave me the wrong name. It turns out they don't agree with that. And they also say I am still their child.
Here is the full account.

Visiting Mom and Dad
I came home and told my parents they gave me the wrong name. My mom wasn't happy. Why? I don't know. I thought they would be happy I was visiting. She also didn't like when I told her she bought me the wrong sweater for Chanukah. That was when I was in third grade. I still remember her telling me that I will wear the sweater.
They called our rabbi (at least it was their rabbi- I only grew up with him) and asked him and he said that Brian was my name. To quote, 'He always got called up to the Torah as Brian Ben Shlomo.' To note, my dad changed his name to Spencer. The rabbi refuses to call him up as Spencer. The rabbi was worried that the congregants wouldn't go for Brian Ben Spencer HaKohen being called up to the Torah.
My mom brought out the birthing records and the legal documents. She even showed me my social security card. She started yelling, 'All of these say Brian! Brian!!! We sent Brian to school! I gave birth to Brian!!! I think your dad even said, "If it's a boy, we're calling him Brian." I was in labor and he said Brian!!!!! Your name? Brian!!!!!!!!'

Follow Up Notes
My parents refused to call me Mikakel Kaleekaku. So we settled on Brykin.
After the whole debacle, Mom said we're eating dinner. I told my mom and dad that their dishes aren't good enough for me. They didn't like that idea either. I just don't think they understand what it takes to be a Jew.
They raised me a Jew, but they don't know what it takes to raise a Jew. I'll bring that conversation up at dinner tomorrow night. I hope they don't overreact to that too.

Kiddish Food Is Amazing
There was a great Kiddish at shul. I finished eating whatever I could at Kiddish and had a two mile walk for Shabbat lunch. I thought it was good planning. So, I filled up at Kiddish. Had the herring, kichel, schnapps, choolante, kugel, gefilte fish. I even had Danish, as that is Jewish cake.  I felt bad when some of the other congregants didn't get kichel and potato kugel, but I enjoyed it. It was a small plate, but I was right back at the table.
I didn't sit down at Kiddish, as that would interfere with the time I needed to refill my plate, possibly hindering my kugel access as well. I didn't move from the table. That was a technique I saw my friend Shloymi doing. He told me to that you pick a spot near the good stuff, blocking out other people from scooping it. The 'good stuff' means choolante to Shloymi; at least until the meat is gone.
It was an excellent Kiddish. The kind that makes it worthwhile to be Frum. It mamish makes you want to go to shul. A reason to pray. I ate. I started to walk. I should've waited. They had kishka in the choolante, and I still don't understand what that means. They told me it was stuffed innards. But it was pareve. I don't know how they created non-meat animal products. All I know is that I'm new to Frum living, so I haven't learned to time my kishka stomach abilities. 

The Walk To Shabbat Lunch
I started walking to lunch. Ten minutes in, my stomach was killing. Around twenty minutes in, I got the sweats. I couldn't hold it. As a Bal Teshuva (somebody new to being religious), my stomach was not yet coated for heimish food. I had to go to the bathroom.
What was I to do? Even my rabbi, who I asked later, had no idea. He said he hadn't had this Shayla (question) asked of him much before. I guess people don't share this issue publicly. They must go when they're stuck on a long Shabbis walk with no bathrooms. The rabbis must not consider that carrying.
I had no idea what to do. I can't knock on doors, going to strangers homes, 'My stomach is killing. I need your bathroom. It was a really good Kiddish.' They don't understand Shabbis or kishka.
Twenty-five minutes in, and I am walking slow, I had no choice. Each step, I'm taking a chance. I knocked on a door and scared the family. When they realized I wasn't there to proselytize, they threatened to call the police. If I tried converting them, they might've let me in. Converting them would've been the normal thing to do. They would've understood I had a reason to be there. 

Public Bathrooms Are Not Shomer Shabbis Friendly
Being that I couldn't knock on more random people's doors, to use their bathroom, I started walking real fast. I thought that was my only choice. That didn't help. 

I got to the library, which was open, though people don't use it. Problem! They only had electric doors to get into the library. Anti-Semites. They know Jews will hang out there on Shabbis if the doors aren't electric. The air-conditioning.
Seeing no Frum Jews, as we can't use electric doors on Shabbat, I waited there for somebody to walk in. I don't know how inconspicuous I was. I tried standing there right outside the door, waiting for somebody to return a book, with my suit and tie in the summer heat. My plan was to walk in right as they did, so that they would be the ones using the electricity. I was going to piggyback off their sin; hence; not sinning myself.
Finally, somebody came and I chased them into the library. I did everything I could to avoid triggering the doors. Sneaking behind people to get into a building takes tact. I definitely think they saw me. I was the only one going into the library on a Saturday with a suit, and it was a small doorway. I believe I rubbed up against the guy. The guy jumped a bit and I heard the guy cry out, 'He's chasing me.'
He must've thought I took his wallet. So, I ran. I made it to the bathroom real fast, before they got to security.

The toilet was electric. I hope I'm not going to Gehenim for the flush. I had to go. I jumped off the seat. I hope it didn't sense me. I hope it only flushed because there was a fly that ran past the censor. 
I couldn't wait there for somebody else who needed the bathroom. If I could've, I would've waited for them to need to sit, and jumped up right away.

Follow Up Notes
Security should know Jewish law. How many Jews throughout history have been convicted due to keeping the laws of Shabbat? Guilty due to needing a bathroom on Shabbat.
All towns with Jews should have Shabbis bathrooms between shul and the homes of the Frum Jews.

I hope Jews don't get a bad rap because of electric doors and elevators. Later that day, I had to go fifteen stories. I jumped into an elevator after that woman. She asked what floor I am on. I said I live on your floor. She was freaked out. She'd never seen me. She didn't know I was Shomer Shabbat, and just trying to get closer to the fifteenth floor, where the hosts for Shabbis lunch live.
I ran down two flights after we got off the elevator, and made it to Shabbat lunch before she could report me to security.

Next time, I'm striking up a conversation about the book. That will be more inconspicuous. As they come to the door, I'll ask what book they're returning. Ask if it's good. They'll think I'm one of those Blockbuster pros who knows how to pick out the VHS tapes right when they're dropped off. Then, when we get inside, they return the book and I'm off to the bathroom. Like they never met me.

​The Kishka was worth it. To note, pareve is Frum for vegan. Anything pareve is vegan, even eggs.
Now I know why orthodox Jews like to live next to the shul. I'm going to buy a house near the shul. My post Kiddish walking abilities are no more than ten minutes.

I said goodbye to my parents. They thought they were losing a son. They weren't losing me. I just wasn't going to see them anymore. 
My mom said I wouldn't call, but I told her that I have to. Kibud Av vEim is a Mitzvah, as I explained to my Mom that I would call her because God said I have to. So, she accepted God. She now liked God, and I did my part in Kiruv (bringing a Jew closer to Yiddishkeit- Judaism- I will explain every word, as I want you to also become religious).
​
​The flight was to Israel for Yeshiva. My parents wanted to know why I gave up. They assumed that giving up a steady job as an industrial engineer is not normal. They thought that it made no sense to give up a six-figure contract that was set for the next eight years. They've never been to Jerusalem. I told them, 'Torah.' It was then that they knew Torah was an excuse to not work. And I love Torah.
I made the flight on time. It was the first of many miracles. I was late. Saying goodbye to my parents took way too long. They never learned about Bitul Zman (wasting time from Torah). 
The greatest miracle was that half of the passengers on the plane were late. I am assuming that the pilots know it takes a long time to explain to your family that you are giving up your job for connection with God.
 
I got on the plane and sat next to a tiny human, called a child. Another great miracle. I had space. Then, a religious woman wanted to change seats with me. Not a miracle. That was my first test. As Avraham had ten tests, God was testing me as well (I don't say Lord, as I am not catholic- I am Jewish and thus I refer to God). Giving up a good seat on the plane was my first.
She said she wanted to sit next to her husband. She said it was my duty as a religious Jew to let her sit next to her husband. I had not yet learned that Mitzvah. But I was looking forward to learning about it in Yeshiva.
As I changed seats, I realized she just didn't want to have to sit next to a huge guy who insisted on lifting up the armrest, so he could have enough room to fit. She wanted more space. Maybe it's a Mitzvah to give people space. I don't know. I believe they bought separate seats, because there was one aisle seat, and there was no seat next to that aisle seat. And her husband wasn't going to not take the aisle seat. The huge guy, I ended up next to, taught me about the word finagle, as he was whacking me with his elbow and sweating on me.

There was no food on the first leg of the flight. The rabbi at shul didn't teach me that you have to order Kosher food, and then call to make sure they have your Kosher food, and then to check again to make sure they know, and then to explain that you really need a separate meal that is Kosher. I thought you just tell them you want Kosher and check the Kosher box, and then you'll get it. I hope the Gemara has a lesson on how many times you have to call the airline to make sure you have a Kosher meal.
On the second leg, another miracle occurred. I got food. The airline didn't have my name on the food list. But they had the name of the woman I gave my seat to. The next thing I know, they had an extra meal for me, and my name was Malkie. Then, I got another meal. Somebody said they didn't trust the Hashgacha (kosher supervision). I began to respect people who are Machmir (stringent), and don't trust other rabbis, and I had food.
Another miracle. The dinner was only enough food for a snack, and it lasted the whole flight. I am on my way to Israel and I am experiencing all the great miracles of our people. I told myself at that time that I would eat every day, to commemorate the little food that lasted the whole flight. I also committed to eating more than the chicken sliver strip if I was ever going to be Fleishiks again (Fleishiks means I meat, and once I eat meat I have to wait six hours to eat dairy- which is why Jews don't eat meat for breakfast, and why I will never eat meat before 8pm).
The greatest miracle of all. I fell asleep on the huge guy's chest. The little space I had on the plane, was enough to sleep for one night. And to this day, I commemorate that with sleeping. Judaism is about commemorating. I commemorate the oil that lasted eight days, the freedom from Haman, and being able to sleep in discomfort.

When I disembarked, I made it through security. That was a miracle, as I was smuggling in a lot of deodorant. B"H they didn't ask me.
It was God's hand involved in my trip. The Mitzvah of giving up my seat so that somebody else could enjoy the flight. The food that lasted me the whole flight. The not feeling bad about my parents crying as I left.
And the most amazing miracle of all. As I entered Israel, they all welcomed me. I don't know what they said. It was Hebrew. But they welcomed me in the holy language of the Torah. Such a Kiddish H.' Only in Israel do they speak Hebrew. In Israel, Brooklyn, and hotels around the world on Pesach. But they speak Hebrew in Israel too. And they welcomed me, 'Bruchim HaBaim HaBayta.' As I learned later, 'Welcome home.' With all the sad goodbyes, I was home. My belongings weren't there and I had to share a bunk bed with a thirty year old man, but I was home. And I told my non-religious parents I was home, and they weren't happy. And my mom doesn't like God that much right now.

My luggage wasn't there. Yet, they said you can live without your luggage. Only in Israel, the Holy Land, does one not need such physical Gashmiyus, like your belongings. You only need your Neshama and Tzitzis (which I was wearing).

When we stepped out of the airport, I was told to kiss the holy ground. Only in Israel is the ground so clean that you can kiss it.
Ten days later, my luggage came. Another miracle.

Follow Up Notes
I don't believe the holy ground was swept. I did take in a dust ball as I kissed the holy land.
​I still haven't called my mom. Nonetheless. I'm learning. ​If I ever get reception in Yeshiva, that will be another huge miracle. My mom will appreciate that miracle. Right now, she doesn't like God or Golan Telecom very much.
In Yeshiva, we learn in Aramaic. I understand none of it. I still can't tell you if it's a Mitzvah to give up your seat on the plane for somebody who wants a better seat. I am now saving up for a first-class ticket. I don't believe they ask you to do Mitzvahs in first class.
I understand that this story is inspirational. It has inspired many in their journey towards being good Jews. 

Valentine's Day just passed, so we can finally talk about love as Jews. There is time to Tu BAv, so let's start preparing now.
As I have recently turned religious, I have much experience dating, and I want to help us, as Jews, bring Kedusha (holiness) to the idea of love notes. Here are some Jewish love notes, that you can use.

I love you so much. I want to see you in a shaytel.
Make sure you really love them, before telling them you want to see them with a head-covering. You can't play with people's emotions. Especially telling them you want to see them in a shaytel, another person's hair; that is the next level love and commitment. Tichels or bandannas are not as intimate as another person's hair. 

You want to go to Kiddish with me?
Sharing Kiddish is an intimate experience. If you've been together for many years, you can let them know that you will make space for them to get to the choolante. Fighting off other people for them shows that you are their night and shining armor.

Your scholarliness makes me want to learn Torah with you.
That may be forward, as it shows a lot of passionate intention.

I want a beautiful Shabbat table.
That is the line. Nothing will win the love of a Jewish woman more than saying 'Shabbat table.' Just say 'Shabbat table' and you are good to go.

I want to share a Shabbat table with you, at my parents' house.
If you are young, that is a safer bet. You don't want to be stuck writing a note that requires you to make a Shabbat meal. It's easier to depend on your mother.

I want to introduce you to my parents.
They are going to be involved in the relationship. You have no choice. Might as well introduce them right away. Start off the relationship with proper expectations.

I love you so much, I will treat you to a Kosher restaurant.
That takes a lot of savings. Anything more than a Kosher pizza shop is going to force you to lose a lot of money.

I want to treat you to a candle lit dinner at a five star restaurant.
This is great, as there are no Kosher restaurants in your area. The thought means everything, and you save money. This is why you don't mention having a dinner at your place. You would have to pay for that.

Will you go to the separate beaches of Israel with me?
You have to go to different beaches. But to go at the same time, that is romance.

I want to see you on the other side of the Mechitzah.
Telling them you want to see them in shul, on the other side of the partition, is love. Only share this with somebody you want to marry. Remember, we don't play with emotions, especially when it comes to separating in public. With this note of love, you will also be suggesting that you will be driving to Frum weddings in the future, where you will not be seeing each other. 

Will you be my Shidduch?
You can even ask if they will be your spouse. Saying 'Shidduch' chases away less girls, and it can push off the marriage for many years. What's great about saying 'Shidduch' is that it allows you to feel like a whole community is part of your relationship. It also helps you feel like you are always on a first date, and that you have to report what happened to other people.

I am going to ask the Shadchan about you.
Wow. Hold on there young lad. That is as forward as you can get. Saying that you are going to get the matchmaker involved in asking her out, that is a bit crazy.
Getting a Shadchan involved is saying marriage. Once the matchmaker is involved, you are not going on dates to enjoy yourself. That's what I've learned over my time as a Frum Jew. You get the matchmaker involved and you're now accountable for your relationship, and birthing the next generation of Jews. That Shadchan is going to be following up on your relationship, daily.

You Want to be my plus one.
In the days of polygamy this was the number one sold Hallmark card. I believe our forefathers used this. 

I want five kids.
State the fact that you want five kids. Nothing else. No need to tell them with whom. Just stating it, they will know you are serious about a relationship. With whom is not important.

I had my tonsils taken out.
Nothing more intimate than sharing your medical history. Truth be told, any form of complaint is the greatest show of love to your Jewish romance.

Clean the fridge. And don't leave your stuff out.
Insinuating a fight should only be used if you are already engaged and committed to marriage.

Whatever your note, don't pull the strings of one's heart, unless if you are ready to commit to their parents as in-laws. You should all find love and share a home of many notes that don't only express anger.