Newspaper Page Text
way Purim-dike Chalant is. Burnt.
Only on holidays does the Chalant
burn. All the rest of the year it
is only ordinary Chalant.”
“You mean that you have to
eat that—all the rest of the year?”
said the lions? “It smells no bet
ter than any other food we can
find in the Land of the Lions!
We don’t want it! Throw it away."
“It’s good Chalant,” Arba shout
ed after the lions who were
marching away as fast as they
could trot. “It ’s good. I won’t
throw it away!”
But they didn’t care what he
did with it. They disappeared in
to the far horizon, going into the
Land of the Lions and never car
ing about coming back again, ever.
And this might be the true rea
son why mothers all over the
world are very careful not to
burn things on Purim. Especially
the Chalant!
4 I EE III I to HE A YES
I go to synagogue because I have need of God—and God
has need of me. Divine services help me to keep attuned to my
Creator—and when I slip by the way as most humans do, I am
helped back to the road leading to God.
All about me I hear and read of the things of the world:
high cost of living, politics, recession, graft, losses, gains, taxes
—and “he said ‘this’ and she said ‘that’.”
But when I go to synagogue I hear what God says: I hear
His Truths, old truths that healed bodies, minds and hearts in
ancient days, truths that are good for us today.
In the House of God there is quiet and peace, the soft tones
of the organ, the rabbi (God’s teacher) before the Holy Ark,
the Biblical readings. I catch new meanings; and, too, the quiet
ness, the calmness rests me from daily rush and care. I medi
tate and in the stillness I feel God’s presence.
Now many of us say “I pray at home”: I have said that many
times myself. But—did you? Did I? Or did you answer the door
bell, talk on the phone, look at television, or read the events
of the day? “I’ll pray at home”—how often have I soothed my
self with that expression of good intentions. The door bell
doesn’t ring in synagogue, and callers will know to visit after
Services—or why not meet your friends at Services?
Did you ever hear it said, usually by those who seldom
attend Services, that there are hypocrites in the churches?
Well, the sins and misdemeanors of my fellow worshipper are
not my affair. Perhaps he is trying to climb out of his weak
ness. Can you read his mind? Can you know his heart? Be
sides, angels have no need for synagogues, for why seek per
fection, when perfection is already there? Synagogue is for
humans with human frailties; angels belong in heaven. Are you
too good already—or do you need God?
And, the rabbi’s sermon: you’re not interested in the topic
you say. Do you go for the sermon or do you go to worship?
Can the rabbi, every week in every year, speak on a subject
interesting to every single person? Be content if he benefits a
handful, be content if his message brings one heart nearer to
God. Be unselfish! Do you always have to be amused? Remem
ber: the rabbi is not an actor, he is a man striving to bring him
self and God’s children near to the Divine: that is his purpose.
Yes, I go to synagogue because I need God—and God has
need of me. Psychiatry may call it an escape, but it is a glori
ous escape, an escape from the cares and anxieties of the world
into a peace of mind that you need, I need, that peace of mind
that only God can give. And God has need of me, of you, of all
His children, to partake of that great gift of Peace that He
alone so w'illingly bestows on all that seek Him.
I love them that love Me; and those that seek Me diligent
ly shall find Me.
This is none other than the House of God and this is the
gate of heaven.
—ANONYMOUS
EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK, low-price electricity’s
working for you. You put electricity to work in
dozens of ways, day and night, in every room in
your home — probably in more ways than you realize.
No wonder electricity’s the biggest bargain in your
family budget.
GEORGIA POWER COMPANY
A Citizen IVherever IVe Serve
than there had been there the
Shabbos before, until the whole
fire was surrounded by lions who
licked their chops and said,
“Grrrr,” in a deep voice, like roll
ing thunder. But the Good Angels
sat by the fire and never let it
get frightened at all. The fire
stayed small and the Chalant
didn’t get burned. It just cooked
and cooked and cooked, and never
got burnt at all.
The lions sniffed and sniffed
and raised their eyes in disapprov
al. “No good,” they said. “What’s
the matter with the Chalant?
What have you done to it?”
"It’s a Shabbos-like Chalant,”
said Arba. ‘ That’s the way Shab
bos-like Chalant always smells.”
“But why was it burnt on
Purim-time?”
Arba looked at the Good Shab
bos Angels who nodded, and ap
proved of what he was making
up out of his head. "That’s the
The Southern Israelite
5