I've got to tell you about this. I never knew the power of my Yarmulke till this open mic. I thought my Yarmulke was supposed to remind me about Gd. I didn't know it was supposed to get other people mad.

The Story
I sat down at the bar and ordered a Diet Coke on the rocks. I'm not a loser.

This young girl was performing her piece at the open mic in Buffalo. She was old enough to know that Jews should be killed. She had been to college. She had Jewish professors. And she had traveled to France, so she knew about Israel.
As part of her piece she was going off on the "genocide of the Palestinian people." I sat there shocked. Who are these Palestinian people she speaks of? Who was doing this to these Palestinian people? I must stop them. Now. I had just shared laughs with some Arabs in Israel. I am assuming some of them identify as Palestinians. I would hope nobody is doing anything to them. But she was adamant that there was a genocide going on somewhere.
I didn't know if that was part of the song or not. There was no music accompaniment. Maybe it was one of those music storyteller shows where they leave out the music. They get so excited about the story and they forget it's a concert. And she was really getting into this story. She started talking about Israelis being the devil. She was very passionate about that.
I was trying to figure out what she was talking about. And I couldn't figure out how to respond. Everybody loves a good story. What am I going to do? Start yelling at her for her creativity? Shake her up and mess up the story? Maybe she was speaking about the genocide of the Palestinians that lived 4,000 years ago; the start of the Palestinian people and their documented history as a state.

She started speaking of this utopian society where women could frolic and get raped. And finally, rape would be supported. There would be no more judgment of the beheading of little children. A paradise where genocide would finally be defined as defending one's people against enemies who are trying to murder everyone in their nation. She was speaking of a Messianic Palestinian time of redemption. It was a beautiful story, delivered with emotion and tears, setting up the song "Zombie," written in support of the Palestinian people who had to deal with the ruthless British in Ireland. Everybody clapped. The story was amazing. How she intertwined the need to kill all Jews in the utopia which was Palestinian Ireland. It was brilliant. To be honest, I think I even clapped. It was the most creative story. Innovative, ingenious, original.
At least now I knew where the Palestinian genocide was happening. In Ireland.
The story was brilliant, but I felt for those who identify as Palestinian. Did they really feel rape was fine? And she continued with "the day of joy when Jews were dragged through the streets and finally burned. A day in which cheers were had by all." She left some of that part out. Her friends were disappointed. They were hoping for more of the story of Satan the Jew. They wanted to hear more of this utopian ridding of the Jews, as the crowd were pacifists and believed in love of all.
So, she cried for the twelve million reported Gazan deaths and went into the song.

How Do I Respond
My Jewish side and love of my nation and people kicked in. I thought this was wrong, even if it was a story. If you're going to tell a story, tell it correctly. I was bothered she didn't throw the Black Plague into this. If she was going to tell this story with any facts, she would've mentioned how Jews make it a point of drinking blood. Which is Kosher if it's from nonJewish children and Shechted just right.

I didn't know if I could argue against stuff that doesn't exist. I simply sat there, took off my winter hat, and there was my Kippah.
She finished her song on behalf of the Cranberries who wrote it for the Palestinian people of Ireland and everybody clapped. Cheers were heard throughout the streets of Buffalo. "What a piece. The Palestinians of Gaza should be allowed their Gd given right to behead toddlers and burn them with pride. It's their tradition and the Jewish people of Israel have the Chutzpah to try to stop it. Genocide!!! They're committing genocide. Why do the Israelis have an issue with Hamas using their own children in a war? They're their children. Should not all soldiers be protected by their children???" And the story somehow turned real.
That last line was good. You felt that.

They Were Offended
Taking to the cheers and claps she looked to the side and saw me sitting there, with my Kippah. My presence offended all. I killed the brilliant rendition of the Cranberries. No. It was my Kippah. My Kippah was screaming at them and they were offended. The Kippah. That Chutzpan.

Open mic girl's hatred for me was felt. I went to the bathroom and as I came back, with my Kippah still on my head, her friends went to check on her. They saw my Kippah and they were bothered that nobody knocked it off.
Her and all of her friends were having talks about me. "Did he approach you?" They wanted to know if I hit on her. Another act of genocide.
She responded, "No. But his Yarmulke did. And his Yarmilke had a whole lot to say. Perched there, arguing with me. The audacity of the Yarmulke. It even said that his people only want peace and to protect the innocent lives. His Yarmulke told me the Israeli army even knocks on doors and tries to protect the non-terrorist Palestinians who want to kill his people, by letting them know they have to attack the area. Chutzpah. Knocking on doors."

Before I got up for my piece she asked the MC, "Is he going up." And then she ran out with her friends. Crying. "How can they let a Jew sing?! This is America. I thought this was the land of freedom and acceptance. I hate this country."

She was offended by my Kippah. She saw my Kippah and she couldn't argue against it. My Kippah made the bar a not safe space. The presence of the Yarmulke made the bar non-inclusive.
I was thus quarantined to sit at the bar alone. They almost kicked me out, as my Kippah was arguing too much, and very loudly. Quite disruptive. 
Thank Gd, they didn't kick me out. They were going to kick out my Kippah, but my Kippah didn't break any rules. It just said that Jews are a good, kind and caring people, that hate having to go to war and defend against terror.
Kippahs can be very loud. Especially, the Bucharian ones.

My Performance
When they all left, I asked her friend with the Kafeya, "Is it because I'm Jewish?... You don't have to leave because I'm Jewish. I know we can't dance." He smiled. I didn't know where he stood, as he was wearing his Kafeya on his shoulders. I didn't know if that was an American tradition or or an Arab tradition. It seems like most American college students wear Kafeyas on their shoulders. A style thing.
I know it's not an Arab tradition to wear the Kafeya on the head. Maybe it's a Middle Eastern tradition to wear the Kafeya as a shawl when the weather gets really cold in Ireland. That's probably where it started.

I was amazed at the protest against me and my people in a small bar in Buffalo, New York. But I wore that Kippah with pride and sung some songs about people getting along. "Sing along, even if you're Christian. Be happy that you come from a Jew. Because Gd might love you too. Because you come from a Jew. Sing along, even if you're Muslim. Be happy that you believe in one Gd too. Because Gd might love you too. If you know a Jew..." Peace was the message, and the few sitting there turned into lovers of all. Not lovers of terrorists. Lovers of people. Gd might love them too now.
And they all sung and clapped for me. Everybody except for the Zombie and her friends. They were outside crying that Jews are allowed to sing. In solidarity of all humans, they wanted the Jew out. She wanted to get rid of the Israeli.
In her defense, I was occupying a seat at the bar.

Notes
When I got back from the bathroom, I didn't drink my Diet Coke. I am aware of what story time can do to your drink when you're wearing a Kippah.
I did introduce my songs of peace with, "I will not create any new definitions of genocide. Nor will I talk about genocide. Such as the Armenian genocide, perpetrated by the Young Turks." I am guessing she got her story from story time with Cenk Uygur of The Young Turks. I had one of those moments of political brilliance and little knowledge. You can share that with your friends.

Postscript About the Kippah
The Kippah is a real buzz killer. There was somebody sitting there with a Yarmulke, killing the performance. It bothered them so much that, because of Israel, they couldn't defile him and burn him at a bar in Buffalo.
If the bouncer was doing his job, he would've kicked out the Kippah. Yarmulkes are loud. They yell, “I am still here.” And that is offensive to anti-Semites.

Now I know why I wear a Kippah. And that is to piss people off.

It was the young man's engagement party. We'll call him Shmuel Baruch. Well, Shmuel Baruch was very nervous. He had impressed the young woman, but he had not impressed the rabbis yet. None of them agreed to marry him.
At an engagement party (we'll call it a Vort, a LChaim, a Tichel party- anything to get more gifts), there were many rabbis. Why so many rabbis were there is a question people are still asking. The Shidduch was already made. They already knew he was Jewish. It was too late to change the thing. But, you never know what can happen once community gets involved in a marriage.

The Chatan, groom, got up to give a speech and quoted a Minchat Chinuch. He didn't have any original ideas, so he quoted Rabbi Yosef Ben Moshe Babad. We know him as the Minchat Chinuch, because by the time you finish saying his name, people are asking if the guy finished the Dvar Torah yet.
In the middle of the speech, a commotion came from the rabbis' table. It wasn't a sermon. You can't talk during a sermon. You can talk during a Dvar Torah given by anybody that isn't a rabbi. Halacha. I'm assuming.
One rabbi was telling the others that he's never seen that Minchat Chinuch. So they all started mocking the Chatan. I was impressed the Chatan was able to quote a Minchat Chinuch. Forget about whether it exists or not. The fact that he quoted the Minchat Chinuch is impressive. The rabbis should've been commotioning about that. But instead they mocked, "Look at the guy misquoting the Minchat Chinuch. He couldn't even misquote a Sugiah from the Gemara. Pathetic. My son-in-law misquotes Tosfos."

​The commotion died down and the Chatan finished his Dvar Torah. I thought he was done when he returned to his speech and went on to tell everybody the name of the author of the Minchat Chinuch.
I should note, he was a religious Chatan, a Frum groom. He was a Chussan.

Rabbi Elyashiv saw this and made it a point to check into it, as the Chussan was correct. He was quoting the Minchat Chinuch correctly, though it wasn't a Gemara. It had Gemara in it, but it wasn't Gemara. Rav Elyashiv realized that negative thoughts can sit there and simmer, even if they're not true. Which is why people still think it's a good idea to serve black and white cookies instead of chocolate peanut butter squares.
Rabbi Elyashiv asked where the father-in-law to be is in the mornings. It turns out the father-in-law goes to the Mikvah every morning at 4am, to wash himself off of the contamination of a son-in-law. Rav Elyashiv said, "Convenient. 4am is perfect. I'll be there. 4am at the Mikvah." Apparently, there is no Minchat Chinuch about that.
It turns out 4am is Rabbi Elyashiv preferred time for meetings.

To ensure the father-in-law didn't have time to think about this foolish son-in-law to be, Rabbi Elyashiv was at the Mikvah at 4am. The father-in-law was listening to Rabbi Elyashiv. You listen to a rabbi when he meets you at the Mikvah. It's a very awkward situation. You're trying to dunk and they're not even handing you a towel. You try to make it out out of there. You sit there and listen to what the guy has to say.

Rabbi Elyashiv gave the father-in-law a package. Inside was an old Minchat Chinuch. Rabbi Elyashiv didn't have the money for a new one. He was supporting a Beit Midrash, and all of his time he could've spent focusing on the stock market, people were asking him Halachik questions. The price of being a Gadol HaDor. Very expensive, and you're broke. Turns out people don't pay for you to answer their questions.
Rabbi Elyashiv turned to the page and pointed, "This is the Minchat Chinuch your son-in-law quoted last night." It might have been a different one. The father-in-law was spacing out the whole time the Chussan was talking, trying to figure out why his daughter wasn't marrying the rich one, the one was carrying his own new Minchat Chinuch.

Negative thoughts develop. even if they're not true. By jumping on the issue right away and meeting the father-in-law at the Mikvah at 4am, Rabbi Elyashiv saved the son-in-law from negative thoughts developing about him by his father-in-law. Thoughts that would've been much worse if the son-in-law had shown up at 4:15am to take a dunk in the Mikvah.
When the father-in-law now thinks of his son-in-law, he thinks the guy is a Yutz who can't make a living.

Lessons of What Followed
As we learn from the rabbis, demeaning people is wrong, unless if you're mocking somebody for not knowing Torah.
You don't let negative feelings simmer. You don't let Lashon Hara fly around. That's a different story about ripping a pillow and letting the feathers fly all over to teach somebody that you can repent for Lashon Hara by littering. Ripping up pillows and throwing trash on the street does not stop Lashon Hara from spreading. The lesson here is, you don't let people sit on bad thoughts of others. It creates a mindset you can't take back. Nothing to do with bedding.

More Lessons
Don't talk at your engagement party. You already got the girl. You don't have to prove anything anymore.
Never talk in front of rabbis. When there are rabbis at your party, let them speak. Otherwise, they're going to interrupt you.
Sit the rabbis with their congregants. They won't want to talk. If they talk, the congregants will fall asleep.
The true tragedy of this whole event is, that nobody talks about, they only had one platter of chocolate peanut butter squares at the engagement party. They were gone in a minute. It turns out the rabbis were talking about their disappointment in having to eat black and white cookies. They were mocking the assortment of pastry.

Final Lesson
If you ever have something important to tell somebody, say it to them at the Mikvah at 4am.

Epilogue
And since then, stories of inspiration have been told about Chatans to many single people. These include inspirational stories of the eighty-year-old who still got married. Told to a twenty-five-year-old, to instill hope in the young soul, letting him know he'll be single for another fifty-five years.
The rabbi still has not seen that Minchat Chinuch. It turns out he doesn't learn Sefer HaChinuch either.
Why didn't Rav Elyashiv correct the rabbi there, when the Chatan was giving the Dvar Torah? Because he wasn't at the Mikvah. You don't correct people who are fully dressed.

***I probably got the story wrong. See Living Chessed (p.28-29) by R' Avrohom Asher Makovsky who hopefully recounts the story correctly.

July 4th got me thinking about America and food. Waking up gets me thinking about food. Let’s talk about food. Other than Kiddish, nothing is more American than eating massive quantities of food as fast as you can. For that, I thank America.
It was right before I moved to Israel, that I had the honor of competing in the Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest. Known to many as the Super Bowl of Eating, I always wanted to be a professional athlete. The one thing holding me back was my athletic abilities. Then I heard about Nathan’s contest, and I knew I had found my sport.
Here is the in-depth story, a very long story, an epic of passion, my story of competing as possibly the only Shomer Shabbat person ever in the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Competition. It all happened in LA.
 
The Competitor
It was around twenty-five years ago when the only kosher Nathan’s at the time was in Los Angeles. The competitor and proud Jew I am, I showed up ready to eat.
This was in LA. Not Yerushalayim. The Nathan’s in Jerusalem closed down, because they had the competition in Jerusalem and the whole city showed up for free frankfurters. Jerusalemites never had a high-class eating competition and they understood competition to mean on the house. Sometimes things get mistranslated in language. After three dogs, the local Jerusalem folk had the chutzpah to complain, ‘Stop, I’m already full… can you bag the rest, to go?... I’ll eat them later.’ Some even complained that they had the gall to bring out the food and to not offer them a seat and some sides. (Some of the closing of Nathan's in Jerusalem story, may not be true. But the story of David competing in the Nathan's competition, in LA, is.)
They didn’t just take anybody for the contest. I had to do well at the eating combine. It was a serious competition, and I had to pass the weigh in. At the time, I was well over two-hundred pounds and I was able to fit into an XXL shirt with no problem. I was accepted. They were worried, as I was forty-five pounds lighter than the closest competitor. And that was a high school girl. I had to. Thus, the story of David and Goliath. Or, David and Some Bikers.
 
Bigger Men
I was competing against bigger men, but I have taken down tougher men and women on the way to the choolante at Shabbat Kiddish. These men were not Sadie or Ethel. I was not frightened. Nothing was going to get in my way. I claimed my spot at the table, planted my feet and did not move; the same way I had done so many times while other famished people were trying to get to the herring after Shabbat services.

Ray 'The Bison' Meduna
Ray 'The Bison,' a man ranked number twelve eater in the world, due to his powerful jaws and lungs; even as an amateur, he claimed fame as the Texas State Kolache Sweet Dough Eating Champion. If they were kosher, he might have taken second. As I learned, Kolache is not a Jewish name. It's a pastry of sorts.
I went up against Ray ‘The Bison’ Meduna. ‘The Bison.’ A man that could eat people if he chose to not be livestock. How can I compete? I was going against a beast. I’m not a rodeo clown. I don’t go up against bulls, bison. I have never went up against cattle. The strength it took for me to go up against him. A Talmid Chacham like myself to muster the power to eat?!
Note: Never say 'muster' in a hot dog eating contest. They end up not hearing you correctly and you're stuck with a jar of dijonnaise.

How to Compete with a Bison - Get a Nickname
I had to use tact. I tried psyching him out. I went up to his face, 'I am David "The Mensch" Kilimnick and I eat hot dogs with a fork, because I am a mensch. I don’t do Achilas Gasa (disgusting glutton eating), unless if there is a chance to win cash. Eating like an animal is forbidden.’
Nicknames are very important in the sport of competitive eating. There was ‘The Fireball.' There was ‘The Hornet’s nest,’ who people stayed away from, as he brought stinging animals with him. I believe he took his nickname a bit too far, with a nest as his mascot. But you knew ‘The Bison’ was scary, because he was willing to name himself something you eat as well, and the competitors do get hungry very quickly. When you can take down forty hot dogs at one sitting, you don't make for a good Shabbis dinner guest.
‘The Mensch’ nickname did not seem to intimidate 'The Bison.' He was not fazed by my antagonizing antics, as menacing as I was. ‘The Bison’ wasn’t competing for a place in heaven and he didn’t know Yiddish. The use of Jewish law and threatening him with inappropriate eating habits was not working.
He wasn’t concerned with Mitzvahs. He wasn’t a Jew who never ate at McDonald’s. He practiced there. He wasn’t playing for a fast-food meal that he never got. He didn't even worry about extra calories. He had a metabolism. He didn't have the Ashkenazi ancestry. He just ate and enjoyed. The movie Supersize Me, he thought that was an advertisement.
He then took the hot dog with his hand- Achilas Gasa. And I was worried.
So, I threw in a, 'You have bad Midot (character traits).' I might have went a bit overboard with the rebuke, but he was prepared. And he didn't understand what Midot means. Maybe I should try psyching him out next time with English.
He told me that he drank gallons of water the night before, just to extend his belly. I knew I was dealing with a superhuman. I can’t even drink a cup before I go to sleep. I’ll have to pee.

Doing it for Jewish Pride- The Kids
I had to muster. I was going up against people who never heard of Achilas Gasa. I had to find the strength from within. I have seen how much grass a bison can take down. I was once at a zoo and I saw a huge thing of hay. It was for one bison.
Whenever eating as much as you can, you have to think about who you are doing it for. Me? I am doing it for the children. The two Yeshiva boys who came out to see a Jewish hero. Two young growing lads who wanted to see what eating is like when your parents aren’t around.
I had to find strength. I looked to the book of Yehoshua, and I heard the words, 'Be strong and courageous.' So, I said, I am ready to eat.
Non-Jews think Jews can’t eat. They haven’t been to a Tisch. They thought I don’t have the makeup of an eater. They’ve never been to my parent’s house for Shabbis. They haven’t seen me at a wedding. Oh, I can eat. They haven’t seen me taking down sausages at a smorgasbord, placing myself right next to the waiter carrying the tray of pigs-in-a-blanket, at all times. Not easy, when they're moving around, trying to serve other people.

The Competition
I had a cause. I remembered why I was going to eat fifty hot dogs. I remembered who I was. I remembered the lessons I learned at Shabbis Kiddish. I was a hero. A Jewish Hero. For these kids, I was no longer an underdog. I was an inspiration. I was the ‘Mensch.' It really gets to your ego when you're an athlete and you have a nickname.

Start of Competitive Eating
After trash talking the competition, Jewish Style, I was neck and neck with Ray ‘The Bison’ Meduna on the first four hot dogs. I could see Jewish pride on the two Yeshiva boys’ faces, gazing at the competition; reminiscent of Jews watching Sandy Koufax play baseball for the LA Dodgers in the 1960s. The resemblance was uncanny. I saw a future of young Jewish boys, full of newfound inspiration, thinking they too could be an athlete and eat like a mensch; knowing they too could fulfil their athletic dreams with saturated fats. I pride myself on being an inspiration.
‘The Bison’ and myself neck and neck, as the Yeshiva boys and crowd were cheering, ‘Mensch! Mensch! Mensch! Mensch! Mensch!’ Four hot dogs against four hot dogs, the first minute down, and then he kept on eating. Ray must’ve been trying to prove something. That was too much already. I was full. I needed a little schnapps.
The cheers kept on going, ‘Mensch! Mensch! Mensch! Mensch! Mensch!’ One biker was taking down dog number twenty-four. He heard them chanting, 'Munch! Munch! Munch!'
I kept on going for those kids. I was deflated when I heard twenty-four hot dogs, but I kept going for the Bachurs. A true Tzadik works with what he has, and I had heartburn.
 
It Was Rigged Against Jews
There is no place for a religious Jew in competitive eating. They said, 'On your marks, get set, go.' I turned to the announcer as he said the word ‘go’ and asked, 'Where is the washing station?' I had to do Nitilat Yadaim (pre-meal hand washing). I had to wash my hands before I eat bread. You have your pre-competitive eating rituals, I have mine. The competition included bread. You drink water to prepare, I pray to Gd that I won't puke. Not fair.
I didn’t want to sin by not washing my hands and Achilah Gasa. What was I to do? Wash and eat a little bread beforehand? Filling up on carbs, before the competition?

If You Compete, You Are A Winner - The Lesson
Eating is about competition. As seen at Kiddish, where I have learned so much about ensuring other people don't get food, only the strong survive.
What made me a winner, you ask. It was probably the way I scarfed down those first four dogs in record time, after I washed, to catch up to the competition. Winners don't complain about referees. They stopped me from using my elbows, used for keeping the other competitors away from the food; a technique developed at Kiddish, based on Fran Schwartz’s choolante approach. At the end of the eight minutes, I had taken down a good nine hot dogs. I was a winner after all. It was a decent lunch.
The competition didn’t include mayonnaise and chili, but I requested the toppings. If I was there already, I was going to get the works. It was a good spread. They said that it was the first time on American soil that anybody packed up the food and asked for a to go bag at the Nathan’s Contest. They said it reminded them of the competition they hosted in Jerusalem.

I am a Hero if that is the Ending
Did I ruin a couple of Yeshiva boys’ dreams, skipping class that day?! I might have. Even so, they learned a little Torah as they heard me telling Ray ‘The Bison’ Meduna about Achilat Gasa. Maybe they are rabbis now, out there telling their students about a great Jewish legend who competed in the hardest of circumstances and washed his hands, like Sandy Koufax. Maybe they're playing baseball. Maybe they're bowling. Whatever they are doing, the story of inspiration lives on with those two kids who flunked out of Yeshiva.
One thing is for sure. Whatever they are doing, they will never let being overweight get in their way.
David ‘The Mensch’ lost the battle to ‘The Bison’ that day. If my opponent had been Goliath, I might have won. Nothing in the Bible says that Goliath was able to eat thirty-five dogs in one sitting, in eight minutes, with buns.

As I was carried off the stage. I couldn’t move. I was full. I had eaten too much. Being carried that day, I could still hear them cheering, 'Mensch! Mensch! Mensch! Mensch!' It turned out that Nathan's wanted back the hot dogs I took.

That was the end of my career. I realized that competitive eating was not for me. With my Ashkenaz genes I would've got real heavy.

Postscript
I didn’t finish last. For those kids, I was first.
There was a twelve-year-old girl next to me. She was out real quick. After the third dog, she said she felt bloated. I understood her.

I believe some of those men got sick that day. In fairness, they brought out those trays. Huge trays of dogs. I didn't know who how many people they were thinking were going to show. There were only six of us. I don't know why eight industrial size trays were necessary. They couldn’t have cooked all of these hot dogs right. This all had me worried. I didn’t want to get salmonella.
I had a great effect on the future of competitive eating. Never before had competitors requested iced tea. It was always water. Now, the professional eaters enjoy their forty dogs with mayonnaise and a cold refreshing soft drink to wash it all down.

No elbows were allowed. That was not fair. You couldn't hit. My Kiddish table training would've given me the advantage. If violence was allowed, I believe I would've controlled at least three of the industrial trays.
If I was able to hit, and there was somebody walking around with the hot dog trays, I would've had a chance.
The point of the story: I would not have lost in Israel. My competition would have also gotten up to wash.
 
There is no more Kosher Nathan’s in LA. Was it me and the tray of dogs I took home? Maybe the other Jews caught on the next year and went for the free Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Luncheon.
 
We are working on a Jewish food eating competition. It will come as soon as we can afford all the to go bags.

To this day, people ask, ‘What’s the reason why David stopped eating?' I was full.

In the early 1800s, approximately the year 1828, in the afternoon of March 14th. It was a Thursday and it was approximately 3:42. It took place right outside the shteibel of Kotzk. We are not sure which stones of the walkway. From the eyewitness, it seems to have a been the eighteenth stone. That is when the story took place. But we are not sure.
A congregant comes to the Rabbi of Kotzk and tells him of this miracle worker who knows the secret of making robots. In the eighteen hundreds that consisted of paper mache.
The Rabbi of Kotzk responded, 'That is nothing. Can he make a Chasid?!'

Lessons of What Followed
We learn from here that congregants are annoying. They won't even allow you to walk into the shul before harassing you with questions.

The Rebbe tried building a Chasid factory. Many Chasidim protested, as they were worried they would not get the rebbe's attention once the Rebbe finally had Chasidim that listened to him. Truth is the miracle worker only knew how to make robotic arms that welded. The congregant left that piece of information out. Which is why you should never listen to congregants.
The miracle engineer tried making Chasidim and he ended up with a design that was the prototype for R2-D2. The Rebbe was very happy until they realized that he talked. And the miracle worker told nobody the secret.
Some say the Rebbe of Kotzk wanted to show his knowledge of engineering. To make a Chasid is a very technical endeavor. You have to be technologically literate to do it. To produce a soul is not easy. You need the right metals and tools.

It was a very hard story to tell, as nobody could say 'Kotzk' without feeling like they said it wrong. Arguments were had as to whether this was a story or a quote. To this day, in the 2023, the argument of story or quote continues.
At least now we know where Chasidim come from. Somebody is making them with the help of Gd. A little Dvar Torah you can share at a Shabbat meal, from the Kibbitzer magazine.

Tales of The Hasidim- Book 2: The Later Masters by Martin Buber (p.285)

A Magid came to the Gaon Rabbi Meir of Tiktin, whom the Baal Shem Tov said was worthy of having the Holy Spirit rest on him as it did with Moshe, but the generation wasn't worthy. I think it had to do with Tiktin. If you've ever been to Tiktin you would understand. Tiktinites really kill your spirit. Never had a decent football team. Tiktiners are always down on themselves.
The Magid asked permission to lecture Rabbi Meir's congregation. Rabbi Meir said yes. He didn't think the Magid was going to go on for hours. He thought it would be a fifteen minute speech about how big a Sukkah should be. He figured Magids know that congregants complain about long sermons whenever they have a chance.

The Magid spoke for hours condemning the people. If you'd ever been to Tiktin you would understand. These people deserved it. They were dishonest. They barely learned Torah. And the sins went on. The Tiknites even spoke Lashon Hara about each other, as they knew how annoying Tiktinites are.
The people of Tiktin stuck around for the speech. They felt so good that a Magid finally noticed them. For years, they've been working so hard on not keeping the laws of Shabbis, and they finally got the credit for it.
He didn't stop rebuking the community. The Magid kept on going. He was on a role. He was in the zone of letting people know they had no hope and how annoying they are. It's a lot of fun to go into a community and tell them how bad they are. He even went off on one guy's hairdo. 'Look at that thing. Flying all over. Does he ever shower?'
​Yona didn't want to do it, but that's because he was afraid the people of Ninveh would kill him. The Constitution and modern law don't allow people to kill the speaker. 

The Gaon heard this rebuke and started crying. The Magid thought it was because he spoke too long. He came to Rabbi Meir after the lecture and asked what he thought. A little Seichel would've gone a long way here. You don't ask somebody who's crying what they think. It's like a barber seeing you cry at the end of a real bad haircut and asking, 'You like it?'

The Gaon admitted that the criticism was deserved. He had neighbors in Tiktin too. He knows about the Tiktiners and their reputation. And then the annoying ones that tiktin heir friends. The Gaon Rabbi Meir continued, 'I know I sinned and done many bad deeds, but why did you have to rebuke me in public? Couldn't you have pulled me aside and told me privately, and not embarrassed me?'

The Magid said, 'Does the master think I rebuked him? I didn't. I rebuked the community. I would never talk like this to a holy saint. But the community. Have you seen the Tiktinites? All disheveled. Get a decent suit for crying out loud.'
It was confusing, as the Magid referred to the Gaon in third person. If he would've just referred to Rabbi Meir as Rabbi Meir, that would've made it easy. The Gaon probably thought that when he said 'the people of the community' that he was talked about the Gaon. This is where talking out of respect, in third person, gets confusing.

The Gaon replied, 'Don't lie. The congregation as a whole is pure from sin.' I don't think he ever met the members of my shul. The Gaon continued, 'The nation of Israel is holy. Thus, you must have been referring to me. I don't mind being reprimanded, but not in public. You shouldn't have put me to shame in front of everybody.'
The Magid tried explaining that the talk of the general public was not about the Gaon in third person. But he explained that to Rabbi Meir in third person, which made it all the more confusing.
The story continues where the Magid didn't stop defending his argument.
'You can see. They are not. Look at the back row. Shlomi is picking his nose right now. They are not perfect.' 

Lessons of What Followed
Never hang out with Tiktiners. They are troublemakers. And never tiktin your friend. That's not right.

The Magid advised the Gaon to calm down lest he have a heart attack. He told the Gaon that his congregation should pay him, and he should stop thinking about them.
Rabbis felt so bad upon hearing the story that they decided to not take blame for their communities' follies anymore. They were sick of getting greys at twenty-five. Now rabbis only take credit for their congregants' accomplishments. When a congregant makes a decent Kugel, the rabbi takes credit for being Mikarev them (bringing them closer to Torah).

Musar (moral rebuke) became a huge part of the Jewish community. And the Gaon kept on taking the blame for his community. And the Titkiners never learned their lesson.
The people of Tiktin were still annoying. For years, they were annoying.

When learning Devarim, Rabbi Meir realized that the problem was that the Magid stole his joy of putting down his own congregation. Moshe would've never let somebody else rebuke his people. From then on Rabbi Meir let his congregation know that they are the problem. And the community rabbis as a profession was developed.
And now, to get back at their congregants for being annoying sinners, rabbis give very long sermons.

***Not sure if that's exactly what happened. See Tales of Our Gaonim by Rabbi Sholom Klass page 187 to blame them.

The Chofetz Chaim (Rav Yisrael Meir Kagan) was taking a train back to Radin. I believe it was Radin, as that's where he lived, and had his Yeshiva. None of his Talmidim (students) would drive him. Respecting your rabbi has limits. The roads in Poland aren't paved very well. They asked who would escort their rabbi, around the Yeshiva, and nobody showed up to Shiur that day.

This Jewish guy was sitting next to him on the train. Jews like to sit next to Jews on long trips. It gives a decent amount of time to figure out if they know the same people you know.
This guy visiting Radin jumps right to the Chofetz Chaim. Everybody in Radin knows the Chofetz Chaim. Every Jew religious Jew in the world knows the Chofetz Chaim. If you're going to call that Jewish geography, that's pathetic.

He starts talking to the Chofetz Chaim, not knowing it is he, the Chofetz Chaim. You can't get any privacy on the train. The Jews will find you. The Chofetz Chaim is trying to get some rest, and now he's got to listen to this guy's thoughts on the deli in Lvov. The Chofetz Chaim is thinking, 'Even when they don't know I'm the Chofetz Chaim, they still ask me questions. I can't get away from this. I could be a tailor and they would bother me.'

The guy on the train starts saying how he's going to meet the great Tzadik of Radin, the Chofetz Chaim. If he would've read Shmirat HaLashon, the Chofetz Chaim's book on not speaking Lashon Hara (bad about people), he would know that was Avak Lashon Hara. So, he's going to meet the Chofetz Chaim, without learning his work. You go to meet Stephen King, you read The Shining.
The Chofetz Chaim responded, 'Why are going there? He's not that great. He's just a simple Jew.' And the Jewish guy got angry, started the cursing the Chofetz Chaim and hit him.

He then came to visit the Chofetz Chaim in his house, and he was embarrassed. The Chofetz Chaim is sitting there with a shiner. He's now asking himself, 'How shall I ask the Chofetz Chaim for blessings and advice about having kids? I clocked him pretty good.' He didn't know what to do. He continued asking himself, 'How did I not realize it's you, the Chofetz Chaim... Now that I see his right side, it's him.'
The man asked for forgiveness, and the Chofetz Chaim said that he needn't ask for forgiveness. The Chofetz Chaim was thankful he got hit. He had written an entire book about not speaking Lashon Hara, and he missed the law of not speaking Lashon Hara about oneself. 
And the guy offered to hit the Chofetz Chaim again.

And the Chofetz Chaim learned you can't talk to anybody. You can't say anything to people without offending them, even if it's about yourself. From then on, he was afraid to crack jokes. This was before the Will Smith incident.
From then on, The Chofetz Chaim then had to say he was great. But he didn't. As he knows that that's Avak Lashon Hara about yourself.

Lessons of What Followed
The Chofetz Chaim's students realized it was time for a picture of the Chofetz Chaim to get out. So, they had him pose with a big Kippah.
If they had put out a decent photo of the Chofetz Chaim, this whole incident could've been avoided.

All simple Jews were offended. Till now, they thought it was an honor to be a Jew. As they learned from the story, being a Jew is not a very important thing.

The Chofetz Chaim should've smacked him for speaking Avak Lashon Hara.
The real lesson is to never speak about yourself in third person. What's amazing is 
that when the Rebbe of Lublin said he wasn't that great, he was praised. The Chofetz Chaim gets pummeled. It goes to show how times change.
Thanks to this guy, now the Chofetz Chaim had to write another book.

We don't know where the Chofetz Chaim was traveling from. It was definitely a violent area.
After leaving town, the guy spread word about how the Chofetz Chaim can take a hit. Word spread and the Chofetz Chaim got a reputation, and nobody messed with him anymore.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe also said one shouldn't speak Lashon Hara about themselves, but he didn't have to take a hit for it.

The Chofetz Chaim left the guy's name out of the story, as that would be Lashon Hara. And thus, we have many beautiful Jewish stories that are never told. When it comes to Tziporah and Moshe, they talk about them. But that's it. And I believe there's a leniency somewhere to talk Lashon Hara about your rabbi, as that's a tradition in all Jewish communities.
 
Please note that we feel bad telling this story, as it might be Lashon Hara.

***See Alei Tamar on the Yerushalmi. If I got the story wrong, you should blame Rav Yisachar Tamar Alav HaShalom.

The Rebbe of Lublin was a great man. That's how he got the name 'The Rebbe of Lublin.' When they know you as your city. When you can claim the whole city. That is when you're great. He was also known as the Seer of Lublin. It depends on what crowd we're talking about. His students knew him as the Rebbe, and those who needed advice on the stock market knew him as the Seer.
When you're the name of your city, you've made it. And then to proceed your name with 'The,' that's the tops. Yaakov Yitzchak HaLevi Horowitz doesn't sound like the Rebbe of Lublin. People might've remembered he was a Levite, but that's about it. If they called him The Rav Yaakov Yitzchak, there is room for argument.
Your goal as a rabbi should be to have the city in your name. If you're from Poughkeepsie, you want to be known as the Poughkeepsie Rebbe. You don't want to be known as Frank. You don't want to be Rabbi Frank. If you're known as Rabbi Frank by the end of your career, you've done very little. Everybody knows it. If you did something, you would be the Rebbe of Poughkeepsie. If you're a big rebbe, you either have the name of a town or an acronym. For topper, you add in 'The.'
The Rebbe of Lublin made it. He knew it. He had thousands of chasidim. Having a name of a town as part of your name can get to you. It can really work up the ego. Yet, the rebbe was humble.

The Story
Upon seeing the Rebbe of Lublin with so many followers, another rabbi asked him, 'Why do you allow for this? So many chasidim claiming you a their rebbe, when you admit you're not worthy of this honor.'
Choosing a leader can be very hard. Should we give the honor of leadership to somebody who says they're the best? I don't know. Maybe we should have rabbis strutting up to the lectern for their sermons, turning to everybody, 'That's right. I'm your rabbi. I'm here. I'm the best. Show me the love. Shout out to my chasidim. I'm the man. Who's the man? Your rabbi.'
I don't remember the rabbi who suggested the Rebbe lose his followers. It may have been Rav Binyamin, Rav Menachem, Rav Berman. All I know is there was no city in his name. Nonetheless, the Rebbe of Lublin listened to him.

The Rebbe of Lublin was in agreement, 'What should I do?'
The rabbi replied, 'Go up to give a sermon and announce you don't deserve to be their rebbe.' So, the Rebbe got up and told everybody he's not worthy. He said he was just an ordinary Jew and no reason for him to be the one to bless people. And murmurs of more piety and humility came.
Everybody was amazed at how big of a Tzadik he was, for saying he wasn't a Tzadik. Roars of adoration throughout the community were abundant, 'Only a Tzadik can do that. What piety!' 'Only a Tzadik would say he's not a Tzadik.' 'It takes a righteous person to let everybody know they're not righteous.'
The Rebbe of Lublin did not know what to do. He was trying to get out of people coming to him constantly to get Brachas. He was sick of every single person coming to him with every question. Why did he have to answer questions about real estate? He was annoyed. He wanted to drop the whole Seer of Lublin thing. His reputation was cutting into his relaxation time. He couldn't go to the bathhouse without people asking him for Shidduch ideas and if their silverware was good enough for meat.

Pinchas, a local townsman, learning from the lesson of the Rebbe of Lublin, said he wasn't a Tzadik. And all of the people of Lublin reprimanded Pinchas, 'We know you're not. Why such an idiot would say he's not a Tzadik is beyond us.'

The other rabbi saw the response of the Rebbe's followers and was shocked by the unexpected result of more adoration. So, he told the Rebbe of Lublin to say he's a Tzadik.
The Rebbe told him, 'I can't do that. I cannot lie. When you told me to tell them I am not a Tzadik, I did it. When you wanted me to claim that I was not deserving of this honor, as I am a simple Jew, I agreed. However. Now you want me to lie and say I'm a Tzadik. I cannot do that.'
And the rabbi was stuck. And the Rebbe of Lublin realized the rabbi was yet another person in the town asking him to do something. As the rebbe with the name of a town, everybody comes to you with questions.

Lessons of What Followed
The Rebbe of Lublin was later found to be not happy with his chasidim, knowing that they didn't trust him.

The rabbi who was giving the Rebbe of Lublin this advice was an extremely humble rav. He was so humble, his chasidim consisted of two. When he saw the response of the Rebbe of Lublin, he decided to tell his pupils that he was a great Tzadik. And his chasidim left him. 
His pupils ran away saying, 'We thought our rabbi was full of humility, when he said he was humble.' The rabbi ran after them saying that he was joking. It turns out that his chasidim didn't get sarcasm, like those of the Rebbe of Lublin.
 
This whole episode turned out to be a great lesson to the rebbe’s followers. When you're a showoff, people hate you. When you're humble, you can be great. People respect you, call you the best. If you want everybody to think you're amazing, be humble. And all of the chasidim became very humble. And they got into many fights over who is humbler. Yankel proclaimed, 'I am the humblest.'
And they knew they were Tzadiks. There is no feeling like going home being able to look in the mirror, knowing you're righteous and saying to yourself 'I'm humble.'
Learning from the Rebbe of Lubin, rabbis around the world started saying 'I am a nothing.' I heard a story of a rabbi who went up to the ark on Yom Kippur. He goes up kisses the curtain and cries out, 'God. I am a nothing.' The Chazin, cantor, upon seeing this, goes up to the ark and wails, 'Before you God, I am nothing. I am nothing in this world.' Then the Gabai, sexton, goes to the ark and cries out, 'Before you God. I am nothing. I am a total nothing. A nothing.' The Chazin, turns to the rabbi upon seeing this, and pointing to the Gabai he mocks, 'Look who thinks he's a nothing.'

When the Rebbe of Lublin saw the other rabbi talent out there, he decided that it wasn't a bad idea that the chasidim were following him.
As the Seer of Lublin, the Rebbe knew that if he said he wasn't great, he would score huge points with his chasidim. It was an amazing move. He came out on top, and scored more chasidim.

The Chafetz Chaim took this lesson to heart, and when a guy said the Chafetz Chaim was a great man, the Chafetz Chaim said he isn’t. And the Chafetz Chaim got smacked.

***See Lilmod uLilamed, the section on VaYishlach. If I got the story wrong, it's their fault.

​Not a rebbe of Torah, but Itzhak Perlman is a rebbe of violin. We learn lessons from Itzhak Perlman's violin playing. It's like learning Torah, without Torah. You get to create the moral Torah lesson, even if it's not Torah. Kind of like a sermon.

This is about the famous show where Itzhak Perlman had a string pop on him in the middle of a performance. He should've fired the string guy. He didn't. That's the first lesson I learned from the story. Don't hold your staff accountable, and they will stick around.
People have asked me, 'Was he doing staccato?' 'Was he smacking the thing with the horse hair bow?' 'Was he angry at the conductor, and did he try hit him with the instrument?" All I know is a string popped. That's the story. That's what he's known for. I heard he is good at violin too. But he's known for the string.

Side Note that Adds to the Story: To see Itzhak Perlman walk on stage is a spectacle. He was stricken with polio as a child and walks on stage with leg braces and crutches. Seeing him walk across the stage with calculated steps is a sight. Some people go to his show just to see that. In the lobby, you can hear them, 'Paid two-hundred dollars. What a walk?! Amazing.'
That night, nobody cared about overcoming polio, and becoming one of the greatest violinists the world has seen. There was a broken string. Broken strings are a true sight. When they pop. Wow. That's inspiration.

The string popped. I don't know which string it was. I am guessing it was the E. You say hello to that string and it pops.
He didn't leave the stage and nobody brought him another string. At that point, he should've fired the whole crew. They all saw it, and just stood there. 
After a brief moment, he continued playing. He realized nobody was going to help him. They all saw him walking on stage, and yet, nobody did anything. After noticing that nobody was going to help, and it was going to take a good half hour to get off the stage, to fix his violin, he said, 'The hell with it. I'm going to just continue the thing.' He knew it wasn't time for the intermission yet, and if he got off the stage the audience would complain and Kvetch the whole night. So, he went on.
The orchestra did nothing. They just stood there and stared at him. They were all trying to figure out if he would go all the way back off the stage. As one of the viola players said, 'We waited a sonata for him to get to his seat. Is he going to make us wait again?!' Viola players are very snobby. They think they're better, because they have bigger instruments. To quote, 'My violin is bigger, and thus I am better.' As the viola players took bets, Itzhak Perlman kept on playing.
All were amazed. His mother wasn't impressed. She was noted as saying, 'He still has to practice. He still doesn't know how to tune the thing right.'

It was to everyone’s amazement that Itzhak Perlman kept playing that violin, when a concerto cannot be played with only three strings. And all who were at that show were amazed, and wanted their money back.
The fact that Itzhak Perlman didn't know that a concerto needs four strings was very bothersome. One columnist let it be known, 'He's a professional. He should know that a concerto needs four strings.'
As the complaints came in, it turned out that many felt like they got ripped off, not being able to see Itzhak Perlman with a full violin. To quote, 'That was the most amazing show I've ever seen. It will be talked about for generations. Sermons will be given for generations about this inspirational performance. Great to be there. We loved it. We will never see a show this great again. Priceless. We want our money back. We paid for a four string violin performance.'

Back to what happened on the stage.
Itzhak Perlman continued that concert, thinking nobody would ask for money back. He played with more passion than ever. That's what anger can do. Nobody coming out and helping him, he was mad. A bunch of yutzes.
It was a show put on from the soul. He had to recompose the piece in his head, to make it all fit into three strings. Ever tried doing bar chords on a guitar? This was harder. He even had to retune strings in the middle, to make new sounds. The orchestra was trying to figure out what to do, as they had already tuned their instruments. The crowd loves hearing instruments being tuned; that's why I go to the orchestra. I love hearing them tune.
All with three strings, Itzhak Perlman put on a passionate and uplifting performance. Can you imagine if he played with that much passion on four strings. His mother went on, 'He should learn to play a four string violin.'

At the end of the show, to huge cheers, he said,  ‘You know, sometimes it is the artist’s task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left.' He should've continued, 'My staff that didn't help. They're all fired.'
And the audience members used that as an excuse to get their money back, pointing out that not everything was at the performance.

And rabbis have been giving sermons ever since.

Lessons of What Followed
People will never help you. No matter how bad you have it. They won't lift a finger. Not one person came to help him with the violin. In the whole theater, not one decent soul. I hope he didn't play that town again.
His mother continued, 'If he would put in that much effort with a four string violin he would be a something.'

Much of the audience said they didn't connect with his message. One woman in the back said, 'I'm not an artist. I work in the medical health field.' Another guy said, 'I play guitar. I don't play violin. I'm not an artist.' Another young lady said, 'I don't know.' She didn't finish college.
After the show, many said he's not an artist. He is a violinist. Since then, in his later years, he has made it a point to prove them wrong and has taken up painting, sculpting and graffiti.
Lesson: The only way people will pay for your art is when you're gone.

Since this inspirational performance, support for polio research has gone down. Support for violins and the needs of the Suzuki method has grown immensely. Much money has been raised for research to make the neck brace more comfortable for violinists. The head of the research center for softer violin neck holders is quoted as saying, 'This. The neck. The way you have to turn it and contort. This is an epidemic.' They went on to explain why violinists are always looking to the left, even at dinner parties.

Rabbis have been using this 'how much music you can still make with what you have left' since. It has especially inspired those Bar Mitzvah kids who mess up the Torah reading and their families, letting their parents know that this is what the Jewish people have left. As the rabbi of my shul said after Yankel read the Torah, 'We have to do the best we can with what we just saw. It won't be easy, but it's what our people have left.'
Quoted more than Moshe telling Paroh to let the Jews out, three sermons a year are based around this story in every congregation. What making music means? Nobody knows. Sermons are more meaningful when they're not understood. 

Without the broken string story Itzhak Perlman would be a nothing. Nobody cares about the violining. They especially don't care about overcoming polio. It's the string that popped.
I am changing this story to 'His String That Wasn't,' about a guitar player who ran on stage. That's more meaningful.

***To fact check the story, please see https://www.atime.org/chizuk/with-whats-left/

The Skeptical Litvak – They All Are
The rebbe didn't show up for Selichot prayers during the Ten Days of Repentance. The people of Nemirov asked, ‘Where is the Rebbe?’ And all the disciples now had to repent for speaking Lashon Hara. Speaking gossip is a sin. You shouldn’t ask such questions. It leads to gossip. But they did, as it was about the rebbe, and everybody talks about rabbis. People love to talk about rabbis. You see the rabbi at the restaurant and everybody’s talking about how he didn’t have enough intent with his blessing, and too little stuffed derma. 
Discussion continued and the Chasidim knew there is only one place their rebbe could be. In heaven.
A Litvak came to the town during this time of Selichot, early in the morning, and he noticed the rebbe's absence. The pupils of the Rebbe of Nemirov said, ‘Where is our Rebbe? He is in heaven.’ And the Litvak laughed. It was more of a guffaw. We all know Litvaks are very sarcastic. They’re straight and they have no creativity with their practice of Mitzvot. When was the last time a Litvak celebrated Shabbat by starting a bonfire, playing an electric guitar, throwing together some fireworks, and tanning a hide? No creativity.
 
Upon hearing that their rebbe was in heaven, the Litvak knew the rebbe was up to something. To quote the Litvak, ‘I have seen many people try to get out of Minyin. People love to skip Selichot. I’ve heard people were sick, with a cough. I’ve heard people had to go to work. They didn’t even have a job. I’ve even heard people say they had to watch their kids, when we had babysitting at the shul. But using heaven as an excuse to get out of services?!’
The Litvak laughed and reprimanded, ‘You fools. Your rebbe is not in heaven. Even Moshe, our great leader, didn't go up to heaven. It’s impossible.’ And the Litvak said, ‘I will find out.’ And he did.

Sleeping Under Somebody’s Bed is Not Comfortable – Even if They Are a Rebbe
That evening, the Litvak snuck into the rebbe's house and slept under his bed. The Litvak was scared. Of course, he was scared. It was even creepy back then to sleep under somebody's bed. But the Litvak did it.
I don’t suggest sleeping under anybody’s bed. There is no precedent to sleep under somebody’s bed, unless if you are their student. Then it makes sense. You learn their snoring patterns, and you can be a better disciple.
He wanted to see what the rebbe was up to. He had to get to the bottom of this skipping prayers racket the rebbe was running. And the Litvak was going to figure it out, by trespassing and hiding under the rebbe’s bed, and taking some of the rice cakes he found in the kitchen. It wasn’t easy. He couldn’t breathe normally or the rebbe would figure him out. He also couldn’t breathe normally, because of the dust under the rebbe’s bed. The rebbe wasn’t known for sweeping. They didn’t have Swiffers back then.
It was a hard night and the Litvak didn’t get much sleep. The rebbe even took a fly swatter and smacked him with it a few times, thinking his room was infested with loud bedbugs.
 
What Rebbes Do When They Skip Prayers and Selichot
The next morning, when all had left the house, the rebbe got up. ‘Ah Ha. The rebbe wakes up late. Everybody else was out of the house at 5:30am and the rebbe is only moving at 5:35am. A sloth,’ thought the Litvak, ‘I got him.’ Then, the rebbe put on peasant clothes, and took an ax and rope with him. The rebbe went to the forest and cut down a tree, then cut it into pieces and tied it in the rope. He was the only in shape rabbi I’ve ever heard of. I’ve never heard of a rabbi who does anything but go to the shvitz. Rabbis sit and sweat. They don’t exercise. Not the Rebbe of Nemirov. He exercises. Two hundred pushups every morning. The Litvak was lucky he skipped them that day.
Legend has it that no other rabbi could take the Rabbi of Nemirov in an arm wrestle. But that's a different story of inspiration. He competed in strong man competitions and lumberjack carries under the name Vlad.
The rebbe started dragging the wood. The Litvak was still there, following the rebbe. He was very good at stalking. He had done it before. If I recall correctly, there was another time the Litvak slept under a rabbi’s bed because he was interested in finding out what he wears under his Bekishe. What’s under the rebbe’s coat has always been an anomaly,
The Litvak was disturbed. Why did the rebbe need to start a wood business? Why are his disciples not paying him enough? Why do the rebbe’s students not sleep under his bed? Are they just not good pupils? Why is the rebbe killing the forest? There were many questions.
 
The rebbe dragged the wood to a poor women's house who was sick, and he knocked on the door. You don’t just enter a house, unannounced. She probably would’ve shot the rebbe.
This story is based on the Chasid's account. That student of the rebbe was following the Litvak. I can’t tell you what kind of house it was. You have to ask the Litvak. I believe it was wood. Might have been brick. Not a sturdy foundation. A very nice kitchen. Granite countertops. Granite was big in the 1800s.
The poor woman asked, ‘Who’s at my door.’ The Rebbe said, ‘Vassil.’ Vassil is not a Jewish name. Nobody names their kid Vassil. It hurts their chances at a good Shidduch.
She told the rebbe he can come in. The rebbe’s sale, posing as Vassil, was, ‘You don’t have money? You can repay me later. You believe in Gd, but you don’t believe that He will give you six kopeks?’
The rebbe wasn’t a very good businessman. He could’ve got more than six kopeks out of her. He could’ve told her that she didn’t have to pay him a thousand kopeks. But he didn’t. He missed the moment to make a bit. The Litvak however, learned a valuable lesson. The Litvak became very rich later in life, when he sold a house for eight million kopeks, by telling the guy that if he believes in Gd he should buy it. The guy purchasing the house only had a million kopeks. With newfound belief in Gd, due to the Litvak’s sales technique, the guy borrowed the rest from the bank. The guy lost the house when he couldn’t make the first payment. Thank Gd, the Litvak got top dollar on the deal,
 
What Happens in A Poor Women's House
The rebbe entered the poor women’s house. As the rebbe put the wood in the oven, he recited the first portion of Selichot in a groan. That’s the tradition. I know they do that at my shul. It’s early in the morning and you’re supposed to express how tired you are when repenting. If you show Gd how hard it is, and complain, He’s more merciful.
When the wood began to burn and it became bright, he recited the second portion of Selichot with more joy. When the fire was lit and ready, he recited the third portion and shut the oven.
Why the rebbe shut the stove, we don’t know. We hope the stove still made the room warm, even though he shut it.
The Litvak was amazed that the rebbe knew the Selichot by heart. And who could recite the Selichot so fast?! The rebbe himself had been skipping the prayers all this time.

The Litvak became a Chasid of the Rabbi of Nemirov. And every year, when they spoke of the rebbe ascending to heaven during the Days of Awe, the Litvak wouldn’t laugh anymore. The Litvak would say, 'If not higher.' And then he would tell everybody how the rebbe Davens too fast and had to work on his Kavanah.

Lessons of What Followed
The Litvak learned the lesson from the rebbe and stopped going to shul.
He started working as a laborer and never helped with Minyin again. The community wanted him to help with the quorum, but he said he can get closer to Gd by not showing up.
Years later, the Chasidim of the rebbe learned of his great Mitzvah. Once the story got out, they couldn't get a Minyin in Nemirov for Selichot anymore.
Many don’t know the truth behind the story. It was the rebbe’s morning workout. He had to get it out of the way, and he knew the Litvak was following him. He couldn’t just chop down a tree and leave it. The Litvak would know the rebbe was just trying to get jacked.
Why the rebbe didn't use his strongman name, 'Vlad,' we will never know.
The rebbe groaned when putting in the wood, for he killed his back carrying the bundles all the way to the sick woman’s house. The Litvak couldn't get a hint. The least the Litvak could’ve done is offer to help. If you’re stalking somebody already, you might as well help.
The rebbe was singing the Selichot more joyously once the oven was lit, as he wasn’t freezing anymore. The house was very cold. Being the proper guest the rebbe is, when he’s in the character of Vassil, he didn’t want to complain to the woman.
The poor woman tried finding Vassil to pay him the six kopeks. She wanted to pay him back so badly. Trying to pay back Vassil, she got caught in the cold and came down with pneumonia. If she would’ve known it was the rebbe, she would’ve been a healthier woman. She would’ve went to his house and even given a donation to the Yeshiva.
The Litvak couldn’t mock the rebbe anymore and he lost his sense of humor.
 
***For the story, also see I.L. Peretz’s Selected Stories

It's the new year and international travel is painful again. Quarantining can be very scary, if you have to do it alone. It's a nightmare, and I purposefully entered that nightmare when I flew back to Israel, knowing I would be put in a quarantine hotel for two weeks.
The quarantine is back, and I bring you my story. It is here to inspire you, and to let you know that you can visit Israel and make it through the quarantine, as long as you're fine with your vacation being spent in the hotel. Now, the quarantine is for seven days, and my story may mean very little to you. Even so, I shall take you into my little journey of how I made it through quarantine in Israel, with my fellow returnees to Zion.
 
I Was Scared
I was in solitary confinement in a five-star hotel with a bath.
 
A Corona Hotel
They call the hotel “Corona.” The hotel itself  had the virus. I didn’t know if I could touch the closet. Do the walls have the virus? Do I catch it from my bed? I decided it was safest to live out of my suitcase and sleep in my clothes.
 
Food Rations Don’t Make Jews Happy
I thought I was going to get the Israeli hotel breakfast buffet. I asked them. Then they dropped a bag outside my door. This was worse than being locked up in solitary. At least in solitary they slip the food through a window; you get a bit of service.
They should’ve never called that room service. Three square meals is not... Other people deciding what I should be eating hurts the hotel experience. I don’t want people deciding which cheese I should be eating. I need choices, and they didn't provide that at the corona buffet.
Yes. I complained to management. The same food every day isn’t the five star hotel experience I was expecting. Not having eight cheeses to choose from, and cereal dispensers, is not something I would have chosen. It was hard. I liked cottage cheese two days ago.
 
No Washing Machines
They turned me into a manual laborer. I was a slave to my dirty clothes, and I was not a good one. Maybe I don’t know how to twist enough. I smelled like Badin detergent suds for a week.
How Do You hand wash? I’ve seen washboards in bands. Other than using it to strum a spoon, I don’t know what that is supposed to be used for.

Why is the Army Here
Soldiers were working the concierge booth. I have to say, they know very little about what there is to do in Jerusalem, when you're quarantined. Their lack of knowledge regarding Jerusalem nightlife was bothersome. They should at least been able to tell me the coordinates.
It was scary coming out of my room and seeing the gun. I ran right back in, and that's where I spent the first three days.
 
A Shabbat Retreat Where You See People Less
On Shabbat, it’s a religious duty to quarantine together.
 
Lighting Candles is a Social Experience
As lighting Shabbat candles always do, they brought light to my darkness and people into my quarantine.
We lit candles at a big table in the lobby, as opposed to our rooms. The organizers of the quarantine experience felt that a fire is more dangerous than seeing somebody who you sat next to on the flight. I went to light Shabbat candles, and that was my first interaction with people that weren’t behind plexiglass, or with a gun. I was relieved to hear that they also don’t like cottage cheese anymore. I realized I’m not in this quarantine alone, and there are other people that have no idea how to ring out a shirt.
 
The Minyin
As I was lighting the candles, I heard about the Minyin, a community praying together in isolation. They said, 'You must stay out of your room to join us.' I said, 'Yes. If me leaving my room is a requirement, I will be there... I will be early.' I had never felt so thankful for ten men in my life. I let them know that I’m happy to join, as long as I didn’t have to hand wash their clothes.
The Chazan did not have a good voice. However, he had to wear a mask, and that helped.
 
Oneg – Delighting in Shabbat
One deed leads to another and we must share all of Shabbat in quarantine. You’re supposed to delight in Shabbat, and you do that with food. One quarantining congregant brought cake, cashews, peanuts, Coke, herring. One guy really enjoyed it. The first guy who took the cashews loved the experience. After he touched them, the cashews were his. He delighted more than the rest of us. As we learned, big bowls of food are not optimal for pandemics. 
When it came to the pound cake, I went in after the first guy. I wasn’t that scared. I had eaten too much cottage cheese to be scared. If I hadn’t caught corona by now, from the corona hotel bedding, I wasn’t going to catch it from a decent pound cake and a cold cup of Coke. In life, you have to be brave and take chances. And when it comes to a wet dense pound cake, those are the times.
How I ate with my mask on is a miracle one can only speak of.
 
Ingathering of the Exiles is Motivating
After Shabbat we had a big circle where everybody shared their story.
Stories of journeys from around the world were vast. One from Cape Town, one from Buenos Aires, one was from New York, one from Thailand, one from France. Each of us had our own journey back to Israel. Each expedition was more intriguing than the next. Some sat first class. Some sat economy. One even had somebody sitting next to them. A true journeyman. The most interesting story was given by the voyager from France who did not even get a kosher meal on her flight.
 
Chilonim Became Religious
Everybody became religious. Once the Chilonim, secular Jews, realized they can leave their rooms, they joined the Minyin. They were early. They were devout. They sat there praying, focused on the words of praise. In the end, the secular Israelis felt so comfortable that they also had no problem talking during the services.
This was the first time in my life that I saw so many people return in penitence. Chabad has been trying for years to put Tefillin on people. One week of quarantine is the best outreach I have ever seen. 
Religious relationships even developed around the hotel, where new Chiloni couples dated without touching, sitting six feet apart.
 
Stuff I am Left With
In quarantine, you learn something about yourself.
 
I learned that I am fine smelling like bath gel if that’s all I have to wash my clothes with. I don’t like cottage cheese anymore, but that may change in a day or two after I get out. I learned how to make going to the reception to pick up milk take twenty minutes, and how to keep a friend on the phone for forty-five minutes when they have to run. I learned that afternoon naps can last five hours, and touching cashews first during a pandemic is much smarter than touching peanuts. Cashews are more expensive; you want them for yourself. I learned that when it comes to leaving my room, I am extremely devout. I even show up two hours early to services. I learned that solitary confinement can be depressing without a Minyin.
 
Minyin saved me. Shabbat Saved me. Lighting candles saved me. The comradery that quarantining together as a religious nation allows for, saved the secular Israelis. 
Only in Israel do people share their quarantine with other people. Everything beautiful about living in Israel is seen in the quarantine hotel, how we isolate as a community next to one another. A nation reuniting in the hardest of times, distancing together in solitude with all of the people, praying right next to Jews from all over the world. When you’re together there is nothing to fear, other than the coronavirus.
Being quarantined in Israel was the greatest experience of my life. Book your ticket. Skip the Kotel and go to the Corona Hotel.

The Rebbe of Lublin was a great Rebbe, and he lived in Lublin. He did not live in Lvov. He lived in Lublin. They were thinking of calling him the Rebbe of Lvov, but he didn't live there, and he didn't even like visiting Lvov.
Every morning, he would sit at the head of his table and pray, 'H' I'm praying for my breakfast.' And at that moment, his servant would come out and bring him his breakfast. At that point, the Rebbe would say, 'H' thank you for my breakfast.' And the servant was bothered, as he knew he wasn't Gd. He had some friends that were pretentious and gaudy, who thought they were great, but he knew he wasn't Gd. He was bringing the rebbe his breakfast, not Gd.
The next day, as always, the Rebbe did the same, coming home, sitting in his seat and singing to Gd, 'H' I'm praying for my breakfast.' The servant then brought out the breakfast, and the Rebbe said, 'H' thank you for my breakfast.' And the servant went back to the kitchen, angry, wanting to yell, 'When will he learn my name?!! I've been working for him for years. I am not Gd. Does he not know where his breakfast comes from?' 
To note, saying 'servant' is OK. This is the 1800s. Being a servant was a good job.
The next day, the same thing happened, and the servant was angered that the Rebbe shows appreciation to Gd and not to him. The servant then came up with a scheme. He decided that he won't bring him breakfast the next morning. A better scheme would've been to bring the Rebbe bull's-eye eggs. The Rebbe liked them scrambled. Bull's-eye would've thrown the Rebbe for a loop.
That next morning, the Rebbe started praying, 'H' I'm praying for my breakfast.' The servant came out with an empty tray. That was funny in an ironic way back then. The field of comedy wasn't fully developed yet. It was pre-vaudeville. At that exact moment, there was a knock at the door, and a man stood there thanking the Rebbe, as his wife is OK. He stood there with food, and asked the Rebbe to take it, as a gesture of their appreciation. And the Rebbe ate it and said, 'H' thank you for my breakfast.' How the eggs were still warm is a miracle that nobody can explain to this day. 
And from that moment on, the servant knew he would never get thanked.

Lessons of What Followed
He understood from the incident that he would never be appreciated, as all comes from Gd. To feel fulfilled, he started looking to alcohol. Yet. He showed up to work every day, on time, and always made breakfast, lest he lose his job to another thankful congregant.
It turns out the servant didn't get the raise he was hoping for. It was impossible for him to find the right time to ask for a raise. Gd got in the way of that too.
What bothered the servant even more was that the Rebbe couldn't even thank the guy at the door. It appears he forgot that guy's name too.

Check out the song on Journeys II