I received the following note from Devori Kleytman, who asked me to share the story of her father-in-law, Alexander Kleytman, one of the victims of the terrorist attack in Bondi Beach, Australia.
“My beloved father-in-law, Alexander, was 87 years old, a Holocaust survivor whose family fled to Siberia when he was still a child. They endured years of hunger and bitter cold. They survived, and eventually returned to Ukraine.
“Later, Alexander and his wife, Larisa, applied to emigrate to Israel. They were refused. For many long years, they lived as refuseniks, trapped behind the Iron Curtain, longing to leave and longing for Zion.
“Alexander was a man of integrity and a proud Jew. He loved the Land of Israel and the Jewish people. He wrote two books about his Holocaust experiences, and he would often say that we must remember the Holocaust, not only as history, but as a moral obligation, so that we know how to stand up to our enemies.
“He was deeply connected to faith. In recent years, he began wearing a kippah and putting on tefillin.
“Alexander was murdered while doing what he loved most: living as a Jew, among his people. He died while protecting his wife, Larisa, who survived the attack. Alexander and Larisa were devoted to one another for more than fifty years, and they were blessed with children and grandchildren.
“We believe that Alexander’s story is not one that began under Nazi persecution and ended with Islamic terror. His story is about life, love, faith, and holiness. We look forward to continuing his legacy, and we ask anyone reading these words to do one good deed today in memory of Alexander ben Simcha.”
Happy Tu Bishvat!
A teacher once told me that four words, in her opinion, define the times we live in: “I,” “here,” “now,” and “everything.” That is why Tu Bishvat, the festival of trees that begins next Sunday night, is one of the most important days of the year. It stands in quiet opposition to those four words.
It’s notable that Tu Bishvat is celebrated not in spring, but in winter. Not when everything is already blooming and ripening, but specifically when we don’t yet see flowers or fruit. We are not receiving everything here and now. We are investing in what will be.
For now, all we can do is prepare the ground, plant, water, believe, hope…and wait.
Nature teaches us that some of the most important processes are slow and hidden. There is growth beneath the surface. Not everything is visible, not everything is immediate, and that is precisely why we must keep nurturing with patience.
This is true in raising children, in marriage, in every meaningful area of learning and building. It was especially true during the year of Covid, when we went indoors into a kind of hibernation or dormancy, hoping that, from within that quiet, good things would emerge and develop.
In a generation that grows restless after five seconds if two blue check marks don’t appear on WhatsApp, Tu Bishvat returns once a year to remind us of what we truly need: restraint, perseverance, long-term investment, and dedication. These are the qualities that, in the end, produce real growth and ripe fruits.
Parashat B’Shalach: What is your dream?
Once upon a time, there was a king who lived in a palace with his family. The king’s son, the prince, behaved in an inappropriate and unworthy manner until the king decided to banish him from the palace. The prince wandered the streets and deteriorated into poverty and distress.
One day, when the king’s longing for his beloved son grew strong, he asked his servant to search for him and see how he was doing and how he could be helped.
The servant set out and traveled throughout the kingdom. He began in the large cities and wealthy neighborhoods, and eventually reached the poorest places in the realm, far from the palace. There, in the corner of a dark street, he found the prince, hungry and neglected, sitting on the sidewalk, wearing torn clothes, without shoes, begging for alms.
The servant was saddened to see the king’s son like this. He approached him and said, “The king has sent me to you. He misses you and asks to know what you want, what you are lacking.”
The poor prince thought for a moment and said, “You’re asking what I want? Well, I would be very happy to receive a new pair of shoes and a good sandwich.”
The servant looked at him, disappointed. “That’s all? Is that what interests you, such small, temporary things? Have you forgotten that you are the son of a king? You could have asked the king to bring you back to the palace. You could have asked for anything imaginable, and this is what you choose to ask for?”
This story is, of course, a parable about us. In this week’s portion, we leave Egypt, fulfilling a great dream of generations. But it’s not only Pharaoh who must agree; we must want it too.
The Jewish people must dream, aspire, and pray. Dare to move toward a different reality, one that is new and greater. What would we ask the servant for, a sandwich or a palace? What are our dreams, and are they big enough?
Translated by Yehoshua Siskin and Janine Muller Sherr
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