The Short Vort by Rabbi Eisenman

Shabbos Nachamu is related to Nechama (consolation), which is associated with Menucha (to rest).

 We spoke for quite a long time on Tisha Bav (seven hours)- I attempted to offer Nechama (consolation).

This Shabbos, we are all in need of Menucha, which of course is related to Nechama.

When we rest, when we have Menucha, that can help us appreciate and experience Nechama.

In order to experience my own Menucha, I will be away for Shabbos.

I wish everyone a meaningful and restful Shabbos, and we should all be consoled and rejuvenated!

In my absence, I leave you with this Vort…

This Shabbos, Shabbos Nachamu, fifty-three years ago, I ascended the three steps to the Shulchan at the Ohel Rivka Shul in Yerushalayim and received the Maftir Aliyah.

I then proceeded to read the Haftora, "Nachamu, Nachamu" from a Klaf (parchment scroll).

It was very meaningful to have my Bar Mitzvah in Jerusalem.

My father and his ancestors had been connected to Yerushalayim since the late 1790s.

I was privileged to deliver my Bar Mitzvah D'rashah/speech in both Hebrew and English.

Recently, I wondered how, as a thirteen-year-old American boy, I felt confident enough to publicly speak in both Hebrew and English.

Was my confidence misplaced?

Perhaps, however, one email that I "just happened" to see a few weeks ago led me to a possible clue that could answer the riddle of why I had no fear of public speaking.

The email was forwarded to me by? I don't even recall.

However, it stated that an old, lost friend of mine from five decades ago named Beryl* had passed away, and his children were sitting Shiva in Boro Park.

As I saw the email, I was jolted back to the 1970s, and I knew I had to go to Boro Park to be Menachem Avel.

At the time, a friend asked me why I was driving to Boro Park in the heat of the summer to be Menachem Avel to someone I had not spoken to in decades. I replied, "Wait for the Short Vort, all will be clear."

I was not attempting to be evasive, nor was it a secret.

Rather, I preferred to express my thoughts through the written word, which allows for the time to formulate them properly.

Therefore, here is the Short Vort - Explaining My Trip to Boro Park….

Off I drove to Boro Park.

I found parking on 16^th Ave and began walking to Beryl's home, waxing nostalgic.

I recalled the times we spent together walking the streets of Boro Park more than half a century ago.

The year was 1973, and the Jewish world was in the midst of Teshuva, Tefillah, and Tzedaka as Israel fought for its survival in the Yom Kippur War.

Beryl* and I would walk the streets of Boro Park, collecting dimes and nickels to send to Israel.

I still remembered the house; it hadn't changed much.

I had spent many a Shabbos there.

On Shabbos morning, we would walk to 15^th Ave to hear Rav Yisroel Schorr Zt" L, the renowned Rav of Beth El for over five decades, deliver the Drasha to a standing-room-only crowd.

Beth El, back then, was one of the largest Shuls in Boro Park.

Beryl and I would then leisurely walk back to his house while debating among ourselves the problem of the world.

Mixed in with our philosophical discussions were passionate arguments about the Yankees and the Mets.

We even went together to the last game played in the original Yankee Stadium on September 30, 1973, just days before the war broke out.

It was Tzom Gedalliah, yet we were "moser nefesh" to go as we had to sit through the entire game without even one sip of Coke!

When the game ended, we even went onto the field, bringing home, along with thousands of others, clumps of dirt from the outfield with adolescent hope that a clod of dirt from Yankee Stadium was something to cherish.

Yet, the real reason I went to Boro Park was something that occurred during our Bar Mitzvah year of 1972.

It was then that Beryl asked me a favor.

Neither of our fathers was American-born. Indeed, the majority of my classmates' parents were not born in America.

However, his father, like most, was a Holocaust survivor. While my father was a Yerushalmi who had gone to yeshiva.

His father, unfortunately, had no yeshiva background, and Beryl asked me (and therefore my father) to help him write his Bar Mitzvah peshetl.

Of course – with the help of my father, I obliged.

However, I spent hours translating and elaborating on the notes into a fully written Drosha.

I then practiced on my own dozens of times until I knew the Drosha by heart.

When the finished product was orally presented to Beryl, he delivered it flawlessly on his Bar Mitzvah to the delight of his parents and many guests.

Yet, all that does not explain why I went back to Boro Park this summer to be Menachem Avel his children.

It does not explain why I traveled in the heat to the home of a man I had not spoken to in forty years, and did not know his children.

Why then did I go?

When Beryl finished his Drosha, he came over to me and, with all of the seriousness a 13-year-old boy can muster, he said, "Thank you. You know, you really write good speeches. And even better, you say them so well. I bet you'll be a good writer and speaker. Perhaps one day you could even be a rabbi."

That thought, that compliment, remained with me much longer than my actual friendship with Beryl.

From the get-go, his words filled me with a confidence that, in the near future, allowed me to speak confidently in both Hebrew and English at my Bar Mitzvah.

However, perhaps even more consequential was the long-term impact of his kind words.

Indeed, deep inside, it ignited within me a spark —a potential that I have privately and quietly held onto for decades.

This subtle, heartfelt compliment from Beryl was a major validating moment, and it has stayed with me forever, as it emanated from his heart and entered straight into my heart.

Never underestimate the power of a sincere compliment.



Beryl's compliment gave me the confidence to speak and keep speaking.

One good word from the heart can help give a person the confidence they need for much longer than one can imagine.

Now my friend and all of you can understand why I had to go to Boro Park for the Shiva.

Have a restful and wonderful Shabbos.