First Kiss

Do you remember your first Kiss?

My son who is approaching 14 months this Shabbat, learned to "Kiss" for the first time. Of course we smother him with kisses, but we are trying to teach him to kiss us. "Hillel, come give Mommy Kiss". So far not too much luck.

Until last night! I was holding Hillel by the doorway as we watched Mom drive off to run a couple of errands. As my wife pulled away, Hillel reached out and touched our Mezuzah then kissed his fingers with a loud smack. Obviously he has seen us do this on a number of occasions.

What a beautiful "first kiss".

Hear O Israel: G-d is our G-d; G-d is one (Deuteronomy 6:4). Words we recite every morning and evening. They contain the primal statement of what it means to be a Jew: to infuse our entire day and everything we do and possess with G-d's oneness.

It is regarding these words that G-d has commanded us, "And you shall inscribe them on the doorposts of you home, and on your gates". Hence the Mezuzah: a parchment scroll inscribed with the verses of the Shema and affixed to the right doorpost of every room in a Jewish home.

In addition to its role as a declaration and reminder of our faith, the mezuzah is also a symbol of G-d's watchful care over the home and its dwellers. The name of G-d, Sha-dai, which appears on the reverse side of the parchment is an acronym for the Hebrew words which mean "Guardian of the doorways of Israel." The placing of a mezuzah on the doors of a home or office protects the inhabitant--whether they are inside or out

Reconnecting on Yom Kippur

It wasn't kapparos
It wasn't the pre Yom Kippur dip in the Mikvah
It wasn't the meaningful fast
It wasn't the chazan's beautiful cantelations.
It wasn't my Rabbi's moving d'var torah.
It wasn't the soul searching Tshuvah filled davening.
It wasn't seeing every chair at my shul filled with people.
It wasn't Kol Nidre
It wasn't the tearful reading of the 10 martyrs.
It wasn't the avodah service.
It wasn't Neilah
It wasn't admiring the sanity of the Torahs dressed in white.

For me this year, Yom Kippur was all about being able to gently convince my Jewish neighbor, that being in shul, and experience Judaism again with a fresh traditional look was the right thing to do on what would have been a "typical Monday in October". It all started when we casually found out She was Jewish, and that her youngest daughter had a desire to "Learn". Not needing to say more, we invite her and her family over for Shabbos dinner before Yom Kippur.

On Yom Kippur, seeing her walk though our shul's doors before we got started with mincha (with her three children) was very moving. After services, hearing how proud she was that her son got an Aliyah, was more then I could have ever hoped for. Baruch Hashem may she and her family return for a Shabbat service.

Sometimes I wonder, if my self imposed exile in Galut is worth it. It's hard for me. Being Shomer Shabbas/Mitzvot and living in an area on Pennsylvania that I'm often mistaken for Amish guy. How much easier and beautiful would it be to live in a Frum Community.

But today, as I put up my sukkah, I contemplate how many Jewish friends I can invite to dine in my sukkah and Shake my Lulav/Esrog. Jewish souls who never experienced a sukkah before. Who have never held, yet alone seen a Lulav/esrog.

If I can get one soul to reconnect... then my self imposed exile is all worth it.