A Tehillim rally recently held in the
Tamir Hotel was attended by hundreds of women. Aside from
being inspired by the speeches delivered, we were deeply
moved to be part of some fifty rounds of the complete Sefer
Tehillim jointly said by the audience, rather, the
participants -- for we did not only come to `hear' but to `be
heard'. One of the messages presented was: Why start the
good `habit' of Tehilim when the going is rough when you can
be close to Hashem EVERY DAY, when thing are normal!
by C. L.
A mashgiach in a prominent yeshiva
once approached R' Moshe Aharon Stern zt'l, mashgiach
of Yeshivas Kamenitz in Jerusalem, upon one of his frequent
trips to America. He had a delicate problem; one of his
talmidim was extremely introverted and would not
relate to any of the students or to his rebbeim. A
closed book. No one could reach him.
The Mashgiach -- R' Moshe Aharon
by R' Y. M. Stern (Available in both
English and Hebrew)
Reviewed by L.M.W.
A friend of mine was going through her nine-year-old son's
schoolbag and happened to flip open one of his notebooks. To
her dismay, she discovered a full page of "I won't talk
during davening." Not willing to jump down his throat
with an accusation, she mulled over how to confront him.
Finally, she asked, "Don't you need a parent's signature on
by Chedva Sternfeld
Pears are in season now, not expensive, very healthful, and
they make an excellent dessert. 100 gram pears contain only
42 calories, just like apples.
A poet without inspiration is like a caged sparrow
Awaiting its liberation.
He paces the room, frustrated,
Hoping that soon his masterpiece will be created.
But his mind is dry,
His soul is unable to fly.
And then, he is gripped by sudden pain,
It seems his efforts have been in vain.
Out creeps the doubt,
"Forget it, my friend, it's a drought.
Admit it! You've run out of ideas."
Time to face the worst of fears.
Down come pouring his salty tears.
His dreams of cheers,
Become self sneers.
"Oh, Master of inspiration, I beg You,
Open up Your treasure chest.
Help a poet on his quest.
A drop, a drizzle,
A strong stream of the powerful word..."
Now he is on his way to conquer all worlds.
The sparrow in the anguished soul is at long last
Free, spreading its wings, flying,
Reaching heights worth admiring.
His creation is perfect,
The painful struggle was worth it.
His eyelids closed, the poet dozed.
Soft, bright rays of sunshine stroked his face,
Awakening the fatigued poet to his endless race.
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