Dear Shlomo, 

I come from a family of high achievers, and I don’t seem to be able to do what they do. I always fall short and then get angry at myself. This makes me really tense and anxious, and I end up sleeping a lot because I am so worn out from being so angry at myself.

Yaakov

Everyone enjoys a shidduch story, and the Where What When has asked me to start off their new column with a few of my shidduch experiences over the past many years. The new column, “Dating Perspectives,” will take the place of “Ask the Shadchan” and will feature a different writer each month.

The couples in the stories below may recognize themselves, but readers will not. They will, however, hopefully be entertained.

by Talia Beyidna

The Chayei Adam[1] teaches, “If one has had a miracle performed to save him, and even more so, if a city has had a miracle that saved it, they have the right to institutionalize a Purim for that city and to authorize a festive meal that would become a mitzva, in order to memorialize the wonders of Hashem.”[2] In fact, the author himself decreed on his family a day of prayer and celebration after the Vilna fort’s gunpowder magazine exploded in 1803.[3] A significant part of the neighborhood (and his house) was leveled, and yet, with Hashem’s kindness, his entire family pulled through and survived. This has become known as the Gunpowder Purim.

The Jews of Egypt commemorated an event in 1524, when the governor of Egypt threatened to massacre them because they refused to join him in a revolt against the Sultan of Turkey, who at that time ruled Egypt. On the day he vowed to murder all the Jews in Cairo right after he had finished taking his bath, he was stabbed to death in the bathhouse by one of his junior officers, and the massacre was averted. A megilla was written to tell the story and is read in Egyptian synagogues on what is known as Purim Cairo on the 28^th of Adar.

When I moved to Baltimore in 1979, you could count the number of shuls on one or two hands. If a fellow congregant didn’t show up for a minyan, you worried. I venture to say the number of shuls have quadrupled, at least, are bursting at the seams. Many of them have expanded or are in the midst of expansion. Nowadays, there is no need to worry if Tom, Dick, Moshe, or Miriam are not in shul. No doubt, they are at another local shul enjoying a simcha!

In this multi-part series, I’ve polled local shul-goers and asked, “What is your favorite shul and why?” Here are some of their answers.

As Purim quickly approaches, I find myself struggling with many conflicting emotions. Normally I would be concentrating on a Purim shpiel or at least a satirical commentary focusing on current events, but the ongoing war in Israel, coupled with threats to Jews everywhere and the pain and trauma of so many Israeli families weighs heavily on me. At the same time, I’m trying to emotionally reconcile advertisements for all kinds of expensive and over-the-top Purim delicacies and treats as well as exotic Pesach programs, offering every type of food, fun, and entertainment.

I was recently at a Shabbos table where the age-old question of “what kind of work do you do?” came up. I can usually understand the answers to these questions, especially when they have to do with professions with which I have some familiarity. Unfortunately, the majority of the people at this Shabbos table worked in computers. Not having any idea of what they were talking about, I asked a few questions. Unfortunately, even after I asked for clarification, I still had no idea what was going on. Not one to shirk my responsibility to broaden my horizons, I decided I would hop on the computer after Shabbos and google the daylights out of the terms they used. Unfortunately, the only one I could remember was “coding.” I figured that was a good start.

Rav BenZion Chayim Shloime Twerski, zt”l, was the oldest of five very esteemed brothers: the late well-known prolific Torah author and psychiatrist Rabbi Dr. Avraham Twerski; Rabbi Motel Twerski of Flatbush and, yibadlu lechayim, the Milwaukee Hornosteipel Rebbe Rav Michel Twerski, shlit”a; and law professor Rabbi Aharon Twerski, shlit”a.

I first met Rav Shloime in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, when I spent the summer there on a SEED program. He was there for a Shabbos in honor of the yahrzeit of his father, a rebbe who had served for many, many decades as rav of a shul in Milwaukee.? My kesher with Rav Shloime deepened a few years later, when I was in kollel in Baltimore and his son-in-law, Rabbi Yitzchok (Itchie) Lowenbraun, and his wife Miriam (zichronam livracha) regularly ran kiruv Shabbatons. Rabbi Lowenbraun asked if my wife and I would like to join them on a Shabbaton. We did, and after that we began seeing Rav Shloime regularly, as he came in several times a year for these Shabbatons.

A few weeks ago, the podcast “Living L’Chaim” interviewed a rabbi from Lakewood who was lamenting materialism. He said that he once gave some teenagers a ride to the airport for winter break and overheard one tell the other, “Going to Florida is really dumb but you can’t stay in Lakewood for winter vacation.”

It is well known that winter break has turned into head-to-Florida season. Now I am sure that going to Florida can make sense and be a good choice in some instances. But whenever I sense that something is becoming a fad, I become a little skeptical. One thing is for sure: Whether summer, spring, fall, or winter, if you are heading to the theme parks, you will be paying a lot for a man-made attraction.

I am by no means or stretch of the imagination a professional organizer. Occasionally, I pretend to be one as organizing, thank G-d, is something that has always come easily to me. Ask my childhood friends about the way I used to enter their hurricane-wreckage bedrooms and leave them spick-and-span – as if Mary Poppins herself had paid a visit. As someone who is tidy by nature, I am here to offer some suggestions, recommendations, and advice related to the oh-so-daunting holiday prep that is Pesach.

I first met Shaul on Chol Hamoed Pesach. I came from New York with a busload of students on our way to Washington for a Pirchei trip, with a stopover at Ner Yisroel in Baltimore. While waiting for our room assignments, I decided to visit the beis medrash. It was approximately 1:00 a.m. The lights were off with the exception of one small light. There, sitting at a table, was one person totally engrossed in his learning. He did not even look up to see who had entered the beis medrash at that hour. I was very impressed, to say the least.

Years later, when I came to Ner Yisroel, I found out that the person who was so engrossed in his learning was Shaul Epstein.