The Haftarah read after this week’s parasha is taken from Melachim Alef and enumerates different vessels made for the first Beit Hamikdash. In Sefardi communities, they read among other vessels about the two pillars of copper made by Shlomo Hamelech that stood at the entrance of the Beit Hamikdash. Interestingly enough, the pillars were given names, an uncommon phenomenon for inanimate objects in the Torah. Different explanations are given for why they were given names and why specifically the names of Yachin and Boaz. According to Radak, the pillars were given names in order to provide a positive message for those who passed through the doorway to the Beit Hamikdash. Yachin, the Radak explains, is an expression of establishment that Hashem should keep the Beit Hamikdash established forever, and Boaz, which can be translated from “ba oz” conveys “strength within”- a blessing that Hashem should place strength within the Beit Hamikdash. Rabbi Torczyner (pronounced Torch-ee-ner) helps us understand why that message was imparted through the pillars next to the doorway and not through another part of the Beit Hamikdash. He suggests that there is already a precedent of imparting messages through our doorposts, as was done prior to Yetziat Mitzrayim with the blood of the lamb and is a powerful symbol until today with the mezuzot we place on our doorposts. An entrance to one place is an entrance to a new domain and is also a sign of an exit from the previous domain. He explains how the pillars marked the point at which the Jewish people transitioned from the mundane to the sacred- they left the outside world to enter Hashem’s sanctuary. Our houses, batei knesset, and we ourselves should be mikdashei me’at, where we are careful to fill ourselves and our places of living and of worship with holiness. The Chida (read about in Wellsprings of Torah) comments about the naming of the pillars by quoting Chazal who say that the yetzer hara is renewed each day and only with Hashem by our side can we conquer it BUT one will only receive help from Hashem if he/she chooses the fight the yetzer hara on his/her own. The Chida thus understands the message of the two copper pillars that if a person Yachin, will prepare himself and work to act against the evil inclination, with there be “Boaz,” strength within him to help him succeed in the battle.
My father a”h was a man who never stopped “lehachin”- he was a man who strived for and aimed toward increasing holiness in his middot and in his Torah learning. His countless sefarim that he owned and actually read are replete with notes to himself on how and where he would like to improve, his conversations with us always contained a dvar torah along with a check in that we were taking good enough care of ourselves, and the amount of Torah that he learned in the last number of years just increased and increased. He had seen and experienced the world of the mundane and just wanted to work on increasing the sacred. I miss him and his love terribly and draw upon his inspiration every time I listen to a shiur on a commute home or use free time to learn Torah. I pray that we, his descendants, are a credit to his holy neshama. Thank you so much for coming. May his neshama have an aliya.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
Monday, February 29, 2016
From Leora Hecht, on Daniel Rubin z'l's 2nd yahrtzeit
Amira,
I wanted to share a thought on simcha in memory of your father, alav hashalom. May the zechus of the Torah shared at his yartzeit seuda, along with the chessed that will be done through your gemach, be an aliyah for his neshama.
At the end of the Tochacha in Sefer Devarim, the pasuk says that these terrible curses come as a result of not having served Hashem with simcha. Rabbi Frand says that it appears quite harsh that bnei Yisrael should receive such strong curses because they are not doing mitzvos with simcha. They are, after all, still doing the mitzvah.
Rabbi Frand presents another difficulty with this idea. Chazal tell us that the Tochacha that we find at the end of Sefer Vayikra corresponded to the events of the First Bais Hamikadash. The Tochacha in Parshas Ki Savo is referring to the period leading up to the destruction of the Second Bais Hamikadash. We know the reason the Second Beis HaMikdash was destroyed was because of sinas chinam. So these two lessons of Chazal seem to contradict each other. Was the second Bais Hamikadash destroyed because of sinas chinam or was it destroyed because they didn't serve Hashem with simcha?
Rabbi Frand suggests that maybe there is no contradiction. That, in fact, there is a link between the ideas of sinas chinam and not serving Hashem with simcha. Failure to serve Hashem with joy, in turn, leads to Sinas Chinam.
Rabbi Frand concludes with the following quote:"When a person is happy with himself, the feeling is contagious. He is willing to share that peace and that happiness. Those feelings affect other people. When a person is not happy with himself, he is miserable and he dislikes other people's happiness or success. Just as happiness rubs off, so too unhappiness rubs off and such a person cannot be satisfied with anyone else's success."
When a person is b'simcha, they exude an ahavas chinam, a love for their fellow Jew. This beautiful trait and lesson for all of us was something I always saw in Dr. Rubin, a"h. Regardless of the situation, he was always b'simcha; always with a smile. His simcha was contagious! He had a zeal for learning Torah and doing mitzvos. His love for every Jew was unparalleled. Though I never saw these ideas as being related, having the zechus of knowing Dr. Rubin, I now see how these middos are actually one.
I wanted to share a thought on simcha in memory of your father, alav hashalom. May the zechus of the Torah shared at his yartzeit seuda, along with the chessed that will be done through your gemach, be an aliyah for his neshama.
At the end of the Tochacha in Sefer Devarim, the pasuk says that these terrible curses come as a result of not having served Hashem with simcha. Rabbi Frand says that it appears quite harsh that bnei Yisrael should receive such strong curses because they are not doing mitzvos with simcha. They are, after all, still doing the mitzvah.
Rabbi Frand presents another difficulty with this idea. Chazal tell us that the Tochacha that we find at the end of Sefer Vayikra corresponded to the events of the First Bais Hamikadash. The Tochacha in Parshas Ki Savo is referring to the period leading up to the destruction of the Second Bais Hamikadash. We know the reason the Second Beis HaMikdash was destroyed was because of sinas chinam. So these two lessons of Chazal seem to contradict each other. Was the second Bais Hamikadash destroyed because of sinas chinam or was it destroyed because they didn't serve Hashem with simcha?
Rabbi Frand suggests that maybe there is no contradiction. That, in fact, there is a link between the ideas of sinas chinam and not serving Hashem with simcha. Failure to serve Hashem with joy, in turn, leads to Sinas Chinam.
Rabbi Frand concludes with the following quote:"When a person is happy with himself, the feeling is contagious. He is willing to share that peace and that happiness. Those feelings affect other people. When a person is not happy with himself, he is miserable and he dislikes other people's happiness or success. Just as happiness rubs off, so too unhappiness rubs off and such a person cannot be satisfied with anyone else's success."
When a person is b'simcha, they exude an ahavas chinam, a love for their fellow Jew. This beautiful trait and lesson for all of us was something I always saw in Dr. Rubin, a"h. Regardless of the situation, he was always b'simcha; always with a smile. His simcha was contagious! He had a zeal for learning Torah and doing mitzvos. His love for every Jew was unparalleled. Though I never saw these ideas as being related, having the zechus of knowing Dr. Rubin, I now see how these middos are actually one.
Monday, July 27, 2015
From Yitzchak Etshalom
I went to visit my folks ז"ל this past Friday and paused for a moment at Daniel - their new neighbor's - site. I was suddenly filled with a sense of good humor and kindness that he always brought with him - an inquisitive mind and sweet smile that are such an uncommon and blessed pairing. I remember him especially at our Saturday night classes, with his infectious laugh and sharp questions, always livening up the learning. His presence at our daf yomi shiur during the last years of his life was a special blessing for all of us and we all miss him.
יהי זכרו ברוך
יצחק / Yitzchak Etshalom
Friday, March 13, 2015
Brenda's Yahrtzeit speech
This Tuesday was the Yahrtzeit/אזכרה (anniversary of the passing) of Daniel ben Kalanomous v'Faygel. Here is Brenda's powerful speech that she read to family and friends:
Eavesdropping on a conversation between two men at a recent NBN event, I heard one of the men explain how he was interested in improving his midot (character traits) since he was getting older and once you die, you become a “story.” He wanted his story to be one of value. This is Daniel’s yahrzeit and Thank G-d, Daniel had a good story to tell. I won’t tell it all because it would take days.
In short, he loved being a doctor and felt privileged that he could help people and do G-d’s work as a doctor and also support a family doing what he loved. He loved learning Torah and progressed from knowing very little to being able to substitute for a Rabbi at Beth Jacob teaching Daf Yomi (the daily page of Talmud study). He went through 3 cycles of Daf Yomi.
Not only did Daniel love learning Torah, but he loved being religious. He loved to tell his story of being a Ba’al Tshuvah (a Jew who turns to embrace Orthodox Judaism) and loved hearing other people’s stories. He found his own transition to religious Judaism amazing. George once asked Daniel, “When are you going to stop being a Ba’al Tshuvah and just be like everyone?” Daniel was thrilled to answer that he intended to be a Ba’al Tshuvah his whole life.
Most of all, he loved his family. When taken to chemotherapy treatments,he told a friend that of all his accomplishments,he was most proud of his children. Daniel loved his children more than anything else in his life. Daniel and I always intended to make Aliyah since we got married. We needed to save money, then we had children, then day school expenses, and then . . .
We had a target date for our Aliyah—October 2014. Daniel got all his credentials certified so he could practice in Israel. When we did not know Daniel was ill, and we were pursuing Aliyah, I got scared at the prospect of emptying our house and garage of 35 years of clutter. I thought maybe we could change our plans and continue to go back and forth. Daniel answered, “I lived too many years of my life without my children and grandchildren. I don’t want to live so far away from them any more.” What he said made sense to me.
I wish he had been able to come with me on Aliyah. I miss him.
Eavesdropping on a conversation between two men at a recent NBN event, I heard one of the men explain how he was interested in improving his midot (character traits) since he was getting older and once you die, you become a “story.” He wanted his story to be one of value. This is Daniel’s yahrzeit and Thank G-d, Daniel had a good story to tell. I won’t tell it all because it would take days.
In short, he loved being a doctor and felt privileged that he could help people and do G-d’s work as a doctor and also support a family doing what he loved. He loved learning Torah and progressed from knowing very little to being able to substitute for a Rabbi at Beth Jacob teaching Daf Yomi (the daily page of Talmud study). He went through 3 cycles of Daf Yomi.
Not only did Daniel love learning Torah, but he loved being religious. He loved to tell his story of being a Ba’al Tshuvah (a Jew who turns to embrace Orthodox Judaism) and loved hearing other people’s stories. He found his own transition to religious Judaism amazing. George once asked Daniel, “When are you going to stop being a Ba’al Tshuvah and just be like everyone?” Daniel was thrilled to answer that he intended to be a Ba’al Tshuvah his whole life.
Most of all, he loved his family. When taken to chemotherapy treatments,he told a friend that of all his accomplishments,he was most proud of his children. Daniel loved his children more than anything else in his life. Daniel and I always intended to make Aliyah since we got married. We needed to save money, then we had children, then day school expenses, and then . . .
We had a target date for our Aliyah—October 2014. Daniel got all his credentials certified so he could practice in Israel. When we did not know Daniel was ill, and we were pursuing Aliyah, I got scared at the prospect of emptying our house and garage of 35 years of clutter. I thought maybe we could change our plans and continue to go back and forth. Daniel answered, “I lived too many years of my life without my children and grandchildren. I don’t want to live so far away from them any more.” What he said made sense to me.
I wish he had been able to come with me on Aliyah. I miss him.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Seymour Perl's talk on the Chabad telethon
My best friend Dr. Daniel Rubin passed away in February of this year. His whole life was changed and shaped when, as a 21 year old UCLA medical student, in 1969, he met Rabbi Shlomo Cunin for the first time, on the UCLA campus. Rabbi Cunin was approaching male students to put on tefillin.
Rabbi Cunin helped Dan put on tefillin for the first time. According to Dan’s wife Brenda, Dan was very excited about putting on tefillin and considered it a very emotional and spiritual experience. Rabbi Cunin saw how excited Dan was so he went to his car, and brought back a pair of tefillin which he gave to Dan.
Rabbi Cunin then offered to take Dan with him the following day to the Brandeis Bardin Institute where he was planning to talk to, sing with, and put tefillin on the men and give out Shabbos candles to the women. Dan was thrilled to join him, even though he himself had just learned how to put on tefillin.
Dan spent the day with Rabbi Cunin at Brandeis, helping the campers put on tefillin. He found it to be a very fulfilling experience, helping others connect with their Jewish heritage. This was the beginning of his journey into a Jewish orthodox way of life. He never missed a day of putting on tefillin from that day on.
Dan started going to the Westwood Chabad House to pray and learn every Shabbos while he was in medical school. Rabbi Cunin told me that Dan’s reconnection to Judaism was special and Dan consequently influenced many others to do the same.
Dan always had a Jewish text in his hand so that he could study when he had a free moment. After Dan’s passing, Rabbi Cunin suggested that I study the holy Tanya daily in Dan’s memory. This is Dan’s copy of the holy Tanya that he studied from daily and that I now use daily.
Rabbi Cunin also suggested that my wife Carole should ask a woman to start lighting Shabbos candles once a month in Dan’s memory. A friend has now undertaken this mitzvah.
Dan continued his relationship with Chabad, praying and learning with them at the Chabad near his home. He always gave commentaries on the torah based on the Rebbe’s teachings.
Dan and Brenda raised four children who are religiously committed, as are all their grandchildren. He left a wonderful legacy. It all started with a so-called ‘chance’ meeting on the UCLA campus with Rabbi Cunin, but is anything really caused by chance?
Rabbi Cunin helped Dan put on tefillin for the first time. According to Dan’s wife Brenda, Dan was very excited about putting on tefillin and considered it a very emotional and spiritual experience. Rabbi Cunin saw how excited Dan was so he went to his car, and brought back a pair of tefillin which he gave to Dan.
Rabbi Cunin then offered to take Dan with him the following day to the Brandeis Bardin Institute where he was planning to talk to, sing with, and put tefillin on the men and give out Shabbos candles to the women. Dan was thrilled to join him, even though he himself had just learned how to put on tefillin.
Dan spent the day with Rabbi Cunin at Brandeis, helping the campers put on tefillin. He found it to be a very fulfilling experience, helping others connect with their Jewish heritage. This was the beginning of his journey into a Jewish orthodox way of life. He never missed a day of putting on tefillin from that day on.
Dan started going to the Westwood Chabad House to pray and learn every Shabbos while he was in medical school. Rabbi Cunin told me that Dan’s reconnection to Judaism was special and Dan consequently influenced many others to do the same.
Dan always had a Jewish text in his hand so that he could study when he had a free moment. After Dan’s passing, Rabbi Cunin suggested that I study the holy Tanya daily in Dan’s memory. This is Dan’s copy of the holy Tanya that he studied from daily and that I now use daily.
Rabbi Cunin also suggested that my wife Carole should ask a woman to start lighting Shabbos candles once a month in Dan’s memory. A friend has now undertaken this mitzvah.
Dan continued his relationship with Chabad, praying and learning with them at the Chabad near his home. He always gave commentaries on the torah based on the Rebbe’s teachings.
Dan and Brenda raised four children who are religiously committed, as are all their grandchildren. He left a wonderful legacy. It all started with a so-called ‘chance’ meeting on the UCLA campus with Rabbi Cunin, but is anything really caused by chance?
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
From a friend Jack
Dan was kind, gentle, witty, knowledgeable, and spoke of you (Brenda) and he retiring to Israel. He loved and cherished his family. G‑d's Gifts abounded in Daniel.
I cherish and Dan declined payment for a dreidel and pendant (both inscribed with "the Great Miracle happened here") that he brought me from Jerusalem. We discussed many things, his writings were inspired, and he spoke and wrote of Hillel's dictum, "If I am not for myself, who will be for me; and if I am for myself alone, what am I, and if not now, when."
I cherish and Dan declined payment for a dreidel and pendant (both inscribed with "the Great Miracle happened here") that he brought me from Jerusalem. We discussed many things, his writings were inspired, and he spoke and wrote of Hillel's dictum, "If I am not for myself, who will be for me; and if I am for myself alone, what am I, and if not now, when."
Thursday, May 8, 2014
From Shelly Stohl
Strength Behind a Smile
I promised that I would share my humble memories of Dr. Rubin. I apologize in advance to you and to him that, although I had one of the best English teachers in the business, my words are inadequate to encapsulate the full impression that he left with me:
*****
Dr. Rubin nearly always wore a smile across his face. A warm smile, at that. And his voice was lively - upbeat and full of promise. He had much to be happy for, most notably his beloved wife, his four wonderful children (yes, Moshe, even you, though I'm being a bit generous here), and the ever-growing clan of grandchildren.
But Dr. Rubin's wasn't a simple warm smile. It was a wry warm smile. There was something faintly intimidating about his persona. On my visits to the Rubin home, I welcomed Dr. Rubin's exuberance, but I was also always just a little bit scared. Dr. Rubin's smile seemed to stem from a satisfaction, a surety, a pride that comes with hard-won and hard-earned successes, that comes from knowing you've sacrificed in your life for the right things - from knowing that you've made the right choices. His smile betrayed a moral fortitude, as if to say: I've wrestled with some serious dilemmas, I've faced tall obstacles, and I didn't run, I didn't settle, I didn't compromise my values. His smile challenged you - it challenged me - to live up to that standard. It challenged you to live so that one day you could smile like him.
I'm privy, I'm sure, to but a small fraction of the life-altering choices and the trying struggles Dr. Rubin faced as a Jew, as a professional, as a father, and as a grandfather. He must have confronted those choices and those struggles with dignity and with principle - you could read it on his face. And he must have felt certain that he successfully passed on that fortitude to his family - it radiated from his smile.
I promised that I would share my humble memories of Dr. Rubin. I apologize in advance to you and to him that, although I had one of the best English teachers in the business, my words are inadequate to encapsulate the full impression that he left with me:
*****
Dr. Rubin nearly always wore a smile across his face. A warm smile, at that. And his voice was lively - upbeat and full of promise. He had much to be happy for, most notably his beloved wife, his four wonderful children (yes, Moshe, even you, though I'm being a bit generous here), and the ever-growing clan of grandchildren.
But Dr. Rubin's wasn't a simple warm smile. It was a wry warm smile. There was something faintly intimidating about his persona. On my visits to the Rubin home, I welcomed Dr. Rubin's exuberance, but I was also always just a little bit scared. Dr. Rubin's smile seemed to stem from a satisfaction, a surety, a pride that comes with hard-won and hard-earned successes, that comes from knowing you've sacrificed in your life for the right things - from knowing that you've made the right choices. His smile betrayed a moral fortitude, as if to say: I've wrestled with some serious dilemmas, I've faced tall obstacles, and I didn't run, I didn't settle, I didn't compromise my values. His smile challenged you - it challenged me - to live up to that standard. It challenged you to live so that one day you could smile like him.
I'm privy, I'm sure, to but a small fraction of the life-altering choices and the trying struggles Dr. Rubin faced as a Jew, as a professional, as a father, and as a grandfather. He must have confronted those choices and those struggles with dignity and with principle - you could read it on his face. And he must have felt certain that he successfully passed on that fortitude to his family - it radiated from his smile.
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