We hold Eretz Yisrael in our hearts as our own special place – our home, even when we don’t reside there. We visit, if we can, to soak up the atmosphere of kedusha (holiness), and some of us actually transfer our selves and our belongings – to live there in reality and not just in our dreams.

One thing that everyone can agree on is that Eretz Yisrael is nothing like our sedate Baltimore. From the blazing sunlight to the passionate people, from the politics to the religion, things are more intense. Everything matters, and everyone cares. Besides being a land steeped in kedusha – perhaps because of it – Eretz Yisrael is embroiled in conflict. Ancient and modern, holy and mundane, beautiful and repulsive, great love and poisonous hatred – they all travel the same buses.

 As I sit in my terrarium-like cubicle at Star-K Kosher Certification, trying to think how to best describe working here before Pesach, I can’t help but think of a beehive. Although the first Seder is just three weeks from tonight, and a lot of you are just now seriously cracking down on preparing for the “P-word” (with the exception of one fellow who came to sell us his chometz on February 18, because he was heading for Israel and staying through Pesach!), here at work, we have been preparing for Pesach 5774/2014 since a week after Pesach 5773/2013. And we will continue to help our Kashrus Hotline callers, emailers, and texters to the last minute possible, even past candle lighting (but before shkia, sunset) on the first Seder night.

I stumbled on the idea for this article while talking to a shadchan about a young man. The first question the shadchan asked me was, “Is he modern?” I was taken aback, because although I had described this young man in some detail, I had never thought to give him a label. Was he modern? Did modern mean a certain hashkafa and approach to Judaism? Or did it mean lackadaisical observance? I really did not know how to answer the shadchan, which is what brought me to explore the whole topic.

The United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) recently conducted a study about the consumption of pizza in the United States. This study may clarify a long-lasting question as to what bracha (blessing) should be made upon eating pizza. It is fascinating to see that halacha can possibly be determined by studies conducted by the government, which were done without any intention of clarifying halacha.

Here is the dilemma: There is a difference of opinion among the contemporary American poskim as to what bracha should be said on pizza. While poskim from Eretz Yisrael all agree that one should make hamotzi on pizza, even when eating a small amount as a snack,* in the United States it is questionable.

Nu, you may ask, what type of title is “Maid for a Day”? A good question. There once was a television program called “Queen for a Day.” (Does anyone remember?) It made a tsimmis (big deal) of one lucky lady from the TV audience who was chosen to be queen and receive her special wish – anything from a special bed for a handicapped child to a housekeeper to replace her while she recovered from surgery. She got many other prizes, too. The audience ah-ed and oo-ed as the gifts were presented, making all the vibelach (wives) jealous. When she received a free trip to the Bahamas, the olam went wild with envy.

Question: I just found out that my cholesterol is high. Do I need to stop eating eggs?

Answer: First, a little about cholesterol and what it is. Cholesterol is essential to the body. It is the parent molecule of some very important hormones and also of vitamin D. Most people don’t know that the majority of cholesterol is made in your body, by the liver. The body has a reciprocal relationship with cholesterol. If you take in more from your diet, the liver makes less. If you eat less, the liver makes more. It is almost impossible to outsmart the body because of this protective mechanism.

I wanted to share some of my feelings regarding the recent loss of Rabbi Yona Munk, a”h, who passed away this year on Hoshana Rabba. The genesis of my relationship with Rabbi Munk can be attributed to a shul announcement. A number of years ago during Shabbat davening at Shomrei Emunah, Rabbi Weinreb concluded his sermon by stating that “one of our own,” Rabbi Munk, had completed a sefer, which was now for sale at a local sefarim store. Rabbi Weinreb noted that the sefer, entitled Hegei Yona (Thoughts of Yona), was written in Hebrew and contained a number of creative insights on the parsha. This routine announcement, a transition to Mussaf for most of the kehila (congregation), opened a window for me to more serious and engaging learning.

Summary: Under financial strain from their baby Rafael’s therapy needs, the Fragers weigh the pros and cons of moving to a different community. Tzipora is loath to leave her family, mentors, and lifelong friends in Baltimore, who give her the warmth and support she feels she needs to raise her son. She finally agrees to move after realizing that he would benefit greatly from the resources in the New York area.

Our move to Elizabeth, New Jersey, was good in the sense that it indeed provided excellent services for Rafael. However, Elizabeth in 1980 was a smaller community than it is today, and lacked the community resources a young family needed. For instance, there were no welcoming committees for new couples. I was extremely disappointed, because in Baltimore new families were welcomed by N’shei and the Ner Israel Service League. Shul was a major place to meet people, but since Elizabeth was also sans eruv, I was unable to attend on Shabbos morning unless I could locate a babysitter. (Although Baltimore also did not have an eruv at the time of our departure, I had family who came to me, and I had longtime friends, so I didn’t have to cultivate new ones.)

With Pesach approaching, the pace quickens. I always lose five pounds in the two weeks before Yom Tov, just from the nervous energy expended in getting out the chometz and bringing in the Pesach.

My mother-in-law, the Bluzever Rebbetzin, z”l, used to just wave away the tension. “My hardest Pesach was in Bergen-Belsen,” she used to say. “There it was hard to get rid of the chometz. After all, that’s all we had to eat…”

What was it like to make Pesach in Bergen-Belsen, not just one year, but two years – two years of a progressively worsening situation? This is the tale we retell every Pesach.

Talk about a generation gap! I’m old enough to be their zaidy, yet we learn side by side. Let me explain how, at 61, I cast my lot with 16 year olds. No, the age inversion is not a dyslexic reading of the application. Rather, at my age, I am beyond taking myself too seriously – but I do take learning Torah seriously. I had heard about a retired physician who attended a yeshiva high school in town, and decided that I, too, could swallow my pride to study with those a quarter my age. It’s like owning up to being dumb, but, as the Chinese say, “One can ask a dumb question and be embarrassed for five minutes, or not ask the question and live in ignorance for the rest of one’s life.” Or, more aptly, “Lo habayshan lomed – The one who is bashful doesn’t learn.” (Pirkei Avos 2:6)

Ah, Pesach around the corner. For a recovering clutteraholic, it is actually a wonderful spur for making headway into a never-ending pursuit of a clutter-free life. I’m not talking here about things that matter, that we use, or we truly enjoy and derive pleasure from. I’m referring to “stuff,” those things that sit around in every nook and cranny, that have lost their reason for being, that we have become mind-blind to even seeing anymore! Things that lurk and encroach on our physical spaces and intrude on our domestic peace and sense of well being.

Last month, as I began engaging