NOAH 5779

How many of you like to read detective stories? How many of you have ever tried to write a detective story? If you have, then you know that the key to writing a good detective story is that you have to plant enough clues so that the reader has a chance of figuring out who did it, but you must not plant so many clues that it’s no challenge to figure it out.

In today’s Torah portion, Gd is a great detective story-writer. He wants us to get the strong connection between the story of Noah and the story of Jonah—which we just read on Yom Kippur—and so He plants a great number of clues to make us aware of the connections:

1. Both stories deal with storms. In the Noah story there’s a storm so strong that it overwhelms the world. In the Jonah story a storm nearly wrecks the ship on which Jonah is traveling as he tries to run away from Gd.
2. In both stories the hero is saved from the storm by being enclosed in a container—Noah in the ark and Jonah in the belly of a big fish.
3. In both stories there’s enormous sin. In the Noah story, the whole world was evil and corrupt; and in the Jonah story, the whole city of Nineveh was evil and corrupt.

And just in case you don’t get the connection from these clues, Jonah is mentioned in the Noah story and Noah is mentioned in the Jonah story! In the Noah story Noah sends out a dove to see if the flood waters had receded and if it was safe to come out. The Hebrew word for dove is yonah—Jonah! And in the Jonah story the text (3:10) tells us: vayinacheym haElokim al hara (Gd changed His mind and decided not to destroy the city of Nineveh). The word Vayinecheym contains within it the name of Noah!

With all these clues, you don’t have to be a Sherlock Holmes or an Agatha Christie to understand that these stories are connected. The question is why? Rabbi Philip Graubart suggests that the connection between these stories is the “Inside/Outside” dilemma. He writes: Both Noah and Jonah struggle with the question of how to relate to the insider and the outsider in their lives. Jonah despises the outsider; Noah seems to care very little about the outsider. Jonah says explicitly that he wants Gd to destroy the wicked city of Nineveh. When Gd sees their repentance and decides to let them live, Jonah is angry. He sulks and says that Gd is gullible, and he is angry that Gd is willing to let the people of Nineveh live.

Gd has to rebuke him for being so hostile to outsiders. He says to him: “Do you really want me to destroy all of Nineveh, which includes a great many small children who are too young to know right from wrong?” Jonah does not answer this question. As the curtain falls, he says nothing in response to Gd’s question. And that implies that he really does want Gd to destroy all of Nineveh, lock, stock, and barrel. Jonah has no use for the outsider. All he cares about are his own people.

And Noah? Noah is not so explicit in his hatred of the outsider as Jonah is. But his contempt for them is there—between the lines. When Gd tells him that the wickedness of humanity has become unbearable and that He is going to destroy the world with a flood and save only him and his family, Noah does not argue. Noah does not plead with Gd to change his mind. He simply goes about building an ark so that he and his family will be safe. The ark takes many, many years to build. And so when people go by and see him building an ark—on dry land—and ask him what he is doing and why, Noah has an opportunity to warn them of what Gd is about to do. He has a chance to try to persuade them to repent. But he does not do so. Noah is only concerned with saving himself and with saving his family. If the rest of humanity goes under—that is their problem, not his.

And so Gd imprisons them both, Noah and Jonah, in a narrow place, hoping that the experience of being cooped up in a narrow place will teach them that life cannot be lived only within a narrow circle, that people have to be concerned with the welfare of those outside as well as with the welfare of those within their immediate circle.

In both cases, the lesson fails. Jonah doesn’t want Nineveh to repent. Nineveh had long been an enemy of Israel and so Jonah wants it destroyed. Noah is cooped up in the ark for a year working night and day to feed all the animals. According to some commentators, this was his punishment. Since he didn’t care about the welfare of human beings, he must now worry about the welfare of animals. Behind that comment is a sense that Noah is a person who doesn’t care much about the welfare of others. And so the Midrash teaches us that if it was cold Noah would cover himself with a blanket while Abraham would light a fire to warm others.

Why do I tell you these stories about Noah and Jonah? Because the dilemma they faced then, faces each and every one of us today: How should we relate to the tension between inside and outside in our lives—caring for those who are close and caring for those who are outside our immediate circle? It’s right to care most about those with whom our lives are intertwined. But there must be limits. We live in this world and what happens in one part of the world eventually affects us all.

I don’t know about you, but I confess that when I read the names of those who died in a plane crash or those arrested for a crime or those listed on the obituary page…I look mostly for the Jewish names. I know it’s not right, but I do it. But when a hurricane or an earthquake strikes another state or a far off country, I respond with whatever help I can give. I show that I care about these people who are total strangers but who are in distress, because I don’t want to commit the sin of Noah or Jonah. I don’t want to care only about my own…for my Gd is the Gd of the whole world.

There are some—especially prevalent among Jews—who commit the opposite sin. They care only about the rest of the world and not about their own people. And so we have philanthropists who give millions and millions of dollars to save the whales but not one penny to Jewish causes—and that can be just as much of a sin as caring only about our own. Clearly the lesson of both Noah and Jonah is that we must care about both—the inside and the outside.

Gd rebukes Jonah for being so narrow and tells him: “I care about the people of Nineveh and so should you. They too are created in My Image.” And in the Noah story, after the flood, Gd sends a rainbow saying 3 times (Gen. 9:13-16) that the rainbow is the sign of the covenant—not between Gd and Noah—but between Gd and all flesh that is on the earth! Gd is the Gd of the whole world and cares about the whole world. And that’s the lesson we have to learn.

 All of us are more comfortable and feel safer when we’re among our own—and understandably so. But the world is not a cocoon. And our purpose is not just to be safe and snug. Therefore, we have to care about those outside our circle as well as those within it.

 I don’t know if Jonah ever really learned this lesson. When the curtain goes down on the Book of Jonah we see him still boycotting Nineveh and sulking that Gd had not zapped them. And we’re left to wonder whether Jonah ever repented or not.

And I don’t know if Noah ever really learned this lesson or not. Maybe he did, because he started the world over again after the flood…and all the races of the world are descended from him, and so I guess that he had to be sensitive to the fact that all the world is really, ultimately, one family. But the Torah does not say explicitly that Noah came down from the ark any wiser than he went up in to it. The Torah does not explicitly say that Noah ever regretted not warning the people that a flood was on the way and that the world would end unless they repented.

But we do know that Noah planted a vineyard and got drunk after he came out of the ark. Could it be that he did so to drown out his guilt for having cared only about his own and not about others?

 Let’s conclude with looking at the story of the one who follows Noah in the Torah—Abraham. Abraham is known for 2 things. The 1^st is caring about his family. He risks his life and goes to war to rescue his nephew Lot. But he also profoundly cares about others. He stands up to Gd on behalf of the wicked city of Sodom and tries to save them. Can you picture Jonah standing up to Gd and saying: “If there are 50 good people in Nineveh will you save it?”

 Rabbi Graubart concludes his thought saying: The great symbol of Noah is an Ark—a closed in container like a cocoon. And the great symbol of Jonah is the belly of a fish—also a closed in container, a kind of prison cell. But what is the great symbol of Abraham? It is a tent—a place where he and his family live. And this tent was open on all 4 sides so that Abraham could see and reach out and welcome strangers who came by, from whichever direction they came. A tent—which symbolizes care for those inside—and 4 open flaps—which symbolize readiness to embrace the stranger—these are the signs of how Abraham resolved the tension between Inside and Outside that confronted Jonah,  that confronted Noah, and that confronts each and every one of us.

May we learn from Abraham’s example. Amen!

BERESHIT 5779

Aliens in the Torah

Tell me, is this the only world that there is? If the Mars Exploration Rover Opportunity, which is currently exploring Mars, would find intelligent life there, would this shake us up? Would this be a problem for us as Jews?

I was discussing this with a few people at our Simchat Torah celebration and they asked if I might discuss it today. And so to begin let me read to you an amazing passage from today’s Torah portion that’s often overlooked—probably because it’s not easy to explain (Gen. 6:1-4):

          And it came to pass when man began to increase upon the earth and daughters were born to them. The B’ney Elohim saw that the daughters of man were good and they took themselves wives from whomever they chose…The Nefilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward when the B’ney Elohim would consort with the daughters of man, who would bear to them children. They were the mightywho, from old, were men of renown.

The question is, who were the B’ney Elohim and the Nefilim? B’ney Elohim literally means, “the children of the gods,” or the godlike—perhaps ones with special powers man did not yet have. The literal meaning of Nefilim is, “the fallen ones,” but fallen from where?

This question is the subject of a great deal of religious writing, especially in the non-Jewish world. In A Jewish Theology, author Louis Jacobs quotes a Christian theologian, Jerome Eckstein (p.100). Let me read it to you:

          Let our imagination roam and let us speculate about the possible conflicts between future discoveries of space exploration and our old religious beliefs, if these religious beliefs are understood as offering knowledge of the kind given by science. Suppose a strangely figured race of creatures with the approximate intelligence of humans and a culture and ethics dramatically different from ours was discovered on some distant star, would this not pose serious problems to the dogmatic and authoritarian interpretations of the Judaeo-Christian religions? Would these creatures, who obviously were not descended from Adam and Eve, be tainted with original sin? [This is the 1^st thing that this Christian thinks of.] Would they too have souls? Would they be in need of grace and salvation? Did Jesus absorb their sins? Would they be in need of a Messiah?   

Christian thought is concerned with original sin and Jesus in regard to extra-terrestrials. What does Judaism have to say? How does the Torah begin? B’reyshit bara Elokim et hashamayim, v’et haaretz, “In the beginning Gd created the heavens and the earth.” The word for heavens, Shamayim, can mean 2 things: the atmosphere or beyond the atmosphere to, and including, the stars. The sages tell us that the word Shamayim is a contraction of 2 words: sham mayim, or, “there is water.” We know there is water in the atmosphere and we also know there also is water beyond. And we also know that where there is water there is a good chance there is life.  

Listen to this passage in the Talmud (Avoda Zara 3b): “Gd roams over 18,000 worlds.” Wow, 18,000 worlds! Some commentators speculate that Gd roams over these worlds because there is life out there. But are there Jews out there? Can I find a minyan out there? The Sefer Habrit, in its commentary, says that we should not expect the creatures of another world to resemble earthly life, any more than sea creatures resemble those of land.

The basic premise of the existence of extraterrestrial life is strongly supported by the Zohar—our mystical Biblical commentary. The Midrash teaches us that there are 7 earths. Although the Ibn Ezra, in his commentary, tries to argue that these refer to the 7 continents, the Zohar clearly states that the 7 are separated by a firmament and are inhabited. Although they are not inhabited by man, they are the domain of intelligent creatures. Am I scaring you yet?

The Shlaw, Rav Pinchas Eliyahu ben Maimar Horowitz of Vilna (d. 1821), wrote a book where he showed from various sources that we believe that there is life elsewhere. On the basis of this verse in Isaiah (45:18) he showed that there are creatures on planets other than earth: “For thus said Hashem, Creator of the heavens: He is the Gd, the One Who fashioned the earth and He is its Maker; He established it; He did not create it for emptiness; He fashioned it to be inhabited.” Gd fashioned the world to be inhabited and, therefore, the sages teach that it is our job—a mitzvah—to                                                                                      have children so we can contribute to the inhabitation of the world. The inference in this is that if there are other inhabitable planets, they too were created to be inhabited.

The Shlaw refers to the passage in the Talmud (Mo-ed Katan 16a) which according to one opinion, the word meyroz in the Song of Deborah (Judges 5:23), is a star or a planet. Oru meyroz, says the passage, “cursed be meyroz,” indicates that it was inhabited since it could only be cursed because of something its inhabitants did. Now whether meyroz refers to Mars or not, is a question—especially now when the latest space probes have shown there is no life there. However they do show that there might have been.                       

 Let’s go even further. Is it possible that at one time there was communication between this world and other worlds? Can we find support for this in the Torah? Yes, in that passage I began with: “The B’ney Elohim saw that the daughters of man were good and they took themselves wives from whomever they chose.” Who were these B’ney Elohim and how were they able to take “wives from whomever they chose”? Elohim is one of the names of Gd. But it literally means, “powers.” That’s why it’s a plural name for Gd, because Gd is the sum of all the powers of the Universe. Is it possible that these B’ney Elohim could take whomever they wanted for a wife because they had special otherworldly powers and no one could stop them? 

The next verse is (Gen. 6:4): Han’filim hayu va-aretz bayamim haheym, “The Nefilim were on the earth in those days.” Whatever the Nefilim were—various versions include giants, princes or fallen angels—they were, as the meaning of the name indicates, “people who fell,” because nafal means, “to fall”—i.e. who fell here on earth from somewhere else. While there is quite a debate as to who they were, there are many who believe they came from someplace beyond the earth.

So according to this view, these B’ney Elohim and Nefilim were the 1^st extraterrestrials who came here in their UFO’s. Perhaps this is too dangerous to dwell on. Just hear it and be aware that there is such a belief. 

The Midrash had no hesitation in teaching right at the beginning, before it starts an analysis of the text of the Torah, that ours is not the 1^st world Gd created: Borey olamot umachliban, “Gd created worlds and He destroyed them.” How many worlds came before this? This is not for us to know. Just know that there were worlds before this one.

Hasdai Crescas, the great medieval Jewish philosopher, evoked the words of Psalm 19: “The heavens declare the glory of Gd.” Perhaps this verse indicates that there are praises to the glory of Gd from other worlds in the heavens. Crescas’ classic work, Ohr Hashem, contains an entire chapter where he maintains that the possibility of life on other planets is not in conflict with the Torah.

Is this definitive proof that the Torah maintains there is life on other planets? Not really. But it does give us reason to pause and contemplate the awesome universe Gd created. Amen!

SHMINI ATZERET 5779

A psychologist was asked by a friend, “Tell me, how can you listen hour after hour, day after day, week after week, to people who pour out their frustrations and tales of woe from your couch”

To which the psychologist shrugs his shoulders and says, “Who listens?”

Yes, who really listens anymore? We all know arrogant and opinionated people who refuse to listen to anyone. Then there are those who are so preoccupied with themselves—with what they want and with what they think they need—that they’re deaf to the rest of the world. They’re so full of themselves, there’s no room for anyone else in their lives. This was quite evident at last Thursday’s senate hearings with Dr. Christine Blasey Ford and Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh. Neither side really listened to the testimony or to each other. It was just politics as usual.

And then there’s a 3^rd category to which most of us belong: those who are so busy listening to words that don’t really deserve a hearing—to much of the nonsense we hear in the media and social media these days—that we have little time or patience for words that could make a difference.

The Torah (Lev. 19:18) commands us: V’ahavta l’reyacha kamocha (Love your fellow as yourself). Rabbi Akiva (Yerushalmi Nedarim 9:4) adds: Zeh klal gadol baTorah (This is the greatest principle in the Torah). Although it sounds simple, loving your fellow human being can be the hardest thing in the world to do.

Cheryl pointed out to me Lorraine Murray’s column in last week’s paper (AJC 9/21/18) that connects love and listening called, “Just listening is a big part of loving someone.” She’s right of course. Let me share some of her thoughts with you which I think are appropriate in these moments before Yizkor. Murray writes: Listening is a big part of cherishing another person, while ignoring them conveys the message, “You’re not that important to me.”

It’s shocking to see how many people are checking their phones even while conversing, while others are biding their time to jump in with their 2 cents. As soon as you’ve closed your mouth on your last word, these folks grab the conversational ball and run with it. Sometimes they engage in the “you think you’ve got it bad” conversational technique. And so if you mention you’re slated for some scary surgery next week, they’ll jump in with a story about an operation they had 10 years ago, which, they assure you, was much trickier than yours.

It happens so often. Someone I know was telling another she was recovering from radiation therapy for cancer. This person heard the “c” word and couldn’t resist telling her a harrowing tale about a relative, who had a similar treatment and then died shortly afterwards. “Are you kidding?” I thought. Sound familiar?

Another less-than-loving conversational technique is spinning out solutions—telling them what to do—instead of just listening. Rabbi Yisroel Reisman tells about the advice he gives to new grooms before the wedding. He tells them: If your wife comes home and tells you what a hard day she had. She missed her bus and was late for work and her boss yelled at her. She worked for hours on a project and the computer crashed and she lost all that work…Don’t say to her, “Why didn’t you leave 5 minutes earlier for work? You wouldn’t have missed your buss and your boss wouldn’t have yelled at you. And why didn’t you save your work on the computer every few minutes?”        

          Don’t tell her what to do or what she should have done. She knows that. Rather just listen and repeat back what she says: “Oh, you missed your bus and your boss yelled at you. You must have been so stressed out. And you lost hours of work on the computer; that must have been so frustrating. I’m so sorry.”

          Tell her this and you’ll be amazed at how much she will appreciate you.

Sometimes we just need to lay our burdens on another person’s shoulders. We want to tell them about our week…a trip to the ER with a weird throbbing pain in our foot…a water heater that died and sent a stream across the hardwood floors…or a car that keeps stalling.

You long to hear the golden words, “What a tough week! I’m so sorry for you.”—rather than recommendations for a doctor, a floor guy or a mechanic. Sometimes it’s really difficult listening to another person without succumbing to the temptation to interrupt them, since we have this great story we’re dying to share—or perhaps there’s a factual error we feel compelled to correct. This is the time to quiet our minds, breathe deeply and show that we’re truly present.

Kohelet (4:9-10)—which we read on Sukkot—describes friendship this way: “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.” Sometimes people fall down because they feel life’s woes are crushing them—and rescuing them may mean just letting them unburden themselves, while we remain silent.

What about Gd’s voice? He’s also trying to get through to us, but often we block Him out because he speaks to us in silence…and we may be soaking up the news, gabbing on the phone, glued to a Netflix show, checking texts or Facebook. Even if we sometimes don’t listen, Gd is always there.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks tells us: There is something profoundly spiritual about listening. It’s the most effective form of conflict resolution. Many things can create conflict, but what sustains it is the feeling that we have not been listened to—that they have not heard our pain…Job, who has suffered unjustly, is unmoved by the arguments of his comforters. It is not that he insists on being right: what he wants is to be heard.

Listening lies at the very heart of relationship. It means that we are open to the other, that we respect him/her, that their perceptions and feelings matter to us. And so a good parent listens to their child. A good employer listens to his/her workers. A good company listens to its customers. A good leader listens to those he leads. Listening doesn’t mean agreeing but it does mean caring. Listening is the climate in which love and respect grow.

Rabbi Sacks continues: In Judaism we believe that our relationship with Gd is an ongoing tutorial in our relationships with other people. How can we expect Gd to listen to us if we fail to listen to our spouse, our children, or those affected by our work? And how can we expect to encounter Gd if we have not learned to listen?

A man goes to the doctor and tells him that he’s worried because he thinks his wife has a hearing problem that she won’t admit. So he asks the doctor what he can do to find out how serious the problem really is.

          The doctor says, “I’ll give you a test you can use, and if she fails the test you’ll know you’d better bring her in immediately for a check-up. Tonight when you go home, from the front door ask, ‘Hi honey, what’s for dinner?’ If there’s no answer, go into the house and ask again, ‘Hi honey, what’s for dinner?’ If there still is no answer, walk right up behind her and ask again, ‘Hi honey, what’s for dinner?’ If she doesn’t hear even that, you know she has a serious problem.”

          So the man goes home that night and follows the doctor’s suggestion. He walks in the door and says, “Hi honey, what’s for dinner?” No answer. He goes further into the house and asks again. No answer. So he walks right up behind her and says, “Hi honey, what’s for dinner?”

          She turns to him and yells, “Fish, I told you 3 times!”

Crowds are moved by great speakers, but lives are changed by great listeners. In the end, the key to loving another person is the same as loving Gd—we must give others the gift of our full attention. That’s what our loved ones we remember today did. Our parents’ lives, our spouse’s lives revolved around our lives. We were their lives. Everything we did, every accomplishment, every disappointment was also theirs. When something important happened they were the ones we called to share it with—and they listened.

May we in this world that is so distracting…put aside our phones, tablets and computers long enough to give the ones we love who are still here our full and undivided attention and listen. Amen!

LULAV OF THE YEAR AWARD 5779

Once a year, the eyes of the whole world turn to Hollywood...and a distinguished movie star opens an envelope...and announces the name of the best actor of the year....and the audience goes wild with excitement as the movie star hugs those that are sitting near him, and then, to tumultuous applause, climbs up to the stage and receives the Oscar.

And once a year, the eyes of the whole world turn to Hollywood…and a famous television star tears open an envelope and reads the name of the best actress of the year in a television program and the audience goes wild as an excited actress hugs the people sitting near her and then comes up on the stage to receive an Emmy.

And once a year, the eyes of the whole world turn to Congregation Shaarei Shamayim on Sukkot, and before a congregation that listens with baited breath...I announce the “Lulav of the Year Award.” What is the “Lulav Of The Year Award?” (With thanks to Rabbi Jack Reimer for the thought.) And why does it have that name?

It’s the award that I give to a person who has shown outstanding courage. Why do I call it “The Lulav of the Year Award”? Because while a Shofar you can hide in your pocket, if you want to, and a tallis, you can carry in a bag, even a plain brown paper bag...and no one will know what you have inside…but a lulav you can’t hide. A lulav sticks out, and stands tall.

The Jerusalem Talmud tells us that in ancient times, the residents of Jerusalem would take a lulav with them wherever they went on Sukkot. It was a strong affirmation of who they were, for a lulav can’t be hidden. The Midrash teaches us that a lulav is symbolic of the spine. And therefore it is an appropriate symbol to give to a person who has had the spine to stand up tall for what he believes is right.

And now the envelope, please…and the winner is…Ari Fuld. 3 days before Yom Kippur the entire Jewish world was shaken by the tragic murder that was captured live on video. When you watch it, it chills you to the bone. A falafel shop worker who was saved by Ari Fuld said that the terrorist—17-year-old Khalil Jabarin—deliberately looked for an American to target before launching his stabbing spree: “He wanted to kill Americans.”

Security camera footage from the Gush Etzion Junction shopping mall on Sunday shows Fuld, after being fatally stabbed—and with blood pouring down his back—chasing and shooting his attacker. The terrorist was running after his next target, Hila Peretz, who had served him a falafel.

The entire Jewish people mourned the murder of 45-year-old Ari Fuld. Let me tell you a bit about Ari. He was born in Queens, NY and had immigrated to Israel 27 years ago. He became—among other things—an ambassador to the Jewish people for the State of Israel. When he wasn’t on his mission going around the world promoting and speaking about Israel, defending Israel and protecting Israel, he was always learning Torah. He was the assistant director of “Standing Together,” an organization that was created to send pizzas to soldiers guarding the checkpoints and has grown to cater to the different needs of Israeli soldiers—sending drinks, food, clothes, undergarments, and more to our soldiers in the field—all to put a smile on their faces with their difficult mission. I heard Ari in an interview say, “I’m always on call. I’m the commander of the ‘First Responders Team’ where I live—an anti-terror team. I’m part of the elite paratroopers of the IDF.”

My son Joshua knew him and his brothers. At the funeral early Monday morning, those who spoke about him said he always had a sefer, a holy book with him. If he wasn’t writing or blogging, or speaking on the internet, he was sitting and learning Torah. He was a person that at the young age of 45 was an example of someone who understood why his soul was sent to this world. He was fulfilling his mission to change the world—to make it better—as a proud Jew, a noble Jew. He lived with passion for the truth, which is sometimes hard for people to hear, and in his videos I always saw him back up what he said with facts and dates. And what says so much about him is that he was respected even by his political opponents.

His tragic, untimely murder reminds us that we all have a purpose in this world. We didn’t come here to enjoy the pleasures of life, we came here because our souls were sent with a purpose and a mission.

Rabbi Moshe Scheiner of the Palm Beach Synagogue said, The greatest way to remember Ari Fuld, of blessed memory, is by carrying on his mission. He’s a reminder that everyone has to live with a purpose—with a sense of destiny and pride in being Jewish—protecting the people of Israel, the nation of Israel and the study of Torah. By doing this we will carry on his vision, his purpose, his dream so that there will be shalom, peace in the Land of Israel and the world…that no longer should Jews, innocent young fathers of 4 beautiful children have to be taken in such an horrific and tragic way. There should soon come a time when the world will be full of peace and the coming of Mashiach. 

 In the aftermath of this terror attack came an unbelievable announcement from the Palestinian Authority. The family of Khalil Jabarin—the murderer of Ari Fuld—would now receive a monthly salary to reward his “brave” deed. U.S. Ambassador to Israel David Friedman communicated his shock at this saying, “This practice is unconscionable and must stop if there is to be any hope for peace.”

At the funeral, Ari’s brother Moshe said: So many people came here to pay their last respects to him. If there is one word to describe my brother, it is “hero,” simply a hero. Who else can deal with a terrorist, take out a gun, jump over a fence and shoot the terrorist—all while he is injured—so that he does not harm others? Ari, I’m so sorry that I did not tell you about your greatness. You are a true giant.

For this and for the inspiration he has been for what he has accomplished in his brief lifetime…Ari Fuld now posthumously receives the Shaarei Shamayim’s Lulav of the Year Award. May Gd bless his soul. Amen!