Kibur Asres died last month at 61 in Bahir Dar, Ethiopia, and was buried in Addis Ababa. Thousands cried for him, Jewish and non-Jewish. We, in Toronto, were honoured to have known him.

Kibur was born on May 12, 1950, in Dabat, Ethiopia, to Qes Asres Yayehe and Amarach Denku. He was known to his close family as Wondemalem, translated as “my dearest brother.” According to his daughter, Beth, he was a wise, kind, generous, courageous and complex man.

Like many great leaders in training, Kibur spent his early years tending sheep. In the 1960s, he graduated, with honours, from Addis Ababa University with a degree in chemistry and mathematics and received his diploma from former Ethiopian emperor Haile Selassie.

Kibur spent the next eight years working as a professor. While teaching at Bahir Dar University, he met the lovely and gentle Walelign Fanta. They had three children, Joseph, Eyassu and Bethlehem (Beth).

In 1983, following the Ethiopian revolution and with a bounty on his head, Kibur and family fled to Montreal with the help of JIAS. They were among the first Beta Israel families to leave Ethiopia and arrive in Canada. He completed a master’s degree in social work at McGill University, while he continued working as a chemist and researcher for the Jewish General Hospital in Montreal, specializing in AIDS research.

Later, the family moved to Toronto and Kibur worked as a social worker with Jewish Family & Child. He was the president of the Toronto Ethiopian Association, and created a very successful parking-lot management enterprise called Globe Park Ltd. Kibur was also the dean of the Ottawa School of Business.

His true passion in life was community service. “Any person who had the opportunity to know him can attest to his genuine passion to improve the lives of all those he encountered,” Beth said.

Kibur was the founder of Horn Refugee Foundation, which assisted more than 3,000 African refugee claimants. He established the Re-Med Foundation, which provided medical supplies to underprivileged people internationally. He also created the Addis Hope Foundation, which assisted in community development in Ethiopia.

Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “I submit to you that if a man has not discovered something that he will die for, he isn’t fit to live.” This was not the case with Kibur Asres. He helped dozens of Ethiopian Jews immigrate to Canada. He was an executive member of the Canadian Jewish Congress and served on its race relations committee. He travelled to Israel in 2000 on an exclusive trip for the national executive of the CJC. While there, he spoke with then-prime minister Ehud Barak about the plight of the Falash Mora.

Kibur was quoted saying, “Apart from the fact that not enough is being done to bring them to Israel, not enough is being done simply to keep them alive. They have so many relatives here [in Israel] and are going to come at some point, so why extend their pain and suffering.”

He is survived by his grandchildren, Rebecca, Abigail and Matthew; his siblings, Etzuvdink, Sara, Kokobie, Mulualem, Mintiwab, Addisalem and Paulos, and many nieces, nephews, cousins and lots of people he saved.

Kibur was a kind of Ethiopian royalty, in his own unique way. More than 1,000 people came to his shivah in Israel, and hundreds more in Toronto. He died young and was very fit to live. Zachreinu L’ivracha (Rest in Peace Righteous Man).

http://www.veahavta.org/index.php/voices-from-the-field/from-toronto-blizzards-player-to-deputy-chief-peter-sloly-speaks-about-the-police/

The idea behind these shows are to raise the consciousness of our viewers/listeners about all of our abilities to change the world through our own strength. There you will find interviews with a former prostitute and crack addict, Theresa Schrader, who is now in the employ of Ve’ahavta. She tells us that she can never clean enough, because she simply can get that dirty feeling out of her. Regardless, she runs our Ve’ahavta Street Academy and Creative Writing Contest for the Homeless (a contest she own in 2005).

Watch Ve’ahavta TV, and see an intriguing interview with Nate Laipciger, a Survivor of the Holocaust and Holocaust educator. He says so prolifically that Ve’ahavta is doing the exact thing that Hitler tried to destroy. He made me cry.

Check out our V-TV interview with Bernie Farber, Canadian renowned Jewish activists and community leader, as well as progressive Rabbi, Yossi Saperman, who started out life pretty charadi (very Orthodox) and today is a creative Rabbi with no denominational membership, but a hell of a shul that is growing all the time.

Watch it and let me knwo what you think. Listen and tell me your thoughts. We’re going to go viral. And get what. My co-host on the radio – Vac – is a man who is near homeless. He rocks. He is funny. He is bright. He’s a great radio guy and he doesn’t know where his next meal is coming from. Crazy shit.

Tikun olam on the internet. Well worth listening/watching to.

Take a look at www.veahavta.org for pictures and some editorial on the evening which featured Chantal Kreviazuk and such honorary (tikun olam award winners) as Alice Bartole, the director of the House of Hope Orphanage in Haiti.

It was a funky-ass night too. We did a flashmob, and guess what? I danced with 50 others. I’m the son of a Rabbi, not Bob Fosse, so I’m a bit like a stick up there but I did it, and I was proud. Interestingly, I felt more comfortable in front of 650 people dancing, then I might on a dance floor. It was rockin.

I was excited about the night because it was tikun olam entertainment, with a whole lot of soul. What I mean by that was we got into the street a bit, starting off with a Ve’ahavta writing contest winner who did a guerilla presentation, and did it very well.

The honorees ran the gammit from Holocaust survivors known for their education of others, to a young man who started his activism at 4 years old. It was quite an evening, and I’ll update you more over time, but suffice it to say, we stepped up a notch this year. Ve’ahavta, I believe, is in its 20′s, no longer teenagers. Ya!!!

O’seh Shalom B’eemramov h’oo ya’aseh shalom aleinu ve’al kol yisrael, v’imroo Amen!!!!

Sometimes, we Jews have the opportunity to party. That’s a good thing, since there have been many times when we’ve not felt like it or have been prevented from doing so. And, of course, there are the parties, festive and all, where we celebrate our survival, such as Purim, with schnapps and dance, but never forgetting the brokenness that brought us to the party room.

In some ways, Jewish celebrations are like a parody on partying. 

Every year Ve’ahavta, the Canadian Jewish Humanitarian and Relief Committee, holds an annual gala called Starry Nights. It’s a beautiful event/fundraiser with song, of course food and consciousness raising. On Dec. 4, 700 people will come together at Koerner Hall in Toronto to celebrate life and talk about our great ability as Jews and non-Jews alike, to share our resources and our tremendous creativity with others toward the betterment of our world. We learn about the impact humanitarian gestures have on our souls and our lives. We embrace our commitment to chesed and tikkun olam.  

And we celebrate the many lives we have affected and, in some ways, the brokenness of the world, and the need to have an organization like Ve’ahavta. Jewish merrymaking – a parody on partying.

Indeed the world is broken, some would say shattered. It needs repair. So at Starry Nights we feature the repair people, those individuals who have created a humanitarian toolbox and set about hammering together the shards of a vessel we refer to as our existence. These are brave handymen.

In the past we’ve had some pretty impressive repair people (keynote speakers), such as Eli Wiesel, Mia Farrow and Bob Geldof. This year, Starry Nights features international singer, songwriter and humanitarian Chantal Kreviazuk. The event will be hosted by Jian Ghomeshi of CBC.

And then there are the Tikkun Olam Awards – a moment when we recognize the simple, quiet and community repair people, the anawim (humble) individuals who have a clear understanding of “parodying on Jewish partying,” as they have often lived the strife that came before the festivities and feast. 

These are repair people who have spearheaded extraordinary tikkun olam projects without fanfare and ordeal. Some of our award winners over time include Dr. Michael Silverman, world renowned for his work on HIV/AIDS and infectious disease in developing nations, and Gerda Frieberg, a tireless Holocaust educator and activist. 

This year the recipients include Alice Bartol (Humanitarian Award); Nate Leipciger and Pinchus Gutter (Remembrance); Dr. Isadore Lieberman (Medical); Karen Goldenberg (Community) and Bilaal Rajan (Youth Leadership).    

Recently, I interviewed Karen and Nate on Ve’ahavta TV. Karen expressed to me the wonderment of her childhood, a time when she learned about tikkun olam from both her accountant parents. She said her father treated every client in a special way, and her mother made sure their grandmother had 24-hour care and companionship, from other members of the family. Nate talked about his passion for life despite the fact his mother and sister were murdered, and the fact he and his father were forced on long marches with thousands of other Jews and victims of the Nazis. He is a giant of a man, courageous and brave.

Starry Nights is a Jewish party. It reminds us to party and of the imperative to be valiant when called upon to do so, to enhance our world. Our parties feel different, but we know how to do them well. For more information on how to be a repair person or to attend, see our website at www.veahavta.org.

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The Torah teaches us to celebrate differences, and not to want everyone to mimic one another – whether it comes to personalities, beliefs or religious practices.

– Eli Rubenstein

I lost a friendship.

When we were kids, all was good. We were the tame rebels with longish hair and bad-ass mouths. We were the curious kids, the overlooked ones. Few adults seemed to be curious about us.

We went to a boy’s camp, hid our pellet guns under our bunk beds, and waited a tad too long on the train tracks before leaping off. Soon enough adulthood kicked in and responsibility replaced play. We made decisions that sent us off in different directions, and with that came the surfacing of our guilt, fears and needs.

My friend chose to be frum, and I decided otherwise. I think both of us determined our paths based on guilt, stemming from family pressure and a childhood narrative we both knew well, which stated: “There is one right way to live, and that is as frum Jews.” He subscribed to this narrative, and I rebelled against it.

Such a divergence is not all too uncommon as we grow, but it was painful and caused deep resentment. This same thing can happen within families, when a child becomes Orthodox, or leaves Orthodoxy. It can divide.

In my heart, I understand our separation has more to do with the challenges of maintaining a relationship when many of the rules change, not only the spiritual ones. I know this because he has rejected most of his old friends, frum or otherwise. With this in mind, what do I do? I’d like him back. How do I do that? I’ve been working on it for a long time.

There are those relationship sages who have advised me to “forget him.” Others say, “Let him come to you.” I’ve tried talking Torah on the phone with him, to bridge our communication, but it hasn’t worked. I have done my best to harbour few, if any, expectations of our friendship.

But the phone is still quiet. I was not invited to his son’s bar mitzvah. That was painful. (Man, the “day of” sucks.)

According to my friend Eli Rubenstein (who was once Orthodox but now adheres to the values of humanistic Judaism), “it’s sad when one person becomes religious and gives up his/her former friends. But the opposite is equally true, when somebody chooses a less stringent denomination and feels they can no longer have relationships with people who are still Orthodox.”

Eli told me he feels we need to recognize, first and foremost, our common humanity that rises above all else, and that we’re human beings first. “Adding religious denominations shouldn’t stop you from appreciating another person’s core humanity and uniqueness.”

Eli and I talked and concluded: “What happens is that people become so intolerant that they can’t see past other people’s religious beliefs. The fundamental truth is we’re supposed to live our lives, ones that are original and that nobody else has. Then we express that in different ways. But the first thing that should come is our individual human spirit. The Torah is meant to be a guide to a life already being lived; not meant to replace our lives.”

I miss my friend. Any thoughts?

Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day. –A. A. Milne

I so enjoyed being looked at. It was refreshing, sexy and made me feel masculine and handsome. Toronto is not a city where woman will openly and comfortably ‘check-you-out’. We are not a town where the men ogle woman with thoughts of romance and passion, as they may in France, but more so with a certain luscivious nature. So, rarely being the prize of a woman’s hunt in that way, was nice.

Do you find that women look at you? Do you find that men look at you? What city are you from? Is it a romantic city?

What has your experience been like in Toronto or otherwise. Does the opposite, or even better, same sex ‘check-you-out’. I’ve had some nice experiences with gay men asking after me. That was a compliment too. Do you look longingly at men or women?  Tell me about an experience you had where you were staring or stared at?

What stands out in your mind? What did you see while you were involved in a long look? Did anything come from that moment, of substance or otherwise?

I’ve been wondering what one of the greatest stares in history might have been. Of course i could google it but that would be no fun? Can you think of one – perhaps on film, or in your synagogue on the High Holidays (I am a junior spiritual leader at a local Temple, and it’s quite something to watch people watch people. If one could gauge the dynamic between people in the synagogue on the High Holidays - a place where most people attend 3 times a year - he/she would find great curiosity about others, and wonderment.

Do you like being stared at? Are you comfortable staring at a woman? A man? How long will you hold your stare? Let me know. Thanks.

P.S. Gilad Shalit is slated to come home on Tuesday (to Israel). There was a big price paid for his life, and its painful to consider how it affects so many other lives, but his return home is a simcha (celebration) unto itself. Whatever your thoughts about the Israel-Hamas deal, Gilad is coming home after 5 years. That is highly significant for everyone because we know somewhere in our mind that he was seperated from his family for 1800 days plus; and he was only a couple hundred miles away from them; and he was likely kept out of touch with anyone accept people who were prepared to kill him, if they needed to. We all know this, and explode with happiness for Gilad’s family, and of course for Gilad. God bless the entire planet tonight. Decisions are made every moment, it seems, that plays a major role in our lives. I often think that acting good, doing beautiful deeds, will create a line of dominoes that will run everywhere. Like you perhaps, I pray that evil can become good, and that good becomes better.

He grew up in Toronto with two brothers, Berel and Davey, and his sister, Sylvia.

As a youngster, he was considered to be a good student and a good boy. His brother Berel led the family down a religious path. Shragah Phyvle followed. The two brothers took different spiritual paths, however. Berel embraced modern Orthodoxy and Shragah Phyvle, a more right-wing direction.

In his early years, Shragah Phyvle was one of the founders of the Agudah in Toronto. The Agudah spoke on behalf of haredi Jews in Israel, America, Canada and other countries. Shragah Phyvle felt comfortable in that environment and maintained an Agudah-type lifestyle his entire life.

When the Holocaust was coming to an end, Shragah Phyvle, together with other Agudah leaders like Mike (Elimelech) Tress, began rescuing Jewish orphans in Europe. He put his life on hold, and at one point when he was smuggling orphans into Canada, he was sought by the RCMP.

I haven’t seen my father since October of 1989. I knew him for 29 years. Soon he will be out of my life longer than he was in it. Strange.

In the early ’50s Shragah Phyvle received smichah, rabbinical ordination. He married the lovely Gitel Flicht, and moved to Kitchener after his rebbe, Rabbi Abraham Price, approved of this career move.

By 1960, Shragah Phyvle was the father of five children. I was the youngest. He envisioned a new building for the Kitchener Jewish community and eventually built it. The community burgeoned under his leadership, and would continue to do so over the next 36 years.

First and foremost, Shragah Phyvle was an activist. He worked diligently to introduce the Jewish community to every other community in Kitchener. He lectured at high schools and universities, to church groups and in multi-faith environments – so much so, that the Kitchener Jewish community was at ease with its neighbours and, more importantly, got on well with them. A thousand people of all backgrounds were at his shloshim.

Shragah Phyvle left this world with a brood of grandchildren, and a shem tov – a good name. His house was full of “strangers,” some of whom never really left. His wife is an aishet chayil, a woman of valour, who stood at his activist-side while he actualized a powerful need to make things right for others.

I haven’t seen my father since the night before he died. A couple of days later, following his death, I was flying to Israel to bury him outside of Beth Shemesh in the Jerusalem Hills. What a panoramic view, one he must love!

The last thing I saw of my father was his hand. His hand was gentle. (Sometimes, take a look at people’s hands. They have character). It seemed to reach out from his shrouds wishing us farewell, wanting to stay.

Shragah Phyvle is definitely gone. Recently I read about the new rabbi in Kitchener. I scanned it waiting to read something about my father, who was perhaps the greatest spiritual leader there. But there was nothing. I understood.

I have not seen my father in 264 months. How do we do it?

It seemed like he was attacked, beaten and brutally murdered. Do you think that’s okay? Were you happy to hear it?

Did you fnd yourself watching the video footage over and over? Although the news called the pictures gruesome did you just watch it over and over.

If you answered any of these questions ‘yes’, ask yourself if your response is simply a human one. I you answered ‘yes’ for two or more of these questions, ask yourself if you are surprised at your response for revenge and blood. Ask yourself if you believe, that if you were treated brutally for many yeras, you would be part of a group, a mob, of people who would join in beating its leader. what is your answer for all of this. There is much to say about the human condition.

A side of me was happy he was beaten and murdered. I put myself into check, reminding myself that I must show compassion for a very bad guy, because of who I am and what my belief system represents.

I don’t believe I would ever be part of a group of angry, revengeful people who would beat someone to death. I’ve felt huge anger for such people, but would never, at the end of the day, hurt such an individual. Would you? I heard many stories, about Survivors of the Holocaust who beat to death Nazis after the war (having seen them on the bus or in public places).

On the other hand, would I? Your thoughts.

I write this still exhausted from the demands of schlepping boxes and scrubbing floors.  I’m feeling as you all were when you moved.

I’ve had a lot of time to consider what these last four years have meant to me; how this sukhah, this temporary home, affected my life.

Over the last four years my boy, Noah River, began sleeping in 130 Neptune sukhah. Those days, those nights were o’ so glorious. I loved watching Noah sleep. I giggled wildly with pride at his childlike practicality and spirit.

“When 2 yawns come at once I push 1 away and yawn with the other.”

I looked at his empty room and thanked the walls for protecting him from the often bitter winter winds allowed to fly freely because of the 401 on the north side of the building. 130 Neptune sukhah and its walls was like the animal skin that protected the Jewish people in the dessert.  

Three years ago I had a heart attack.  I scrambled back to 130 Neptune from the eatery where my heart stumbled and unlocked the door for Emergency services to come in unhindered.

As they rolled me out, through the foyer, out the front doors, I saw a child who shared 130 sukhah with me. He seemed so frightened by my circumstances, so I winked at him and gave him the thumbs up as if to say “I’m okay, don’t be afraid. “. That was a nuance I will never forget about 130 Neptune sukhah. I saw me in him; him in me.

 The community at 130 sukhah was eclectic – young and old: frum and secular; newcomers and veterans. My neighbors across the hall were Moroccan; down the hall, was a Polish family and upstairs – Indian. Our superintendent is Russian, the assistant super, Eastern Canadian. Down the hall were Serbs. 

 In 130 sukhah there was a Shabbos elevator and a little red car in the playground. I waved to it and thanked the plastic vehicle for safely carrying my boy around the walkways, where he learned how to fill up its imaginary gas tank with rocks and stones.

 130 Neptune sukhah was my royal palace of creativity. It was my protective cave.  There I painted more than ever and wrote dozens of articles for this fine newspaper and others.

 I loved Joan there.

 My boyhood friends and I watched the highway traffic with great interest.   I finished a book on Doctor Rick Hodes, a true-blue Jewish humanitarian, and studied 12 pages of Tractate Rosh Hashanah with my soul friend, Yudi. This was my home. 

 130 Neptune sukhah was indeed temporary, just as all of our homes will be. When I walked out the door for the last time, I realized that someone else will soon move in. I knew there was another person living there before me, and before her.

 And finally 130 Neptune sukhah was the place where I was me, and me entirely. Within these walls, when I was alone, I had the absolute luxury of just being at peace, at ease with myself -  singing aloud, prancing about, wandering from room to room, late at night, just thinking.

 I thank God for my time there – my very first property, and the fruit that hung from its roof.

 130 Neptune sukhah was temporary, but so are we all.

 Chag Samayach. Happy Sukhot

If you are not familiar with the schools don’t be surprised. Canadians have not made a real effort to teach our presponsibility in destroying thousands of Aboriginal lives. I want to determine if in fact there is anything in the Board of Education, in any province, that teaches the true history of Canada.

- Are our children being taught about Native culture and teachings?

- Are we telling them, and ourselves, how it is that our government, policy and church grabbed children away from their parents, shipped them miles away, to attend these God forsaken schools taught by angry, abusive (and frequently sexual predators) ‘teachers’?

- Are we trying to figure out how this was allowed to happen and ensure it never does again?

- Are we intent upon taking responsibility for our country’s history, both the good and bad?

Please let me know if you have a history book used in our school system. Tell me if there is anything in there about the history of our Native people, their beauty and how they were so terribly abused by our ancestors. If it makes sense, I’d like to see it as well.

As an honest nation, we must see what we have done, and attempt to make it right.

B’shalom (In peace)

Avraham Father of Noah

My personal struggle to arrive at this juncture has been an arduous one. But now that I’m ‘here’ I realize how peaceful it is outside my doors; in fact howEden-like my city and country is. Clearly this is not a feeling or sense that everyone experiences. I work with the impoverished and know for many, every waking morning is hell on earth, having to be concerned with how to serve their children 3 meals that day.

The question: How peaceful is our life? How at ease is the country in which we live in? When your life gets to the point of having meaning, and you can walk through the parks and truly smell the fragrances, it is then, as well, when you should step up your response to the world and its ills? When someone lives inToronto, Canadaand has a ‘good’ life, how closely should they see the souls of the 3,000 children who have perished inSomaliabecause of the current famine?

We look for bliss our entire lives; purpose and meaning, but in a safe place. The wars that rage throughout the world do, often, because the goal of the fighters, at least one side, is to bring a similar type of peace to its citizens. How are we to act and respond once we’ve reached some level of personal and societal nirvana?

Ps. I ask this question, in part, because my people, the Jewish people, suffered during the Holocaust knowing that not enough citizens around the world were thinking about our struggle. The concentration camps were far far away from the consciousness. Knowing a famine is out there today; knowing I am going to my friends cottage today – a truly blissful place – should I adjust? Should I compartmentalize? Should I suffer more?

My boy and i went to Eli’s (my friend’s) cottage, which is on an island. What an experience. It was the first time that my son experienced little towns (along the way); river water, and an island. It was really quite something.

I’m delighted to have had the time and ‘smell the roses’. How was your summer? Anything new happen?

http://plushmemories.com/

While I enjoy writing, a lot, particularly for the Canadian Jewish community through the CJN, I found myself writing pieces at 1 in the morning the night before I had to submit. I continued to get good reviews on my CJN articles, but it wasn’t enough for me to keep going.

So I’m taking the summer – the next 8 weeks – and will revitalize. I have some ideas I will be pursuing in place of writing for the CJN and will keep you in the loop as I go.

Take care. Avrum

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Thursday, 16 June 2011

I will be taking a writing hiatus until September. I am grateful to The CJN staff, particularly editor Mordechai Ben-Dat, for allowing me to write for the paper.Writing is an onerous task, and coupled with my responsibilities as a father and as president at a growing Ve’ahavta: the Canadian Jewish Humanitarian & Relief Committee, it feels right to rest at this point. As we head into the summer, a dreamy season when the colours of our city are as bright as the winter hues are subdued, I encourage everyone to choose a classic book to read on a topic you have always considered fascinating. The summer is a marvellous time to open your mind and learn new ideas and concepts. Study Judaism, learn Torah. Encourage yourself to finally understand physics. Read great novels and become the mystery writer you’ve always wanted to be. Over the summer, consider your ability to do tikkun olam. Be introspective. Pinpoint your personal gift and bring it to the surface, then apply it to your chesed work. If you are a poet, then offer your words, phrases and teaching to Covenant House. An organization that helps homeless youth, it has an in-house high school. Hook up with some street rappers who write poetry and figure out ways to get their voices heard, their poetry published. Befriend your gift, your matanah – your present, and if you determine that your listening skills are above standard, phone around to see if an institution exists that would allow you to listen to seniors, or immigrants, talk about their feelings, their dreams. This summer, find groups of children who stay in the city and just hang around. Once you do, start a reading club, or sports group, and give these kids a sense of hope. Within every child, teen or adult is that gift, that spirit that they were born with and must disseminate far and wide. Now far and wide may be your neighbourhood. It might even be your home, but it should not only stay with just you. My father, of blessed memory, used to say, “The gates of heaven are not closed during the summer months.” He is right. The atrocities in the Congo will continue throughout the next 12 weeks, and many children in Israel will be hungry by noon, with little nutritional respite until supper. Walk through those gates and invite yourself into the hearts and homes of our brothers and sisters everywhere, offer your expertise to help them get through a rough situation. Thank you for your letters and e-mails this year and to all of you bloggers who picked up my articles and disseminated my messages to others. Have a hugely rich summer. Start your book and dedicate it to someone who shared their gift with you. Learn how to dance. Teach your child about empathy, as it is a learned behaviour and response. Peace should come to Israel this summer, and as I tell my son every night, ‘God should watch over you, your mommy and daddy, all good people, all the kids on our planet, the animals, and bring shalom, peace to our world. B’shalom, Avrum PS: Ve’ahavta has just had an open house and therefore I am feeling inspired. Our new digs are stunningly beautiful and esthetically represent that we are the Tikun Olam International Centre. At the open house, we were honoured to have dozens of volunteers, donors and client present, as well as MP Irwin Cotler and Israel’s consul general, Amir Gissin. You’re invited to drop by. Our doors are open. Have a beautiful summer!

I’m moving and considering what I need to do to fix up my old place to sell it, and change my new place so I can move in and feel less collegiate about my life. While I go through this process I continually consider what it means to have the blessing of a brand new place to move into, in a beautiful area with trees and trails to walk on…the vibrancy of freedom.

Every day i think about what I have versus what many others do not; the children in India chained to sewing machines; the women in Thailand forced to prostitute themselves; the lonely little children taking care of themselves in Zimbabwe as their parents have died from HIV/AIDS.

Sometimes I do not know what to do with my freedom, literally. It is so grand; so large; so great. I have choices in front of me, almost as if there are millions and billions to grab and in many ways, not every way, I really can go and chose what I want. This is freedom.

I am grateful that I was born in a city, a country which supplies it in droves. At the same time I can’t help but think about those people who were not. I am full of joy at what I have in life. I am full of sorrow for what they do not have. We often hear, ‘if we only knew what we had we would embrace it; not complain.’

That is true. Know what you have by seeing what others do not. And then be responsible and share the hell out of it.

Good shabbos,

Avraham Father of Noah

Question: What do you do with your freedom? Do you share it?