?A number of readers have contacted me to ask why I didn’t write an article for the previous (February) edition. Firstly, I apologize that I couldn’t make the last deadline. Secondly, I was gratified to learn that some people actually read my articles.

I have had the privilege of writing for the WWW for almost five years. Sometimes readers agree with my take on things and sometimes not. I am grateful that WWW has allowed me the freedom to express myself as I see fit. Occasionally, my articles have been controversial, but still, the magazine’s editors allowed me to be me.

Over 25 years ago, my dear friend and mentor, Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski, of blessed memory, told me that I should write a book. He said, “You should write along the lines of Rabbi Emanuel Feldman’s Tales Out of Shul or Rabbi Paysach Krohn’s Maggid stories. Rabbi Twerski said, “I’ll be happy to give your book my haskama (approbation).” I always wanted to write the type of book Rabbi Twerski described, but so many things that seemed critical or more important filled my days.

In the Torah portion of Miketz, Yosef has been taken out of jail and called before Pharaoh to interpret the ruler’s disturbing dreams. In Bereishis (41:33) Yosef advises Pharaoh to select someone to oversee Egypt who is an “ish navon v’chacham.” Although a casual translation would simply indicate the need to choose someone wise to protect the kingdom from famine, Yosef specifically uses two words, navon and chacham. The Rashbam says that in this context the words mean “knowledgeable” and “possessing foresight.” Rambam explains this as, “possessing technical skills” and “people skills.” Even the pagan Pharaoh recognizes that, while being wise is vital to perform the difficult tasks at hand, Yosef also possesses the Divine “spirit of G-d within him.” Yosef is therefore much more than wise. It is for this reason that Pharaoh chooses Yosef to become the viceroy of Egypt.

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the words navon v’chacham. The Talmud, in Tamid 32, refers to a chacham as someone who can ascertain the consequences of future actions. When we meet those rare individuals, who are both a chacham and a navon, we are surely meeting someone who possesses the Divine spirit.

?I like the American holiday of Thanksgiving which was just celebrated. Unfortunately, these days, instead of giving thanks to G-d and showing gratitude to others, many Americans think that Thanksgiving is simply a time to shop for bargains.

Giving thanks and showing appreciation are core Jewish values. The Modim prayer of thanksgiving is recited daily in our Shmoneh Esrei/Amidah. As Chanukah approaches, we Jews are reminded to be thankful for the miracles that Hashem performed for our ancestors. Our survival then, as now, has always relied upon miracles. In recent times, though, both of these holidays have become more about getting than giving. It seems that we need to be reminded to give with an open hand, to appreciate, and to be thankful, because our spiritual health and wellbeing require it.

?During the past year I have, on several occasions, reprinted articles written by the award-winning British journalist Melanie Phillips. Because she lives in London and is not an American, Melanie has a unique objectivity when commenting on what’s happening in the United States. As mentioned in one of my previous articles, Melanie introduces herself as a “liberal who was mugged by reality.” Her most popular book is entitled Londonistan: How Britain is Creating a Terror State Within. Unfortunately, the United States and most other naïve Western democracies have also created “terror states within.”

On the day after the U.S. elections, Melanie wrote the following article, which appeared in several major British publications.
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As we approach this year’s Yomim Nora’im, we cannot forget the horrors that occurred on October 7, 2023, which, last year, coincided with Shemini Atzeres.

A year ago, Jews in Israel were vociferously divided and rigid in their animosity towards one another. This culminated last Yom Kippur, when secular Jews broke up a group of worshippers in Tel Aviv claiming that they – the worshipers – were destroying the city’s secular ambiance. On Motzei Yom Kippur, when I read about the Tel Aviv tragedy, my heart sank. I knew that when there is such extreme animosity among Jews, we become weakened and vulnerable. I felt that something awful was going to occur. Then, just 13 days later, the slaughter happened. Of course, our enemies do not discriminate between secular and religious Jews. In their reptilian eyes, a Jew is a Jew.

Sadly, many of our Israeli (and Diaspora) brothers and sisters are still divided, but this Rosh Hashanah, our enemies in the North have served as the catalyst for some renewed internal unity among the Jewish people. How tragic it is that, for most of Jewish history, our unity has been inspired by those who desire our destruction.

In my youth, almost every Orthodox shul had a shamash. I fondly remember the elderly shamash who would pinch my cheeks at my grandpa’s shul when I was young. For those unfamiliar with the role and responsibilities of the shamash, I’ll explain. If you google the term, you’ll be informed that Shamash was a Mesopotamian sun god. Actually, there may have been some shamashim who thought of themselves in such terms. Nevertheless, for centuries, until rather recently, the shamash assisted the rabbi, the chazan, the baal koreh, and the gabbayim in the many tasks involved in maintaining and running a shul. In the shtetls of Europe, the shamash, using a special wooden mallet, would knock on the doors of congregants to wake them up and remind them to get to the minyan.