Outstanding Articles From Our Archives

Opinion & Comment
Sylvia Curruca Proclaims "There Is A Borei Olom"

by Joshua Josephson

Part II

Part I of this article looked at some wonders of animal migration and briefly examined the implications of these facts for the theory of evolution. This part continues with an examination of some marvels of animal navigation.

Tristan da Cunha is a group of six small islands named after the largest and northernmost one of the group. The islands lie in the South Atlantic almost four thousand miles south of the equator, and over two thousand miles away from each of the three surrounding continents -- Africa, South American and Antarctica.

The southernmost island of the group, Nightingale, which has an area of less than 38 square miles, lies about 20 miles southwest of Tristan da Cunha. Its coastal cliffs are the nesting site of a sea bird whose common name is the greater shearwater.

These birds feed during the summer months in the North Atlantic, from Newfoundland to Scandinavia. They set out in the autumn from their various feeding areas and fly between 7000 and 8000 miles over featureless ocean to nest on Nightingale.

Though only a tiny dot of land afloat in millions of square miles of virtually empty ocean, several million shearwater somehow find their way to it, unerringly, every single year.

How they manage to converge on this small piece of land is as yet a mystery. This ability appears to be so incredible that one author was prompted to refer to it as a "miracle of navigation."

But as difficult as this capability may seem, it pales in comparison to what some other animals can do. Birds that fly high can at least detect an island from a reasonably great distance. The scope of vision of turtles, however, is surely far less. Nevertheless, turtles too somehow manage to home onto a tiny bit of land awash in the open seas.

Opinion & Comment
The Power of Tzedokoh One mitzva leads to another. The following happened in the days of the Gaon of Vilna

by Yated Staff

It was erev Pesach. The preparations for the seder were in high gear. The Gaon of Vilna would be spending the festival in a small town near Pinsk, but, oblivious to the activity around him, he was occupied in his study. On his calendar, erev Pesach was a regular day, and as soon as he finished his short preparations for the coming festival, he headed for the beis midrash.

It was deserted. Not a single soul seemed to be there. Suddenly, however, the Gaon spied someone ensconced in a hidden corner, enveloped in tallis and tefillin, studying with great fervor. He was unaware that the godol hador was standing nearby, staring at him, wondering that one could be so engrossed in study when everyone was so busy with preparations.

After a few seconds, he approached the man and asked, "Please tell me what you are doing here at such a time?"

The man recognized the famous figure and leaped up in awe. In a small, fearsome voice, he replied, "I really have no permission to tell my story to a soul, but you are surely an exception."

I used to be an incorrigible sinner. I was an informer and worked for the government. Due to my slander, many people met their deaths. Once, on the thirteenth of Nisan, I was walking along when I saw an old man lying in the market, helpless. He was enveloped in a worn straw mat and was weeping as if his heart would break. The Jewish spark in me suddenly flickered up and I approached him and asked why he was weeping. He reminded me that it was erev Pesach but despite all of his efforts, he had not succeeded in raising money for matzos and other necessities for the coming festival. My heart went out to him and I gave him five rubles. I saw his eyes light up and his spirit revive. I know that the sum I gave him was enough for him to celebrate the festival with his family in comfort.

Home and Family
Seder by R' Elchonon Wasserman

English rendition: Sheindel Weinbach

Chapter Twenty-Eight is the second part of a translation done for Yated-English from the book "Halaila Einenu Ofel - The Night is Not Dark", a memoir of her grandfather's early years in the yeshivos of Europe, written by Yehudit Golan, published by Feldheim. [We recommend reading the original in not-too-difficult and very fascinating narrative.]

We previously found young Yitzchok'l (today the noted Rosh Kollel of Etz Yosef, R' Yitzchok Eliyohu Bernstein shlita) in a quandary. His hard-earned money had been confiscated by his brothers and he did not have the fare to return home for Pesach. He buries his woes in intensive study and his diligence is noted by the Rosh Yeshiva, R' Elchonon Wasserman Hy'd, who invites him to his seder. Yitzchok returned to his room, this time alone, to pass the remaining three days before Pesach in study, eating with friends who lived in Baranowitz, among them, Shlomo Levine, who also subsequently became a noted talmid chochom and Mendel Kaplan, today Rosh Yeshivas Heichal HaTorah in America.

Erev Pesach arrived. Baranowitz was transformed into a sparkling clean town in honor of the approaching festival. In all homes, people were bustling with last-minute preparations. Heady spring perfumes mingled with the smells of soap and here and there one could already detect the pleasant smell of food cooking: soup, meat, fish...

Yitzchok'l was anxious. Would R' Elchonon remember his promise? He had extended the invitation two weeks earlier, but nothing had been mentioned in the interim. What if he had forgotten?

Yitzchok'l did not dare ask, nor did he make any provisions for another place for the seder. He, himself, did not have a thing, neither wine nor matzos...

The sun slipped westward and in the yeshiva, maariv was on the threshold. Everyone looked magnificent, like angels. R' Elchonon also took his place.