Category Archives: stories

My role as a pick-up artist

I often find myself picking up candy wrappers, seforim, and the occasional napkin or fork during kiddush on Shabbos. At times, I’ve even, with a simple greeting of, “Good Shabbos Kodesh”, picked up the ears of those that I pass in the street. I make a point to also pick up garbage in front of an inside my children’s day school when I am there, as well. It is an issue of Kavod HaTorah. The Holy Hunchback, I’m not, but I try.

In Kelm the talmidim fought for the coveted position of being able to clean the Talmud Torah of Kelm and even to take out the garbage (usually a job for the oldest bochruim).

My kids know that if they are walking though shul with me and see a Dum Dum wrapper on the ground that either I’ll pick it up myself or ask them to. They don’t mind picking it up, because were they not there, they know that I’d be the one throwing it away.

I cannot stop people (usually kids) from carelessly throwing candy wrappers on the ground. However, I can make sure that the shul where I daven is fairly clean, if newcomers, guests, or non-observant Jews come by.

Rav Mordechai Eliyahu and my brush with greatness

The former Chief Sephardic Rabbi of Eretz Yisrael (know as the Rishon l’Tzion) Rav Mordechai Eliyahu was niftar on Monday, June 7th (yesterday).  I’m not Sephardic, but he was a true Talmud Chacham and an Adom Gadol.
I was zoche to have not only met him once, but daven with him (well, in the same shul) and even had a lunch on Sukkos with him.  In 1989/90 I spent my first year learning (if you could call it that) in E”Y.  A close friend of mine came in for Sukkos and we stayed in his apartment, which was several flights above the Rishon l’Tzion’s in Kiryat Moshe.

My friend, who is Sephardic, and his family were actually very close with Rav Eliyahu and we were invited to come downstairs to his sukkah for lunch (on what was my first day of Yom Tov).  Throughout the meal he welcomed guest after guest, it was non-stop.  He was friendly and truly “received everyone cheerfully”.  For me it was a fairly quite meail, since I wasn’t fluent in Hebrew.  Rav Eliyahu’s wife offered me a side-dish, I think it might have been some type of spicy carrots and I thought I would be super-slick and decided that I only wanted “a little”, so I proudly said:  Katan, b’vakasha.
She smiled, realizing that I REALLY didn’t know Hebrew and she attempted to explain to me that I should have used the word “ktzat” instead of “katan“.  I sort of got the drift of what she was teaching me, but more importantly, I wasn’t embarassed or made to feel like I knew nothing.

After lunch Rav Eliyahu had someone go into his living room and bring out a beautiful book with amazing photos of different shuls in E”Y. The Rishon L’Tzion then had me sit next to him and he spent about 20 minutes going through the book with me and telling me the locations of each shul.  I felt so honored that he would invite me into his sukkah, let alone spend his precious time with me.  Despite the language barrier between us, the sensitivity and creative way he used to engage me as stayed with me over the years.  My oldest child knows this story, not because his abba once had a meal with the “Chief Sephardic Rabbi”, but because it illustrates true Gadlus in how to interact with a person and make them feel special.  That, to me, is one of the traits of a true Adom Gadol.

(A summary of this post was originally left as a comment here)

Amazing post about Reb Aryeh Levin zt"l

(Photo from here)

Micha Berger wrote an amazing post about Reb Aryeh Levin on his blog, Aspaqlaria.  It’s worth the visit and is worth printing out.
Here’s a passage that I loved:

Rav Aryeh Levin’s “job” was as a mashgiach at a children’s school, Etz Chaim. That meant not only his formal duties. It meant sharing his food with the boys who couldn’t afford regular lunches. It meant bringing food for his own home for the boys who weren’t eating lunch regularly because they simply didn’t like the fare the school could afford to serve.

There’s also three other posts about Reb Aryeh here

Guest post from Yosef Hakhen- Stories about Stories about Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach‏

Sage Stories from the Radical Neighborhood:

Introduction:

Maimonides writes that one form of beloved speech is “to praise those who are great and to speak of their positive attributes so that their manner of behavior will find favor with human beings, and they will follow in their ways.” (Commentary on Mishnah Pirkei Avos 1:17)

Dear Friends,

In the previous letter – “A Radical New Neighborhood” – I mentioned that the chareidi neighborhood of Shaarei Chesed has also served as the home of leading sages of the 20th century. In this letter, I will share with you some stories about one of these sages, Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, whose yahrtzeit – the 20th of Adar – was on the Shabbos that we just experienced. Some of our leading sages, including Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, were called by the intimate and respectful title “Reb”; thus, he was often referred to as Reb Shlomo Zalman.

He was born on the 23rd of Tamuz 5670 (1910) to Rav Chaim Yehudah Leib and Tzivya Auerbach. Both his father and his mother were descended from well-established and learned Jerusalem families. His father, Rav Chaim Yehudah Leib, was considered one of the luminaries of his era in the secrets of the Torah; moreover, he was the founder and head of Yeshiva Sha’ar HaShamayim, where Kabbalah was studied.

The Jerusalem of Rav Shlomo Zalman’s youth was characterized by poverty and deprivation, especially during World War I. Food was so scarce that he seldom had any lunch, and he would occasionally eat a slice of stale bread and a bit of halvah for dinner. His solitary meal of the day consisted of a bowl of watery soup; hunger was his constant companion.

He became a leading authority on the “halacha” – the requirements of the Torah path, and he also became the head of Yeshiva Kol Torah, a noted chareidi yeshiva. Once, when giving a shiur (lesson/lecture) at Kol Torah, he noticed that a particular student was absent. The boy’s study partner reported that the young man was a bit under the weather. Rav Shlomo Zalman then remarked:
“When I was young, if I had closed my Gemara (book of the Talmud) every time I felt slightly ill, I never would have learned at all.”

Rev Shlomo Zalman was a warm and loving person; moreover, he was very calm and patient. He once told someone, however, that as a boy, he was quick to anger and became irritated easily; thus, he worked on himself to become a calm and patient person. These good qualities increased his ability to guide and help others.

In 5690 (1930), he married Chaya Rivkah Ruchamkin, whose father was a rav who was a well-known Jerusalem educator. After the wedding, Rav Shlomo Zalman and his wife lived in the house of her parents, and the entire family ate their meals together. Although Rav Shlomo Zalman became a leading sage, he did not sit at the head of the table – even after Rav Ruchamkin’s passing. He maintained that the seat at the head of the table was reserved for the person who now led the family, his elderly mother-in-law. She, however, was very weak due to her advanced years, and she was not able to take her meals with the family in the dining room; nevertheless, out of respect for her, Rav Shlomo Zalman still refused to sit at the head of the table. In general, he was very devoted to his mother-in-law, and he showed her great honor.

Rav Shlomo Zalman used his Torah wisdom to wisely and warmly guide people during periods of sorrow and crisis. The following story can serve as an example:
When a young married student of his passed away, the student’s family had to make a quick decision about where he should be buried. They had the option of selecting a single plot that was available in an area of the cemetery where some of their distinguished ancestors were interred, or alternatively, they could purchase a double plot in a different area, so that his widow, after her “one hundred and twenty years,” could be laid to rest in the vacant site adjacent to his. They consulted Rav Shlomo Zalman, and he ruled that the student should be buried in the single plot near his ancestors and relatives. As he later explained, his rationale for the decision in this particular case was that buying the double lot would place an unfair emotional burden on the young widow. The woman had every right to remarry; however, if there was a burial plot waiting for her alongside her deceased husband, she would always be plagued with the thought that perhaps it was inappropriate for her to remarry, as she would feel that she had a commitment to her husband – to lie at his side after she passed away.

Although Rav Shlomo Zalman was a leading sage and a head of Yeshiva Kol Torah, he insisted on riding the city bus like anyone else. This was despite the protests of the yeshiva administration and others who wanted him to have a driver. On one of his bus rides, a woman who was dressed very immodestly suddenly sat down in the seat next to him. He then rang the bell and got off at the next stop, even though his destination was several stops away. Someone later asked him why he didn’t simply stand in the aisle until he arrived at his stop. He explained that had he had gotten up and stood in the aisle right after the woman sat down, she might have felt hurt or embarrassed that he did not continue to sit next to her, and he did not want to cause any distress to this “daughter of Israel.”

In his older years, he allowed himself to go by taxi or to have others drive him to and from the yeshiva. Yeshiva Kol Torah became established in the Jerusalem neighborhood of Bayit Vegan, and he often traveled with the drivers of Hapisgah cab service in Bayit Vegan. One driver at Hapisgah noted that Rav Shlomo Zalman always sat up front, alongside the driver, instead of in the back seat. The driver said:
“I sensed that he didn’t want me to feel like his servant or his chauffeur, you know? And he’d talk to me about my family and like that.”
The dispatcher at Hapisgah had this to add:
“One day I was taking my turn behind the wheel, and I picked up Reb Shlomo Zalman over at Kol Torah. As usual, he climbed into the front seat and greeted me, calling me his manhig (leader). I tried to explain to him that in Hebrew the word for ‘driver’ is nahag and that although the two words have the same root, manhig means ‘leader.’ I figured he was more accustomed to speaking Yiddish, so he wasn’t aware of the subtleties of Hebrew grammar. But no – Reb Shlomo Zalman insisted that I was his manhig because I would ‘lead’ him to his destination. It was such a small thing, and yet it made me feel great. This important Rav considered me his manhig!” (The driver was unaware that Rav Shlomo Zalman and all the teachers at Yeshiva Kol Torah taught in Hebrew.)

Rav Yehohsua Neuwirth, a famous Torah scholar who lives in Bayit Vegan, explained that Rav Shlomo Zalman believed that money was not adequate compensation for services rendered; it was essential to also treat the providers of such services with extreme courtesy and to show a genuine interest in their work and in them as individuals.

Rav Shomo Zalman was known for his many acts of loving-kindness, including his visits to hospitals and homes for the elderly, and he was also known for his great devotion to “tzedakah” – the sharing of our resources with those in need; in fact, many people gave him tzedekah money to distribute as he saw fit.

He was especially known for his devotion to the needs of widows and orphans, and there were cases where he acted as a surrogate father for orphans. The following story can serve as an example:
A Torah-committed man whose wife was about to give birth called the ambulance, but when the ambulance arrived, the man suddenly died. The ambulance staff tried to revive him, and they brought him to the hospital, but all the efforts to revive him did not succeed. His wife was also brought to the hospital where she gave birth to a baby boy. She sent a messenger to Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach to ask whether she could name the baby after his father. Instead of replying through the messenger, Rav Shlomo Zalman went immediately to the hospital to speak with the bereaved woman. He arrived at the maternity ward, and his comforting presence and sensitive words helped to raise her spirits. After hearing the details of her husband’s passing, he told her she could name the boy after her husband. In addition, he told the mother, who also had other children at home, that he intended to serve as a ‘father” to her children, and he requested that she inform him of any problem that might arise. As the children were growing up, Rav Shlomo Zalman was attentive to their spiritual and physical needs, and he also helped the mother to remarry and begin a new life.

Rav Shlomo Zalman had a deep and abiding love for Eretz Yisrael and especially for Yerushalayim – Jerusalem. He was a true Yerushalmi with passionate and enduring ties to the city where he was born and raised, and where he lived his entire life.

According to his view, one should not react at a wedding with an immediate “Mazel Tov” upon the breaking of the glass under the chuppah (wedding canopy), for this custom commemorates the destruction of Jerusalem’s Holy Temple. He maintained that we should first pause and reflect on the destruction. After the pause, the wishing of “Mazel Tov” would then be appropriate, for it would encourage the couple and not allow them to dwell upon sadness at their moment of joy. At wedding ceremonies, when the glass was broken under the chuppah, Rav Shlomo Zalman would recite the following verse from the Book of Psalms:
“If I forget you O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its skill. Let my tongue adhere to my palate, if I fail to remember you, if I fail to elevate Jerusalem above my foremost joy.” (Psalm 137:5.6)

Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach was loved and respected by people in all the Torah-committed communities. For example, many people in the National Religious communities consulted with this chareidi sage, and he had a warm relationship with them. When Rav Shlomo Zalman passed away on 20 Adar, 5755, the local police estimated that at least 300,000 people attended the levaya (funeral). Other sources reported a turnout of nearly 500,000.
Many secular-oriented Jews, who had never heard his name, wanted to know why Rav Shlomo Zalman merited such respect. Newspaper reporters searched through their secular encyclopedias and computerized archives for information about him; however, the encyclopedias did not mention him at all, while his name appeared in the archives of the Ha’aretz newspaper a few times, but merely incidentally.
This oversight stunned the reporters, who were ashamed of their ignorance. Candidly, Tom Segev of Ha’aretz admitted:
“The thoughts of the great halachic authorities of the Torah world are not included in the curricula of secular Israeli schools. But those thoughts are one facet of Israeli identity that I prefer not to forego.”

As the Prophets of Israel taught us, it is the Torah – the Divine Teaching – that defines our national identity. May all of our brethren rediscover this spiritual identity, and may we soon experience the complete fulfillment of the following prophecy: “For from Zion will go forth Torah and the Word of Hashem from Jerusalem” (Isaiah 2:3).

Be Well, and Shalom,

Yosef Ben Shlomo Hakohen

In this letter, I cited a ruling of Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach regarding a burial plot. This ruling was for this particular case with its particular circumstances; thus, it should not automatically be applied to other situations which “seem” siimilar, but which may differ in certain ways. This is why all such questions need to be brought to a competent halachic authority.

Additional Stories and Comments:

1. Reb Michel Gutfarb served as Rav Shlomo Zalman’s main assistant for his tzedekah activities. When Reb Michel Gutfarb was hospitalized for treatment of a serious condition, Rav Shlomo Zalman not only become involved with helping his assistant; the Rav would also call his assistant’s home every other night to find out how Mrs. Gutfarb was doing.
The strain she was under was taking its toll, but the voice on the line announcing, “This is Shlomo Zalman Auerbach,” always lifted her spirits.

2. On his way home from the synagogue one brisk morning, Rav Shlomo Zalman encountered a jogger clad in “sweats” and running shoes, pounding the pavement of Shaarei Chesed, a sheen of perspiration glistening on his face in the Jerusalem sunlight. The jogger was Rav Berel Wein, a well-known rabbi and historian from the United States. The visiting rabbi was somewhat abashed at meeting this leading Torah sage while wearing his jogging clothes. He silently hoped to retain his anonymity, but he of course greeted Rav Shlomo Zalman with appropriate deference. Rav Shlomo Zalman, however, recognized him and returned his greeting. In order to alleviate the jogging rabbi’s embarrassment, Rav Shlomo Zalman remarked with a smile: “Nu, nu, one’s health is also important!”
(Rav Berel Wein now lives in Jerusalem.)

3. Most of the information in the above letter is from the moving biography of Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach by Hanoch Teller. The title is, “And from Jerusalem, HIS WORD.” The book has been distributed by Feldheim, and it is available from the author: www.hanochteller.com . When you visit this website, press down on “books” and scroll down for information about this biography. The information includes the cover of the book which has a beautiful picture of Reb Shlomo Zalman with his warm smile.

4. I also took some information from an essay about Rav Shlomo Zalman which appears in Volume 2 of “In Their Shadow” – a Hebrew work by Rav Shlomo Lorincz, a leading and respected community activist who also served as a member of Israel’s Knesset.
In this work, Rav Lorincz writes about the leading Torah sages who guided or influenced him. Volume 1 has been translated into English by Feldheim, and an English translation of Volume 2 is scheduled to appear. For further information on this inspiring work, visit: http://www.feldheim.com/ .

5. In my research for this article, I came across an informative article about the life of Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach which appears on the following site: http://www.tzemachdovid.org/gedolim/ravauerbach.html . This article also mentions the occasions when Rav Shlomo Zalman felt a Torah obligation to take a strong public stand on certain issues.

Hazon – Our Universal Vision: www.shemayisrael.com/publicat/hazon

Food for thought

Before Rav Shimon Schwab left Europe he went spent Shabbos with the Chofetz Chaim in Radin. Shabbos night a group of students came over to the home of the Chofetz Chaim and he said:
We know the mun had the ability to take on whatever taste we wanted it to. What happened when the person eating the mun didn’t think about what he wanted it to taste like?
The Chofetz Chaim answered his own question: Then it simply has no taste.



This gets me every time. It’s one of my favorite d’vrei Torah. If I don’t think about my Avodas Hashem, then it has no taste. If I don’t appreciate the people my family, it’s like they don’t exist. How often does my learning or mitzvah performance seem like tasteless mun?


I know that I go through the motions quite often.  I’m aware of it and I attempt to work on it.  I’m sure that Rav Schwab heard the words of the Chofetz Chaim and it also gave him food for thought.


I often, especially lately, will see or read something and it hits me in the face.  Most recently, it was comic in the Forward that has become a bit of a bee in people’s bonnets.  I chose to contact the artist and got his side of the story.  If perception is everything, then we as a Torah observant community have our work cut out for us.  To eat the mun and not taste it, is up there with feeding the mun to someone else and they only tasting something bitter.


(The beginning of this post was originally posted here)

Spoons, sugar, Chelm, and me

Last night my son and I were talking and he mentioned a book he saw in his school library about the “Wise Men of Chelm”.  He told me one story (the one about the bell that signals the town’s fire brigade) and I, in turn told him the following:

The was once a debate in Chlem about which item actually makes tea taste sweeter: the Sugar or the Spoon.
One side held that it was the sugar because when you pour the sugar in your cup of tea and stir it, the sugar will disappear. When you can’t see the sugar then your tea is sweetened.
Now the other side believed that the tea would be sweetened by the spoon itself. The sugar’s only purpose was so that one would know how long to stir. When the sugar had dissolved then the spoon would have sufficiently sweetened the cup of tea.



My son thought this story was hilarious.  He told me that it was funny because even though everyone knows sugar makes thing sweet, in then end it really doesn’t make a difference, as long as you like sweetened tea.  He went on to bed and I kept think about this story.

People like stories that point out the silliness of others.  It’s the same reason we might laugh when we see someone trip or slip on the ice.  It makes us feel better about ourselves.  It doesn’t make us better people, though.  Like those in Chelm, I know that I tend to get confused about what is causing certain things to happen.  I’m lucky that my wife usually points this out to me.  Focusing too much on the spoon blinds you from seeing what is truly sweet in life.  (For the record, this last line too about 4 different rewrites).


“Ben Zoma would say: Who is wise? One who learns from every man.”- Pirkei Avos (4:1)

The Koach of Torah

Today marks the 8th Yartzeit of Rav Ahron Soloveichik z”tl.
In the fall of 1989, I was a freshmen at YU.  As I recall classes had been barely going on for even a week and I saw a flyer in my dorm about a shiur on Lecture about “Hilchos Teshuva”.

I was fresh out of public school and had been observant for just over two years, at the time. Through my high school involvement with NCSY I had heard the name “Soloveichik” (although usually in reference to the Rav, who spelled it “Soloveitchik) quite a bit and had even read an article written by Rav Ahron regarding a Jew’s place in non-Jewish socieity. I was curious what this “Rabbi Ahron Soloveichk” was like and figured it would be cool thing to hear him lecture (the term “shiur” wasn’t in my vocabulary back then).

I showed up a few minutes early, which was easy since the lecture took place in the “shul” in my dorm building, and took a front row seat. Slowly the chairs filled up. I recall seeing a lot of older YU guys, probably semicha students. Slowly, I heard mumbling and some commotion from the back of the room, as two gentlemen escorted an elderly man who was using a walker, the Rav Ahron Soloveichik.

To me he looked frail and I remember being inpressed that he was able to use a walker, despite having had a stroke in 1983. Slowly he made his way to the table in the front of ths shul. The two men who accompanied him helped Rav Ahron transition from the walker to the seat at the table. Again, the one word that came mind was “frail”.

It is commonly know that even if one doesn’t understand a language, it is very possible that you can get an idea of what a speaker is talking about by emotions that come through in the spoken word. Rav Ahron’s shiur on “Hilchos Teshuva” was given in English, my native language, but I really didn’t understand much of it, I sadly admit. Based on my background at the time, most of the quotes from the Rambam and, what must have been, the brilliant analysis on the part of Rav Ahron were really lost on me. I did, however, take away something just as meaningful and memorable.

When Rav Ahron Soloveichik sat down at that table to begin his shiur, he was hunched down with head just about at the height of the table. As he started speaking his voice was soft, but as he continued his voice got stronger. Almost in sync with the strength of his voice, with each word of Torah that came from his lips, he seemed to start sitting more and more upright. He started moving his arms as he spoke and became animated. By the middle of the shiur his voice was booming and he seem to be sitting fully erect. It was almost like a different person was speaking. As I’ve looked back over the years at this incident, I realized that what I had witnessed was the true Koach of Torah.

Learning Torah and being able to teach Torah changes a person. For Rav Ahron Soloveichik Torah was a lifeline, I saw that with my own eyes! It connected him and gave him incredible strength. I was zoche to see that evening that the Torah wasn’t simply something that we took out three times a week from the Aron Kodesh, nor was a collection of stories, teachings, or laws. The term, “Toras Chaim” comes to mind. The Torah is a living Torah and Rav Ahron both received strength from it and used that strength to give over the Torah to future generations.

May his neshma have an aliyah.

How to open the heart

In a shiur I recently downloaded (thanks to Hirhurim‘s Joel Rich)  given by Rabbi Benji Levene, a grandson of Reb Aryeh Levin, I heard the following story. Rabbi Levene once asked his zaide, “How did you manage to open up so many chilonim, non-relgious people, to relate to other people and open their hearts to so many beautiful things in Yiddishkeit? What was your mazel?”

Reb Aryeh answered:
There was one a son and a father that came to a rebbe and they were holding a winter coat that they owned.
The father said, “Rebbe, we have a coat. One coat only that we own. Coming winter now, I need the coat, I’m an old man. I need to have this coat. My son doesn’t feel the cold the way that I do.
The son said, “Rebbe, my father sits home the whole day and I go out and bring in parnassah. I go out in the cold, he’s at home. I need this coat.

The rav is left with a problem. He can’t say “cut it in half” because then they both won’t have a coat. He has to give them an answer, though. He thinks for a minute and says, “I’ll give you an answer tomorrow. Come back tomorrow, but when you come back each of you needs to take the other person’s side. Then I’ll give you an answer.”

They came back the next day with the coat and the father tells the rebbe, “I have a coat and it belongs to my son.”
The son then says, “I have a coat and it belongs to my father.”
The rav opens his closet to reveal a coat hanging there. The rebbe says, “It’s no problem, you both have a coat for the winter.”

The father looks at the coat and says, “Rebbe can I ask you one more question? When we were here yesterday, was that coat in the closest?” The rebbe answers that it was in closet yesterday.
“So why didn’t you give it to us yesterday? Why did we have to come back today?”

The rebbe replied, “You don’t understand. When you came to me yesterday and the father said, “I have a coat and it’s mine” and the son said. “I have a coat and it’s mine”, I thought, “I also have a coat in the closet and it’s mine.”
“When you came to me today and the father says, “I have a coat and it’s his”, and the son says, “I have a coat and it’s his”, I said to myself, “I have a coat and it’s yours.”

Rabbi Levene concludes, “If you want to open up another person’s heart to yours, then open your heart to that other person. You will see how wonderful, how much magic there will be in the way that other person will open up their heart to yours.” (End of story)

Aside from being a great story for anyone in kiruv or chinuch, I think as a husband and a parent, I will try in the upcoming year to really keep this story in mind. When the uniform clothes that were picked out (and aggreeded upon) prior to going to bed are not exactly what my daughter wants to wear when she wakes up or my son tells me that other kids go to bed much later than he does, I will try to put myself there and open my heart a bit wider.

Shut up and read this (or "How to use nice words")

An Adam Gadol is given this title because he is great.  Great in Torah, great in Middos, great in making everything he or she does into Avodas Hashem.  I recently read the following at chabad.org  regarding the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s style of writing:

It is clear from the Rebbe’s editing patterns that talking and writing positively are always an imperative. Apparently because positive writing has a beneficial influence on the reader’s thought process.


This particular response – actually an edit – that I unearthed was penned by the Rebbe on the margins of a letter drafted by one of the Rebbe’s secretaries (based on the Rebbe’s dictation) for a dinner that was to take place on the day after Passover. The Rebbe writes on the draft: “!!!סגנון דהיפך הטוב הוא” “the wording is the opposite of good!!!”*
Here is the text the Rebbe was referring to:
Had the Jewish children in Egypt not received a Jewish education … there would be no one to liberate…


The Rebbe wrote in Hebrew how the text should be corrected—and this is the way it was translated and appeared in the final version:
…it is only because the Jewish children in Egypt received the proper Jewish education… our whole Jewish people… was liberated from Egyptian slavery…


*Note that the Rebbe wrote “the opposite of good”—another hallmark of the Rebbe’s, never to say or write the word commonly used to connote “the opposite of good.”

I found this very interesting, because the importance of how we speak is also illustrated in the following excerpt from the biography of Rav Dessler:

Rabbi Nachum Vevel [Rav Dessler’s son] Dessler’s childhood memories of this maternal grandmother Rebbetzin Peshe Ziv [the Alter of Kelm’s daughter-in-law] provide some glimpse of the rareifed atmosphere in which his mother was raised.  He once refused to eat the food his grandmother offered him, complaining that the plate was shmutzik (dirty).  His grandmother told him that she would be happy to offer him another plate, but that he must not talk like that.  “We do not say the plate is dirty,” she said.  “We say that the plate is not clean.”

The young boy could barely comprehend what his grandmother was talking about, and replied, “But everyone speaks like that.”  His grandmother was unfazed.  “That may be,” she said, “but you come from a long line of people who do not talk like that.”

Negativity breeds negativity.  Saying something in a positive way probably requires thought, at times.  It’s easier to say that “the soup went bad” than to say “the soup isn’t good”.    A refined way of phrasing something can make all the difference.