A Prince Among Men

Discovering the secret source of my grandfather’s greatness.

by Reuven Savit for aish.com

As a child, I didn’t particularly enjoy visiting my grandparents. I wanted to play Nintendo or soccer with my friends. I didn't always have a piece of velvet on my head. I was an average kid from Long Island. My grandparents had funny accents and their house smelled like a strange mix of moth balls and chicken soup, and I had other things to do.

My mother would cajole me. “It’s the right thing to do,” would be the first attempt. When that didn’t work, “We’ll go to Toys R Us afterwards” would be the second. And when all else failed she would say, “You know, you are lucky to have grandparents and they won’t live forever. You won't always have grandparents to visit.” And invariably we would make our way to their home.

I didn’t think then that the day would come, but now I don’t have any grandparents to visit.

As I grew older, it became clearer to me that my grandparents had experienced the most unimaginable, inconceivable torture. I don’t know how anyone can come back from that and live a somewhat normal life. Yet they did.

I remember thinking, when I would see my grandfather put on his tefillin, or pray to God, “What are you doing?” “How can you possibly believe in God after what you went through?” “And even if you did believe in God, why would you talk to Him three times a day, fast a few times a year, and do everything else that you are doing for a God who took away your whole family and did this to you?”

Those questions remained with me, albeit in the background, through high school and college.

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Aaron Liberman Makes NCAA Big Ten History

‘Jewish Dwight Howard’ the first player to sport a yarmulke during a game

By Stephanie Butnick for Tablet Magazine

Northwestern University basketball walk-on Aaron Liberman may have only played a single minute in Sunday’s game against the University of Michigan, and Northwestern may have been defeated 74 to 51, but the Orthodox player nicknamed the Jewish Dwight Howard still managed to make college basketball history. He’s the first Big Ten player to ever wear a yarmulke during a game.

Liberman, a graduate of LA’s Valley Torah High School, is the second yarmulke-sporting player in Division I basketball. The other, of course, is Tamir Goodman—the so-called Jewish Jordan—who played briefly for Towson University in the early 2000s (Goodman, who later played for Maccabi Tel Aviv, retired from professional basketball in 2009; he now teaches basketball clinics and has a line of sports-friendly mesh tzitzit).

The college freshman’s growing legend was fueled by a New York Times profile in January, which contrasted his diligent Torah study with his life on the court (plus the requisite tefillin-laying scene). Though the ‘Jewish Dwight Howard’ moniker might be a lot to foist upon a young player (see: Jewish Jordan), Liberman seems to be keeping his cool. And speaking of cool, he apparently has two game-day yarmulkes: purple and white, and purple and black, in keeping with the Wildcats’ color scheme.

Let’s go Wildcats? Let’s go Wildcats.

Why I Refuse to Straighten My Hair

By Florina Rodov for Raising Kvell

Xiomara and Isleidy wiped tears from their eyes, Stacy’s sniffles quickly deteriorated into sobs, and even the boys tried valiantly not to cry. My tough inner city sophomores were viscerally affected by Elie Wiesel’s heartbreaking Holocaust memoir, Night, which we just finished reading. I was about to become a waterfall myself when Stacy blurted out, “Miss, when you gonna blow your hair out?” causing everyone to laugh and lifting the somber mood.

The subject of my hair was a recurring one in class; the girls desperately wanted my wild curls tamed into smooth tresses. They repeatedly offered hairdressers’ numbers, then frustrated by my inaction, took matters into their own hands. One morning, at 7:30 a.m., Xiomara, Isleidy, and Stacy marched into my class while I was getting ready for the day and ambushed me with a flat iron. I almost gave in, since the attack was so well orchestrated, but ultimately hid in the closet until they put the weapon away. When asked why I resisted, I responded with girl power clichés like “Be yourself!” and “Rock what you’ve got,” but because I never meaningfully addressed the issue, the nagging continued.

But now, inspired by my students’ connection to Night, I was ready to dive into history, identity, and why I refuse to straighten my hair.

Interestingly, my Jewish curls are similar to their Dominican ones, but mine are red, while theirs are black. And hair was not the only thing connecting us. Washington Heights, in upper Manhattan, where our high school was located and where most of my students lived, was populated by Dominicans and Jews, yet the two rarely interacted despite a shared history.

I explained that in 1938 President Roosevelt organized a 32-nation conference to address the resettlement of Jewish Holocaust refugees. Only the Dominican Republic was willing to take them in. As a result, over 500 Jews settled in Sosua, a rural area on the north coast of the Caribbean island. Ironically, the Dominican dictator Rafael Trujillo, who had brutally murdered his own people, saved Jews in order to whiten up the dark-skinned population of the country. While Trujillo was pleased with the intermarriages, he must have been disheartened that the curly hair, for the most part, would remain the same.

“Do all Jews have curly hair?” Isleidy asked.

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My Daugher's Bat Mitzvah

How will you make your son's or daughter's significant birthday significant? 

 

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