All credit goes to Rabbi Joey Rosenfeld.
Saturday, October 31, 2020
Friday, October 30, 2020
Snippets From Rav Itche Meir Morgenstern on Parshas Lech L’cha
Lech L’cha: “Go For Yourself”
Rashi explains that Lech L’cha means to go for your benefit and pleasure.
“There I will make you into a great nation, while here you cannot have children. In
addition, I will make êòáè [your nature or name] known in the world.”
On the words, “I will make you into a great nation,” Rashi elucidates that,
ordinarily, traveling negatively impacts three things: procreative capacity, money, and
fame. For this reason, Hashem promised Avraham that his journeys would bring him
children, wealth, and renown.
It is well known that Avraham was so completely unconcerned with the material
that he was willing to be cast into the fire for Hashem’s honor. Surely he served Hashem
with complete self-sacrifice at all times. As Chazal said, “The Avos were themselves the
Merkavah or Divine chariot, as it were.”3
It is only possible to be the vehicle that bears
Hashem’s glory if one has first attained the deep self-sacrifice which is an aspect of
Arich Anpin. What possible motivation could material promises have held for him?
Surely such promises were far below his exalted level.
Sunday, October 25, 2020
Studies Show Jews’ Genetic Similarity
By
Jewish communities in Europe and the Middle East share many genes inherited from the ancestral Jewish population that lived in the Middle East some 3,000 years ago, even though each community also carries genes from other sources — usually the country in which it lives.
That is the conclusion of two new genetic surveys, the first to use genome-wide scanning devices to compare many Jewish communities around the world.
A major surprise from both surveys is the genetic closeness of the two Jewish communities of Europe, the Ashkenazim and the Sephardim. The Ashkenazim thrived in Northern and Eastern Europe until their devastation by the Hitler regime, and now live mostly in the United States and Israel. The Sephardim were exiled from Spain in 1492 and from Portugal in 1497 and moved to the Ottoman Empire, North Africa and the Netherlands.
The two genome surveys extend earlier studies based just on the Y chromosome, the genetic element carried by all men. They refute the suggestion made last year by the historian Shlomo Sand in his book “The Invention of the Jewish People” that Jews have no common origin but are a miscellany of people in Europe and Central Asia who converted to Judaism at various times.
Jewish communities from Europe, the Middle East and the Caucasus all have substantial genetic ancestry that traces back to the Levant; Ethiopian Jews and two Judaic communities in India are genetically much closer to their host populations.
The surveys provide rich data about genetic ancestry that is of great interest to historians. “I’m constantly impressed by the manner in which the geneticists keep moving ahead with new projects and illuminating what we know of history,” said Lawrence H. Schiffman, a professor of Judaic studies at New York University.
One of the surveys was conducted by Gil Atzmon of the Albert Einstein College of Medicine and Harry Ostrer of New York University and appears in the current American Journal of Human Genetics. The other, led by Doron M. Behar of the Rambam Health Care Campus in Haifa and Richard Villems of the University of Tartu in Estonia, is published in Thursday’s edition of Nature.
Dr. Atzmon and Dr. Ostrer have developed a way of timing demographic events from the genetic elements shared by different Jewish communities. Their calculations show that Iraqi and Iranian Jews separated from other Jewish communities about 2,500 years ago. This genetic finding presumably reflects a historical event, the destruction of the First Temple at Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar in 587 B.C. and the exile of many Jews there to his capital at Babylon.
The shared genetic elements suggest that members of any Jewish community are related to one another as closely as are fourth or fifth cousins in a large population, which is about 10 times higher than the relationship between two people chosen at random off the streets of New York City, Dr. Atzmon said.
Ashkenazic and Sephardic Jews have roughly 30 percent European ancestry, with most of the rest from the Middle East, the two surveys find. The two communities seem very similar to each other genetically, which is unexpected because they have been separated for so long.
One explanation is that they come from the same Jewish source population in Europe. The Atzmon-Ostrer team found that the genomic signature of Ashkenazim and Sephardim was very similar to that of Italian Jews, suggesting that an ancient population in northern Italy of Jews intermarried with Italians could have been the common origin. The Ashkenazim first appear in Northern Europe around A.D. 800, but historians suspect that they arrived there from Italy.
Another explanation, which may be complementary to the first, is that there was far more interchange and intermarriage than expected between the two communities in medieval times.
The genetics confirms a trend noticed by historians: that there was more contact between Ashkenazim and Sephardim than suspected, with Italy as the linchpin of interchange, said Aron Rodrigue, a Stanford University historian.
A common surname among Italian Jews is Morpurgo, meaning someone from Marburg in Germany. Also, Dr. Rodrigue said, one of the most common names among the Sephardim who settled in the Ottoman Empire is Eskenazi, indicating that many Ashkenazim had joined the Sephardic community there.
The two genetic surveys indicate “that there may be common origins shared by the two groups, but also that there were extensive contacts and settlements,” Dr. Rodrigue said.
Hebrew could have served as the lingua franca between the Ashkenazic community, speaking Yiddish, and the Ladino-speaking Sephardim. “When Jews met each other, they spoke Hebrew,” Dr. Schiffman said, referring to the medieval period.
Friday, October 23, 2020
Individual and Collective Responsibility By Britain's Former Chief Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks
Individual and Collective Responsibility
All credit goes to ou.org and Britain's Former Chief Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks
I once had the opportunity to ask the Catholic writer Paul Johnson what had struck him most about Judaism during the long period he spent researching it for his masterly A History of the Jews? He replied in roughly these words: “There have been, in the course of history, societies that emphasised the individual – like the secular West today. And there have been others that placed weight on the collective – communist Russia or China, for example.”
Judaism, he continued, was the most successful example he knew of that managed the delicate balance between both – giving equal weight to individual and collective responsibility. Judaism was a religion of strong individuals and strong communities. This, he said, was very rare and difficult, and constituted one of our greatest achievements.
It was a wise and subtle observation. Without knowing it, he had in effect paraphrased Hillel’s aphorism: “If I am not for myself, who will be (individual responsibility)? But if I am only for myself, what am I (collective responsibility)?” This insight allows us to see the argument of Parshat Noach in a way that might not have been obvious otherwise.
The parsha begins and ends with two great events, the Flood on the one hand, Babel and its tower on the other. On the face of it they have nothing in common. The failings of the generation of the Flood are explicit. “The world was corrupt before God, and the land was filled with violence. God saw the world, and it was corrupted. All flesh had perverted its way on the earth” (Gen. 6: 11-12). Wickedness, violence, corruption, perversion: this is the language of systemic moral failure.
Babel by contrast seems almost idyllic. “The entire earth had one language and a common speech” (11: 1). The builders are bent on construction, not destruction. It is far from clear what their sin was. Yet from the Torah’s point of view Babel represents another serious wrong turn, because immediately thereafter God summons Abraham to begin an entirely new chapter in the religious story of humankind. There is no Flood – God had, in any case, sworn that He would never again punish humanity in such a way (“Never again will I curse the soil because of man, for the inclination of man's heart is evil from his youth. I will never again strike down all life as I have just done”, 8: 21). But it is clear that after Babel God comes to the conclusion that there must be another and different way for humans to live.
Both the Flood and the Tower of Babel are rooted in actual historical events, even if the narrative is not couched in the language of descriptive history. Mesopotamia had many flood myths, all of which testify to the memory of disastrous inundations, especially on the flat lands of the Tigris-Euphrates valley (See Commentary of R. David Zvi Hoffman to Genesis 6 [Hebrew, 140] who suggests that the Flood may have been limited to centres of human habitation, rather than covering the whole earth). Excavations at Shurrupak, Kish, Uruk and Ur – Abraham’s birthplace – reveal evidence of clay flood deposits. Likewise the Tower of Babel was a historical reality. Herodotus tells of the sacred enclosure of Babylon, at the centre of which was a ziqqurat or tower of seven stories, 300 feet high. The remains of more than thirty such towers have been discovered, mainly in lower Mesopotamia, and many references have been found in the literature of the time that speak of such towers “reaching heaven.”
However, the stories of the Flood and Babel are not merely historical, because the Torah is not history but “teaching, instruction.” They are there because they represent a profound moral-social-political-spiritual truth about the human situation as the Torah sees it. They represent, respectively, precisely the failures intimated by Paul Johnson. The Flood tells us what happens to civilization when individuals rule and there is no collective. Babel tells us what happens when the collective rules and individuals are sacrificed to it.
It was Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679), the thinker who laid the foundations of modern politics in his classic Leviathan (1651), who – without referring to the Flood – gave it its best interpretation. Before there were political institutions, said Hobbes, human beings were in a “state of nature.” They were individuals, packs, bands. Lacking a stable ruler, an effective government and enforceable laws, people would be in a state of permanent and violent chaos – “a war of every man against every man” – as they competed for scarce resources. There would be “continual fear, and danger of violent death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” Such situations exist today in a whole series of failed or failing states. That is precisely the Torah’s description of life before the Flood. When there is no rule of law to constrain individuals, the world is filled with violence.
Babel is the opposite, and we now have important historical evidence as to exactly what was meant by the sentence, “The entire land had one language and a common speech.” This may not refer to primal humanity before the division of languages. In fact in the previous chapter the Torah has already stated, “From these the maritime peoples spread out into their lands in their clans within their nations, each with its own language” (Gen. 10: 50. The Talmud Yerushalmi, Megillah 1: 11, 71b, records a dispute between R. Eliezer and R. Johanan, one of whom holds that the division of humanity into seventy languages occurred before the Flood).
The reference seems to be to the imperial practice of the neo-Assyrians, of imposing their own language on the peoples they conquered. One inscription of the time records that Ashurbanipal II “made the totality of all peoples speak one speech.” A cylinder inscription of Sargon II says, “Populations of the four quarters of the world with strange tongues and incompatible speech . . . whom I had taken as booty at the command of Ashur my lord by the might of my sceptre, I caused to accept a single voice.” The neo-Assyrians asserted their supremacy by insisting that their language was the only one to be used by the nations and populations they had defeated. On this reading, Babel is a critique of imperialism.
There is even a hint of this in the parallelism of language between the builders of Babel and the Egyptian Pharaoh who enslaved the Israelites. In Babel they said, “Come, [hava] let us build ourselves a city and a tower . . . lest [pen] we be scattered over the face of the earth” (Gen. 11: 4). In Egypt Pharaoh said, “Come, [hava] let us deal wisely with them, lest [pen] they increase so much . . .” (Ex. 1: 10). The repeated “Come, let us ... lest” is too pronounced to be accidental. Babel, like Egypt, represents an empire that subjugates entire populations, riding roughshod over their identities and freedoms.
If this is so, we will have to re-read the entire Babel story in a way that makes it much more convincing. The sequence is this: Genesis 10 describes the division of humanity into seventy nations and seventy languages. Genesis 11 tells of how one imperial power conquered smaller nations and imposed their language and culture on them, thus directly contravening God’s wish that humans should respect the integrity of each nation and each individual. When at the end of the Babel story God “confuses the language” of the builders, He is not creating a new state of affairs but restoring the old.
Interpreted thus, the story of Babel is a critique of the power of the collective when it crushes individuality – the individuality of the seventy cultures described in Genesis 10. (A personal note: I had the privilege of addressing 2,000 leaders from all the world’s faiths at the Millennium Peace Summit in the United Nations in August 2000. It turned out that there were exactly 70 traditions – each with their subdivisions and sects – represented. So it seems there still are seventy basic cultures). When the rule of law is used to suppress individuals and their distinctive languages and traditions, this too is wrong. The miracle of monotheism is that Unity in Heaven creates diversity on earth, and God asks us (with obvious conditions) to respect that diversity.
So the Flood and the Tower of Babel, though polar opposites, are linked, and the entire parsha of Noach is a brilliant study in the human condition. There are individualistic cultures and there are collectivist ones, and both fail, the former because they lead to anarchy and violence, the latter because they lead to oppression and tyranny.
So Paul Johnson’s insight turns out to be both deep and true. After the two great failures of the Flood and Babel, Abraham was called on to create a new form of social order that would give equal honour to the individual and the collective, personal responsibility and the common good. That remains the special gift of Jews and Judaism to the world.
The Three Stages of Creation By Britain's Former Chief Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks
The Three Stages of Creation
Covenant and Conversation Family Edition on OU Life All credit to Rabbi Sacks and Ou.org
“And God said, let there be… And there was… and God saw that it was good.”
Thus unfolds the most revolutionary as well as the most influential account of creation in the history of the human spirit.
In Rashi’s commentary, he quotes Rabbi Isaac who questioned why the Torah should start with the story of creation at all.[1] Given that it is a book of law – the commandments that bind the children of Israel as a nation – it should have started with the first law given to the Israelites, which does not appear until the twelfth chapter of Exodus.
Rabbi Isaac’s own answer was that the Torah opens with the birth of the universe to justify the gift of the Land of Israel to the People of Israel. The Creator of the world is ipso facto owner and ruler of the world. His gift confers title. The claim of the Jewish people to the land is unlike that of any other nation. It does not flow from arbitrary facts of settlement, historical association, conquest or international agreement (though in the case of the present state of Israel, all four apply). It follows from something more profound: the word of God Himself – the God acknowledged, as it happens, by all three monotheisms: Judaism, Christianity and Islam. This is a political reading of the chapter. Let me suggest another (not incompatible, but additional) interpretation.
One of the most striking propositions of the Torah is that we are called on, as God’s image, to imitate God. “Be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy” (Leviticus 19:2):
The sages taught: “Just as God is called gracious, so you be gracious. Just as He is called merciful, so you be merciful. Just as He is called holy, so you be holy.” So too the prophets described the Almighty by all the various a tributes: long-suffering, abounding in kindness, righteous, upright, perfect, mighty and powerful and so on – to teach us that these qualities are good and right and that a human being should cultivate them, and thus imitate God as far as we can.[2]
Implicit in the first chapter of Genesis is thus a momentous challenge: Just as God is creative, so you be creative. In making man, God endowed one creature – the only one thus far known to science – with the capacity not merely to adapt to his environment, but to adapt his environment to him; to shape the world; to be active, not merely passive, in relation to the influences and circumstances that surround him:
The brute’s existence is an undignified one because it is a helpless existence. Human existence is a dignified one because it is a glorious, majestic, powerful existence…Man of old who could not fight disease and succumbed in multitudes to yellow fever or any other plague with degrading helplessness could not lay claim to dignity. Only the man who builds hospitals, discovers therapeutic techniques, and saves lives is blessed with dignity…Civilised man has gained limited control of nature and has become, in certain respects, her master, and with his mastery he has attained dignity as well. His mastery has made it possible for him to act in accordance with his responsibility.[3]
The first chapter of Genesis therefore contains a teaching. It tells us how to be creative – namely in three stages. The first is the stage of saying “Let there be.” The second is the stage of “and there was.” The third is the stage of seeing “that it is good.”
Even a cursory look at this model of creativity teaches us something profound and counter-intuitive: What is truly creative is not science or technology per se, but the word. That is what forms all being.
Indeed, what singles out Homo sapiens among other animals is the ability to speak. Targum Onkelos translates the last phrase of Genesis 2:7, “God formed man out of dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living creature,” as “and man became ruaĥ memallelah, a speaking spirit.” Because we can speak, we can think, and therefore imagine a world different from the one that currently exists.
Creation begins with the creative word, the idea, the vision, the dream. Language – and with it the ability to remember a distant past and conceptualise a distant future – lies at the heart of our uniqueness as the image of God. Just as God makes the natural world by words (“And God said…and there was”) so we make the human world by words, which is why Judaism takes words so seriously: “Life and death are in the power of the tongue,” says the book of Proverbs (18:21). Already at the opening of the Torah, at the very beginning of creation, is foreshadowed the Jewish doctrine of revelation: that God reveals Himself to humanity not in the sun, the stars, the wind or the storm but in and through words – sacred words that make us co-partners with God in the work of redemption.
“And God said, let there be…and there was” – is, the second stage of creation, is for us the most difficult. It is one thing to conceive an idea, another to execute it. “Between the imagination and the act falls the shadow.”[4] Between the intention and the fact, the dream and the reality, lies struggle, opposition, and the fallibility of the human will. It is all too easy, having tried and failed, to conclude that nothing ultimately can be achieved, that the world is as it is, and that all human endeavour is destined to end in failure.
This, however, is a Greek idea, not a Jewish one: that hubris ends in nemesis, that fate is inexorable and we must resign ourselves to it. Judaism holds the opposite, that though creation is difficult, laborious and fraught with setbacks, we are summoned to it as our essential human vocation: “It is not for you to complete the work,” said Rabbi Tarfon, “but neither are you free to desist from it.”[5] There is a lovely rabbinic phrase: maĥashva tova HaKadosh barukh Hu meztarfah lema’aseh.[6]
This is usually translated as “God considers a good intention as if it were the deed.” I translate it differently: “When a human being has a good intention, God joins in helping it become a deed,” meaning – He gives us the strength, if not now, then eventually, to turn it into achievement.
If the first stage in creation is imagination, the second is will. The sanctity of the human will is one of the most distinctive features of the Torah. There have been many philosophies – the generic name for them is determinisms – that maintain that the human will is an illusion. We are determined by other factors – genetically encoded instinct, economic or social forces, conditioned reflexes – and the idea that we are what we choose to be is a myth. Judaism is a protest in the name of human freedom and responsibility against determinism. We are not pre-programmed machines; we are persons, endowed with will. Just as God is free, so we are free, and the entire Torah is a call to humanity to exercise responsible freedom in creating a social world which honours the freedom of others. Will is the bridge from “Let there be” to “and there was.”
What, though, of the third stage: “And God saw that it was good”? This is the hardest of the three stages to understand. What does it mean to say that “God saw that it was good”? Surely, this is redundant. What does God make that is not good? Judaism is not Gnosticism, nor is it an Eastern mysticism. We do not believe that this created world of the senses is evil. To the contrary, we believe that it is the arena of blessing and good.
Perhaps this is what the phrase comes to teach us: that the religious life is not to be sought in retreat from the world and its conflicts into mystic rapture or nirvana. God wants us to be part of the world, fighting its battles, tasting its joy, celebrating its splendour. But there is more.
In the course of my work, I have visited prisons and centres for young offenders. Many of the people I met there were potentially good. They, like you and me, had dreams, hopes, ambitions, aspirations. They did not want to become criminals. Their tragedy was that often they came from dysfunctional families in difficult conditions. No one took the time to care for them, support them, teach them how to negotiate the world, how to achieve what they wanted through hard work and persuasion rather than violence and lawbreaking. They lacked a basic self-respect, a sense of their own worth. No one ever told them that they were good.
To see that someone is good and to say so is a creative act – one of the great creative acts. ere may be some few individuals who are inescapably evil, but they are few. Within almost all of us is something positive and unique, but which is all too easily injured, and which only grows when exposed to the sunlight of someone else’s recognition and praise. To see the good in others and let them see themselves in the mirror of our regard is to help someone grow to become the best they can be. “Greater,” says the Talmud, “is one who causes others to do good than one who does good himself.”[7] To help others become what they can be is to give birth to creativity in someone else’s soul. This is done not by criticism or negativity but by searching out the good in others, and helping them see it, recognise it, own it, and live it.
“And God saw that it was good” – this too is part of the work of creation, the subtlest and most beautiful of all. When we recognise the goodness in someone, we do more than create it, we help it to become creative. This is what God does for us, and what He calls us to do for others.
[1] Rashi 1:1
[2] Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot De’ot 1:6.
[3] Joseph B. Soloveitchik, The Lonely Man of Faith (New York: Doubleday, 1992), 16–17.
[4] T.S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”, in T.S. Eliot, Collected Poems 1909–1962 (London: Faber and Faber, 1963), p92.
[5] Mishna, Avot 2:16.
[6] Tosefta, Pe’ah 1:4.
[7] Bava Batra 9a.
Snippets From Rav Itche Meir Morgenstern on Parshas Noach
The Chronicles of Noach
“You are the ones who have been shown,
so that you will know [that Hashem is G-d, there is none beside Him.]”3
This phrase
alludes to the holy days of Tishrei we have so recently celebrated and the beginning of
Cheshvan when we begin to feel that the Tishrei experience has gifted us with a new
path of spiritual understanding. This is how we have “been shown, so that we know that
Hashem is G-d.”
The outcome or toladah [the opening phrase of the parshah is, “These are the
chronicles/toldos/outcomes...”] of this new understanding is a new level of avodah. This
new outlook is an aspect of [the name Noach is repeated in the opening verse].
As the Midrash explains: Noach / tranquility for the elyonim [literally, those who dwell
on high], and Noach for the tachtonim [literally, those who dwell in the lower worlds].4
This signifies an aspect of holy tranquility where one doesn’t lose track of his avodas
1
This lesson was first delivered at the third meal of Shabbos.
2 Bereishis 6:9-10
3 Devarim 4:35
4 Bereishis Rabbah Parshah 30
D’ei Chochmah L’Nafshechah Parshas Noach
Hashem whether he is experiencing a spiritual ascent (elyonim) or descent (tachtonim.)
“A righteous, faultless man.” It is to this aspect specifically that Rav Moshe
Isserles
alludes in the beginning of Shulchan Aruch: “‘I place Hashem before me
always’...this is the level of the righteous who walk before G-d...
The Vilna Gaon
comments that the source for this is in our parshah: - - "—
“Noach walked with G-d.” He concludes: —“This is the sum
total of the great levels of the righteous.”
Until a person attains the level of, “you have been shown, so that you will
know,” he has no menuchah, inner peace or tranquility, since he is still in a state of
dichotomy and flux: “Sometimes pure, sometimes defiled. At times kosher, at others
unfit.”
This indicates that he sometimes he ascends [meaning, he maintains a positive
attitude which is the most important element of succeeding in avodas Hashem], and at
other times he is descends [or falls into a negative, depressed, angry, or rebellious state
which causes him to give up on his high spiritual ideals]. Only through the deep
understanding received during Tishrei and actualized during Cheshvan can one attain
[this dual] aspect of Noach so that one never falls [from his hope that Hashem will still
enable him to achieve his lofty spiritual goals] no mater what spiritual descent he is
experiencing, G-d forbid. Snippets From Rav Itche Meir Morgenstern on Parshas Noach
Wednesday, October 21, 2020
Rabbi Yosef Weiss zt”l
Rabbi Yosef Weiss zt”l
It is with great sadness that Matzav.com reports the passing of Rabbi Yosef Weiss zt”l of Lakewood. He was 59 years old.
Rabbi Weiss served as the menahel at Yeshiva Shaagas Aryeh, as well as the principal of the Satmar Cheder of Lakewood. A veteran mechanech, Rabbi Weiss devoted himself to the field of chinuch with great dedication for decades.
Rabbi Weiss was also the author of the popular Visions of Greatness series, published by CIS. Visions of Greatness contains hundreds of inspiring stories that have been enjoyed by thousands.
Rabbi Weiss contracted Covid-19 some months ago and battled valiantly during trying periods of illness.
The levayah is scheduled to take place at 1:30 p.m. at the parking lot of Lake Terrace Hall off of Oak Street in Lakewood. Kevurah will follow at the bais hachaim off of East Seventh Street in Lakewood.
Yehi zichro boruch.
{Matzav.com all credit goes to them}
Almost Twelve Years Ago "Wedding of Vizhinitzer Rebbes’ Grandchildren"
It was posted on Matzav.com February 25, 2009
The chosson, Shneur Zalman Ernster, is a son of Rav Dovid Ernster, who is a son of Rav Zev Ernster, who is a son of Rav Moshe Ernster and a son-in-law of Rav Naftoli Nussbaum, rosh yeshiva of Yeshivas Chaim Moshe. Rav Moshe Ernster is a brother-in-law of the Vizhnitzer Rebbe of Bnei Brak.
The wedding will take place in a tent specially erected for this occasion in Bnei Brak.
{Dovid Bernstein-Matzav.com Newscenter} All Credit goes to them.
Rav Zev is Oldest Grandson of The Imrei Chaim of Viznitz. Zt
Rav Naftoli Nussbaum is the son in-law of Rav Yisroel Grossman Zt"l
Thursday, October 15, 2020
Rav Mogerstern's Shlita's Mother's Levaya and Kevura Photo Credit goes to BHOL.CO.IL
מהקריעה ועד הכיסוי: הלווית הרבנית מורגנשטרן ע"ה
תיעוד ממסע הלווית הרבנית הצדקנית מרת יוכבד סימא מורגנשטרן ע"ה, אמו של האדמו"ר הגרי"מ מורגנשטרן. הלוויה יצאה בצהריים מבית המדרש 'תורת חכם' של בנה האדמו"ר הגרי"מ מורגנשטרן ברחוב אהלי יוסף בירושלים, ונטמנה בהר הזיתים. צפו בגלריה
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