by Nechami Brilliant

Margot Brilliant, a”h, was born on July 17, 1928, in Hamburg, Germany. Because her parents were unable to care for her properly, she spent her early years – from age four to ten – in Paulinenstift, a Jewish orphanage for girls in Hamburg. She remembered her father picking her up for visits to her grandparents on Shabbos afternoons to receive a bracha from her grandfather and recalled fond memories of preparing for Pesach in the orphanage kitchen, with the older girls peeling potatoes. She laughed when she described the first time she peeled potatoes – how, when the dirty peels left dirt marks on the potato, she kept peeling until, by the time she finished, there was not much left of the potato! She also shared fond memories of dancing around the tables Friday night while singing “Shalom Aleichem.”

But if her stay at the orphanage was a tragedy, it also became the bracha that saved her life. In May 1939, at age 10, Margot traveled by boat to England on a Kindertransport. She lived with a family in Colwyn Bay, Wales – not a very happy experience – until she turned 17. At that time, Margot enlisted the aid of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee to help her emigrate to the United States, where she had her maternal grandmother, aunts, and an uncle living in Baltimore. While Margot did not enjoy the voyage by boat to the United States, it was a turning point in her life.

Margot started anew in the new world, working and going to night school to receive proper training to become a secretary. Margot was determined and very resilient. She worked various jobs in retail businesses before having the epiphany that she could do this herself. She opened her own mailing and secretarial business in downtown Baltimore. Over the many years of her business, her services supported many of Baltimore’s Jewish organizations while in their infancy. She worked hand in hand with Rebbetzin Gitty Dinovits, Rebbetzin Rochel Feldman, and many devoted communal leaders of the Baltimore community laying the groundwork for the strong vibrant Baltimore we have today.

Every year as Yom Kippur approaches, we think about seeking forgiveness (mechila) from those we have hurt. Yom Kippur is that incredible day when our aveiros are forgiven; yet, the Mishna (Yoma 85b) teaches that Yom Kippur will not bring about atonement for any infraction we committed towards another person unless we have appeased that individual. In fact, the Rema (606:2) writes that there is a specific custom on erev Yom Kippur to ask others for forgiveness.

How does one go about asking for forgiveness? Often apologies are not done properly, and I want to devote this article to elucidating the elements of a proper apology. I first want to explain what asking mechila is not. I remember when I was in middle school and how, before Yom Kippur, children would go through the halls asking everyone they met, “Are you mochel? Do you forgive me for anything I did?” This type of cheap, insincere request for forgiveness is not meaningful. Also, the subject who may have been hurt does not even have the opportunity to contemplate what was done to him and if he actually forgives. Furthermore, there is not even an option not to forgive, since saying, “No, I’m not mochel,” to this type of wholesale request for forgiveness would be socially inappropriate.

Once upon a time, a “young at heart” senior citizen couple decided to go on a vacation. She wanted to go to a destination that was not too far away (six or seven hours) that had cool temperatures (in the 70s as opposed to Baltimore’s humid 90s) fresh air, beautiful views, and, of course, nice accommodations. He wanted a venue that would have a good hechsher, regular minyanim, and heimishe vibes.

She leafed through her magazines, did some research on Google and asked around. “Voila, I have the perfect place,” she said, “Banff, in the Canadian Rockies, with the same group we’ve gone with before.”

Happily, he agreed! He filled out the application, submitted the deposit, and booked the tickets.

Summer was coming to a close. The Nine Days were over, the laundry was done, and the suitcases were packed. “We are ready,” she said very happily, thinking about the week to come.

Departure day arrived and so did the weather alerts. The weather reporters were announcing “rain, heavy at times, high winds, and thunderstorms.” They also mentioned that possible flight cancellations and delays were expected. “Oh my,” she said. “Don’t worry,” he said. And off they went to BWI.

Today, we use our Apple iPhones, Samsungs, or Galaxies every day. We drive to our destinations with Waze and check the internet for anything we want to know. Though invented only around 25 or 30 years ago, these innovations have become essential – and absolutely addictive. We wonder how we ever navigated our lives without them. Now AI is here and growing more sophisticated from month to month. The world is once again being transformed, although it is yet known whether for better or worse.

Hashem has allowed these incredible inventions, but they are not new. Thousands of years ago, the choshen, the sacred breastplate worn by the High Priest, the Kohen Gadol, in the Holy Temple, did all of this and much more. The choshen was adorned with the urim vetumim, 12 precious gemstones, each representing one of the 12 Tribes of Israel. They “lit up” to give answers to the most profound questions facing the nation. They were an intermediary through which Divine guidance was provided. Most significant is that the answers came directly from Hashem – no Google, no Siri, no Alexa, no ChatGBT – only answers from Hashem.

They say a language reveals what matters most to a culture. You can tell a lot about a people by what they have words for. The Inuit are famous for having over 50 words for snow – powdery snow, heavy snow, drifting snow, crusted snow. They live surrounded by it; they’ve learned to notice every kind.

And then there’s us – the Jews. We might not have 50 words for snow, but we do have quite a few for sin. There’s chet, avon, pesha, asham, me’ilah, shgagah – almost a full vocabulary of human imperfection – which, if nothing else, proves that we’ve been thinking about this for a very long time. But here’s the thing: The meanings behind these words are not all the same. Each one names a different kind of failing – and a different kind of spiritual work.

There are many reasons people hesitate to become involved in shidduchim. Some of those reasons are valid, but many are not. If you have an idea for your neighbor, your niece, or the guest at your Shabbos table, just redt it. What is the worst that can happen? You may get a no? Shadchanim hear no all the time. If every no discouraged them from suggesting another shidduch, no one would ever be dating! So, if you have an idea, go for it. And if you truly cannot bring yourself to make the suggestion, contact a shadchan whom you know and trust and pass the idea along.

If it is so simple, why are people reluctant to become involved? In my experience, there are three especially challenging parts of redting shidduchim:

·         Getting both sides to say yes in the first place.

·         Delivering a no to the boy or girl who had a wonderful time and hoped to continue.

·         Waiting – and waiting – for someone to get back to you after a date.

All of us have experiences in life that can be described as “lives well lived.” In truth, there are hundreds of “stories” out there. Think about it – and I do think about it often – every Jew alive today and every observant Jew, especially, is a miracle. We have endured so many centuries of mistreatment that anyone who somehow survived and is now living a Jewish life is a nes, a miracle.

From time to time, Rabbi Dovid Katz asks me to profile an interesting person. Those who have lived in Baltimore for a long time have probably met Esther and Roni Matyas. Esther was a caterer for decades. Roni is a professional traiberer, trained to remove certain veins and to salt the meat after an animal has been shechted. In Hebrew, this is called nikur and melicha. Roni did this for many years and also served as a mashgiach in the slaughterhouse. He is proud to have received a letter from Rabbi Moshe Heinemann permitting him to perform these functions at Ner Israel. But Roni had a life before he came to the goldene medina, and Rabbi Katz was correct that this story deserves to be told.

Rachel Loew Lipman was only 12 years old when she started working in her family’s honey wine (aka mead) business, which dates back over 156 years. The fifth-generation winemaker and general manager of Loew Vineyards in Mt. Airy, Maryland, is following in the footsteps of her industrious great-great grandmother, Malka Löew, who started her first honey winery in 1870 in Lwów, Poland (now Lviv, Ukraine). Had Malka’s grandson, Wolf Loew, the cofounder of Loew Vineyards, perished in the Holocaust, the family business would have ceased to exist. Instead, it was reestablished in America and now comprises a sprawling 37 acres, includes a few acres of grapes, some apple trees, a flower farm, and an apiary. It even sells its own pure, raw wildflower honey. Wolf referred to the vineyard as his “slice of heaven.” Rachel now runs the winery and business operations with her grandmother Lois and her partner, Sam Adler.

Not long ago, Feigi sent me to Seven Mile Market with a Shabbos shopping list. Unfortunately, I have had great difficulty with mobility recently and find it necessary to use a cane or a walker. A shopping cart is actually very helpful. Unfortunately, however, my left foot is sometimes especially painful around the knee. I later found out that this happened because I was advised to put a pad in my left shoe because that leg foot was a little shorter than the other. This “cure” upset the muscles and has caused me weeks of pain, which ebbs and flows.

Last Friday, I was in the middle of the store when I realized that every step I took was painful. I could not continue shopping, even using the cart as a walker. But I was trapped. I didn’t feel able to walk out of the store all the way to my car, and I was only partially finished with the shopping list. What to do?