The Young Adult Chabad Centre in Sydney, Australia is a gathering place for young Jewish adults to explore their Judaism through Torah studies, prayer, and social activities. It is run By Rabbi Eli Feldman and Rabbi Danny Yaffe, who work actively in attracting a young crowd looking to find out more about their Jewish heritage.

Rachel and I have been going to pray there quite often. We enjoy the calm, easy, and laid-back feel. It is a place where people can pray at their own level. This past Shabbat following the afternoon prayer service (Mincha) we sat down to eat Seudah Shlishit, also known as Shalosh Seudas in Yiddish. It is the third meal eaten on Shabbat, to celebrate the holy day. During the meal, there is often beautiful singing and  someone will share some words of Torah and or a story of inspiration.

This week it was a treat to hear Gershon Wachtel speak. Gershon has some incredible stories on how he’s stayed strong in his Judaism.  He also seems to have some elixir of youth,because at over sixty years old his face is pretty much wrinkle-free. Gershon said the secret to youth and vitality is: “Life is serious, but you don’t have to take it so seriously. Take the time to smile at people and always have a good word.”

Gershon Wachtel is a fantastic pianist who has been playing for over 50 years. He shared some of his personal experiences of how as he became religiously observant he was often in conflict when it came to performances that were to be held on Shabbat. Notably, there were times when he could have had the opportunity to play at the Olympics and at some high-profile piano competitions, but there would have been no way to avoid playing on Shabbat. “G-d is testing us,” said Gershon. “and each one of us has our own challenges in whatever way they may be.”

How true this is. His words made me think of my mountain climbing challenges when it comes to keeping Shabbat and being high up in the mountains. Each one of us has our own conflict, and no one individual’s is necessarily greater than the other, only different in its presentation.

After the havdalah ceremony, Wachtel treated us to a few songs played on a piano that do not do justice to his musical talent. It was an old piano hanging around the Yeshivah Centre that has probably not been tuned in years. Nevertheless, Wachtel played some inspiring Jewish music from the soul. He said how he really only learned to truly play perhaps some ten years ago when he started playing from the soul.

I liked this because as a chazzan and student of Jewish chazzanut I know how true it is: When it comes to leading the congregation in song, if the leader is connected with his soul the voice does not matter so much as the truth behind it. However, of course it’s a blessing to have both, the soul and the voice.

Gershon Wachtel  certainly had soul and talent in his music, and I say thank you for inspiring me.

Here is a video clip of Gershon playing a tune to Psalm 23. It is one of my favorite tunes and I enjoy his interpretation of it

In Bijapur, India, local women welcome me with open arms, even though I look different and have different customs.

I feel like a stranger everywhere I go.  Whether I am in a foreign country among people who do not speak my language or I am visiting my family back home in Virginia, I feel like a stranger.  I am a wanderer, the Roaming Rebbetzin, married to the Traveling Rabbi, ever on the move.

Sometimes I feel like a stranger just because I am in a place I have never been before. I don’t know anyone, nobody knows me.  Countless times have I relied on the generosity and kindness of strangers.  Countless times have fellow Jews – and even non-Jews – opened their doors to me in hospitality, whether I was traveling alone or with my husband.  And there were also times when I felt unwelcome, where I was made to feel I didn’t fit or I wasn’t wanted and I found doors shut in my face just when I needed them opened.  This is the way life goes.  But on balance, far, far more doors have been opened than have been closed; far more people have given me hospitality than have ever even hinted at refusing it.

Sometimes I feel like a stranger because of my life situation and my story.  I may know the people around me, I may be amongst friends I have known for years, and yet coming home always makes me feel like a stranger.  With every journey away from home, not only does the story of my life change, but I change.  New situations and new experiences shape us into new people and so, coming home again, I once again feel like a stranger.  Once again, I rely on the generosity, love, and caring of those people who knew me before, and I rely on their kindness in opening their arms to me once again, even though I have changed since they last saw me.

So in reading this week’s parsha, I found a commandment that really resonates with me.  “You shall not abuse a stranger and you shall not oppress him,” Hashem (G-d) commands, “for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”  We Jews were strangers in the land of Egypt and we were abused and oppressed there.  As we were oppressed, we should learn from this not to act so badly to others.  We are above such behavior.  We are Jews.

In Hampi, India, Lev Yehudi, a Jewish House for travelers, welcomes in any Jews who come by

My personal experiences have made this so much the more true.  Being strangers places us in a position of vulnerability, just as widows and orphans are vulnerable, and Hashem hears the cries of those in a difficult position.  Yet, having had those experiences, I know so much more that strangers must be treated kindly.  Not just that they should be spared abuse (including taunts, teasing, or insults) but that we should show them chessed, lovingkindness.  The role of a Jew is to be a light unto the world.

Look around you.  In your town, in your synagogue, there is bound to be someone new.  Do you know their name? Their story? No? Go up to them this Shabbos and this coming week.  Speak to them.  Offer them your support, invite them for a Shabbat meal.  You have no idea how much impact your hospitality could have on another person.  If they look different, speak different, have a different minhag (or even do not know the halacha as well as you do!), do not speak badly about them or to them – do not even think badly of them! Instead, hold out your hand (whether figuratively or literally) and welcome them.  Act as a true Jew and welcome the stranger amongst you.

Shabbat shalom.

Some cute stuff to buy and give in the Philippines on Valentines day

For starters, no one seems to agree to much about anything to do with Valentine’s Day other than it’s a nice time to send flowers, chocolates, and a card to someone you love. Historians, theologians, academics, believers, and heretics all have their own say about who was the Christian St. Valentines, what he did, and whether Valentine’s day even has anything to do with this St. Valentine.

Some want to say the holiday is based on an earlier pagan festival called Lupercali that had something to do with a fertility holiday. It is also possible that the entire idea of Valentine’s Day was made up by bored person who wanted to create a holiday.

This being said, there is documented evidence in the United States going back to the 1500s that people were sending Valentine’s cards. The U.S Greetings Card Association estimates that today roughly 1 billion card are sent worldwide. Now this is one market I would like to have a share of!

So what does a Jew do on Valentine’s Day?

From Jewish perspective, Valentine’s Day, like Mother’s Day and Father’s Day is nonsense. Because we don’t need a special day for any of this. If on February first you decide you should send a friend a card to say I love you, or you want to buy your mother flowers, a Jewish person does not need to wait until a specific day.

But what if you absolutely want to send someone flowers, chocolates or a card on Valentines day specifically?

There are a few issues with this that are raised by the Rama in the Shulchan Oruch (Code of Jewish Law) based on the Rama’s criteria as to what constitutes a secular holiday which a Jew may not follow.  It would seem because of the vagueness of Valentine’s day and the way in which it is observed it does not constitute a violation of the law according to some Rabbis. However, it is not in the spirit of the law to practice such a thing.

I took this photo in a shop in the Philippines that sold all kinds of stuff you'd give on Valentine's Day

My advice has always been: send chocolates, flowers, and/or a card the day before Valentine’s Day saying; “I wanted you to know I love you so much that I could not wait an extra day.”

Sunset behind Phewa Lake in Pokhara, Nepal, taken from our guesthouse

I loved Pokhara.  It was a special place to me – peaceful, serene, beautiful.  We had a cute but spartan room with the most stunning view overlooking Phewa Lake.  Nothing but a green field of grazing water buffalo was there to obstruct our view.  Surrounding the lake we could see Himalayan peaks rising up, the tallest among them tipped in white.

It was a perfect place to spend Shabbos.  And indeed, we ended up spending several Shabbosim there.  However, the first couple we spent there, the local Chabad House had not yet opened up.  We had been counting on it for our Shabbos meals and companionship.  That meant that, as with numerous other Shabbosim during our journeys, we were on our own.

Yet, the stunning surroundings in no way made preparing for Shabbat any easier.  To my surprise, I discovered that most of Nepal was on electricity rationing.  According to the schedules, we would only have about 7 hours or so of electricity on any given day, split between two sessions, one of which always seemed to fall in the middle of the night.  Preparing for Shabbat during travel can be challenging under the best of circumstances, but without electricity, we would be unable to boil the eggs and potatoes that were staple foods for us during our travels.

But that’s not all – after sunset on Friday night, there would be no electricity, no light to read by.  The Chabad House would have had a generator available, but not our guesthouse. The guesthouse’s policy on this was just that guests should use a candle or two, or a flashlight (in our case, a headlamp).  But after lighting Shabbos candles, we would be unable to light any further candles.  Once our Shabbos candles finished, we would be plunged into complete darkness and we wouldn’t be able to wear our headlamps either.

I think most people out there would find this a challenging situation to be in, week after week, during the entire month and a half that we spent in Nepal.  And it’s true, these situations did present challenges.  But I don’t think of it as anything particularly extraordinary.  After all, electricity is still a relatively recent invention.  We just take our modern living for granted.

In this week’s parsha, when we receive the 10 commandments, one of the most important is to keep the Sabbath.  The ancient Israelites did not have electricity as they spent 40 years traveling in the desert.  They would not have had to cook their own food, that is true (the manna that fell took on any taste they wanted), but they would still have had to sit around the Shabbos table.  They would have wanted light to see by during and after the meal and they wouldn’t have just been able to run to the store and pick up some extra candles.  They would probably have used clay or stone lamps filled with oil with a wick burning in them, rather than candles.  When the oil ran out, so did the light.

So Rabbi Ben and I took our small Shabbos meal (I did manage to boil some eggs and potatoes, and even steam some peas, during the few short hours of electricity – careful planning!) and we went to sit outside.  We watched as the springtime sun descended behind the lake, colors painting layers of rainbow behind the Himalayan peaks.  The guesthouse owner came by and gratuitously placed a single candle in front of us without us needing to ever say a word to him. (Asking a non-Jew to do this type of work on Shabbat could be very problematic, so we couldn’t ask him for it.)  We enjoyed our meal and the incredible scenery.  It was not hard to connect to Hashem in such surroundings.

When we returned to our room, my Shabbos candles were still burning.  We sat and read by their flickering light, enjoying them fully.  In our modern lives, we often fail to really appreciate and use the light cast by our Shabbos candles, as we truly are meant to.  But in this small town in Nepal, we were able to use our Shabbos candles for the purpose they were originally intended – to bring shalom bayis (“peace in the home”).

Boiling potatoes for dinner requires a lot of patience, especially when there is not often electricity

These Shabbosim we spent together in Pokhara are some of my most cherished moments.  I remember the feeling of warmth the Shabbos candles brought in our relationship. I remember the sight of those glorious mountains and the beautiful lake that Hashem Himself made for us to appreciate.  I remember how a simple salad of potatoes, or eggs, or fresh vegetables, seasoned with nothing more than oil and a pinch of salt, could taste so wonderful, could have the flavor of Shabbos.

This is what it truly means to keep Shabbos.  It means to put our worries and cares aside.  Not simply that we “shall not do any work” – but that we should not even think any work – even if we are in a place where it is challenging to keep Shabbos.  It is a time to reconnect, both with Hashem and with one another.

This week as we head into Shabbos, let us concentrate on this most important of commandments, on keeping it fully, on keeping it well, and – most of all – on really appreciating its beauty as a gift that Hashem has given especially to us.

Fruit at a market in Columbia (South America)

Many who know me would say that Tu B’shevat is my favorite holiday. Why? Because I like fruit, and Tu B’shevat celebrates the new year for the trees.

The main custom and way to observe Tu B’shevat is to eat lots of fruit. Many have different customs as to how much variety. It is good to have at least one new fruit that you’ve not had yet in the past year. This will enable you to make the ‘Shehechianu’ blessing. The next step is to have the five fruit from the seven species that the land of Israel is blessed with: grapes, pomegranate, olives, figs, and dates.

After this the sky is the limit. Some people try to have ten types of fruit; others try to have eighteen, twenty six…and so on.

A good thing to do is to sit down with the family and friends for a Tu B’shevat feast where everyone makes a blessing over the fruit and gives thanks to G-d for bringing forth from the ground the fruit of the trees.

As I travel fruit makes up almost 80% of my diet. Fruit is available everywhere and it’s kosher. I especially like to discover new fruits around the world.

Happy Tu B’shevat and enjoy your fruit!