Chabad

After the experience, participants asked a single question: “When can we come back and do this again?”

View the original post on the Jewish News Syndicate

Volunteers on a disability inclusion trip sponsored by Birthright Israel, September 2024. Photo by Howard Blas.

(Oct. 8, 2024 / JNS) Eight days in Israel leading the first-ever Ramah Tikvah Birthright Israel Onward disabilities service trip provided insight into how a group of adults ages 21 to 41—all with intellectual and developmental disabilities (most on the autism spectrum)—are capable of connecting deeply with the Jewish homeland and its people, and of making important contributions through their volunteer efforts.

The delegation, all current participants or alumni of Ramah Tikvah disability inclusion programs, have spent many summers at Ramah camps, where they have forged ties with Israelis from their mishlachot (Israeli delegations), learned Israeli songs and dances, and grown to appreciate the importance of the Jewish state in their lives.

When the war with Hamas in Gaza broke last October following the Hamas terrorist attacks in southern Israel, participants in Ramah Tikvah programs began seeing community and family members—and friends from their respective camp communities—travel to Israel on service trips. They began to wonder if they might have a similar opportunity to contribute during Israel’s time of extreme need.

Perhaps Birthright Israel Onward would offer a solution?

Taglit Birthright Israel offers a dozen “classic” trips with necessary supports and accommodations for participants with mobility challenges, inflammatory bowel disorders and other medical issues, as well as an American Sign Language program, a trip for those in 12-step recovery programs and more. In addition, the Birthright Israel Onward program facilitates internships, fellowships, academic study and volunteer opportunities in Israel.

When I pitched the idea of a volunteer trip for people with disabilities, Onward Israel CEO Ilan Wagner immediately gave the green light. This group would need accommodations not usually provided to typical Birthright Israel Onward participants, including staff accompanying the group on the flight and 24/7 throughout the trip; three meals daily; hotel rather than group apartment accommodations; and additional structured activities once their morning of volunteering was over.

Last month, even as the war in the Gaza Strip and the hostage situation continued and with an escalation of war looming between Hezbollah in the north, 12 participants and four staff members boarded flights or took cars or trains from St. Louis, Detroit, Columbus, Minneapolis, Phoenix, Berkeley, Calgary, New Jersey and New Haven for flights to Israel. We arrived at a hotel in Tel Aviv ate dinner, got some rest and hit the ground running the next day.

Birthright Disability Inclusion Trip
Volunteers pack boxes on a disability inclusion trip sponsored by Birthright Israel, September 2024. Photo by Howard Blas.

We recited the Shehecheyanu prayer in honor of this pioneering trip and had morning services at the Nahum Gutman Mosaic Fountain in Tel Aviv. We then headed out—Bingo cards in hand—in search of various famous Tel Aviv landmarks on the Independence Trail. After lunch, we visited the Israel ParaSport Center in Ramat Gan. Our guide, Caroline, who was born paralyzed, is the No. 6 wheelchair table-tennis player in the world and shared what sports means to her. We also had a chance to watch Israel’s national wheelchair basketball team engage in a tough practice, and after speaking with team members, got to try out the specially designed chairs.

Then, it was off to a small Chabad shul in Tel Aviv to do our part for the Tzitzit for Tzahal project—an initiative to prepare 200,000 pairs of ritual army-green fringes for soldiers.

The next day saw us at Pitchon Lev: Breaking the Cycle of Poverty in Rishon Letzion, where we assembled 180 large boxes and filled each with diapers and four packs of wipes. Following our busy and satisfying morning of volunteering, we had lunch—pizza and grill were both exciting options for the hungry volunteers—before setting off for a special tour of the ANU Museum of the Jewish People on the campus of Tel Aviv University. After dinner, we ended our day with a rhythmic movement activity.

On Friday, we made a trip to Jerusalem so the few first-time visitors to Israel could visit the city. Everyone enjoyed shopping on Ben-Yehuda Street, riding EZRaider electric motorized vehicles, and touring the Old City and the Western Wall before heading back to Tel Aviv in time for prayers, Shabbat dinner and an Oneg Shabbat, complete with an UNO card-game marathon.

Shabbat started with morning prayers at the beach, followed by swimming in the Mediterranean, a walk, lunch and visits by Israeli friends and family members. We ended with a beautiful Havdalah service that reminded participants of the many similar ones at their respective camps.

On Sunday, we set off for the first of two days of olive picking at Harvest Helpers Leket Israel in Rishon Letzion. We learned that our olives would be made into olive oil for Israelis in need. Our participants once again felt a connection between their volunteer work and people receiving direct benefits.

Our afternoon visit to Hostage Square in Tel Aviv was quite emotional. We walked through a makeshift tunnel, looked at the empty Shabbat table and chairs (now under a sukkah) in tribute to the hostages, viewed art installations and purchased “Bring Them Home Now” shirts, dog tags and ribbons.

On Monday, in the middle of our breakfast, the staff learned that out of an abundance of caution as the situation in the north was heating up, we were being instructed by the Situation Monitoring Room to leave the hotel in under an hour and relocate to Jerusalem after our morning of olive-picking. Participants remained calm, adjusting to an abrupt change of plans (not usually easy for people with autism) and quickly packing up. Our scheduled culinary tour in Tel Aviv turned into a similar tour in Jerusalem’s Machane Yehuda open-air market, a walk through the adjoining Nachlaot neighborhood and a stop for some ice-cream.

Our last full day in Israel began at Pantry Packers, where we worked in four-person teams to pack peas and other dried goods for Israel’s needy. After putting on aprons and hairnets, two team members placed separate labels on bags, one operated the machine that dispensed the grains into bags, and one used the sealing machine. Our day—and rewarding week in Israel—began winding down with pizza and a swim party at a brand-new pool at a country club in Har Homa.

Birthright Disability Inclusion Trip
Volunteers outside a warehouse on a disability inclusion trip sponsored by Birthright Israel, September 2024. Photo by Howard Blas.

Back at the hotel, participants shared highlights of the trip. Annie thanked her “lovely roommate.” She added that “the trip was a good experience for me. I’m going to start crying.” Maddy, who noted that she volunteers thousands of hours per year, felt that the Israel ParaSport visit “got me thinking of physical disabilities in ways I never have.” Jesse felt a true sense of belonging he said he never felt at home. On Birthright, he said, “I feel like you guys were all my family.”

Our tour guide, Rotem, encouraged the group to go home and serve as ambassadors, sharing their experiences. The participants were unified in asking one question: “When can we come back and do this again?”

My hope is that the Jewish community will continue to create meaningful opportunities—in the United States, Canada and Israel—for adults who have both disabilities and amazing strengths, so as to be fully included and feel a sense of belonging.

Howard Blas

Howard Blas

Howard Blas is a social worker and special-education teacher by training. He teaches Jewish studies and bar/bat mitzvah to students with a range of disabilities, leads disability trips to Israel and writes regularly for many Jewish publications, including JNS.org.

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A rabbi and rabbinical student drive 230 miles to provide a traditional burial

Original Article Published in the Chabad

When Rabbi Chaim Schmukler of Chabad of New Mexico in Albuquerque received a call from a Jewish man telling him that his homeless brother was in the city morgue in Amarillo, Texas, awaiting imminent cremation, the rabbi knew he had to act fast.

He immediately called his brother, Rabbi Bery Schmukler, in Las Cruces, some 225 miles to the south and just 45 minutes from the Texas border. The clock was ticking as the time for cremation approached, and Rabbi Bery moved into action.

“The man thought maybe we could say Kaddish for his brother,” Rabbi Bery told Chabad.org. “He wasn’t expecting that we would actually bury him.”

But the rabbis knew that a proper Jewish burial was essential. Rabbi Bery called a funeral home in Amarillo to have the body transferred to the Jewish section of a natural burial ground in Belen, N.M.—a five-and-a-half-hour drive. He then set out on the three-hour drive from Las Cruces to meet the hearse driver.

Schmukler, co-director of Chabad of Las Cruces with his wife, Chenchie, sees Divine Providence at work throughout the whole process. Pinchus Sudak, a yeshivah student from London, was staying with the Schmuklers for a few days while on his way to the National Parks. The rabbi included the young man in the mitzvah of chesed shel emet—a mitzvah for which there is said to be no repayment in this world, only the next.

“We packed the car with 20 gallons of water, cloth, a shroud and soil from Israel—all needed for a kosher burial—and we set out on the 230-mile drive,” said Schmukler.

The rabbi notes that people often chose this burial site since no coffin is required, it is in a natural desert setting, and the cost is lower. The deceased was laid to rest in the Jewish section of the cemetery.

“We did the purification on site, cleaned the body and did the taharah on the desert floor,” recounted Schmukler. “We dressed him, said the prayers, and buried him in a shroud and tallit. The driver was watching in awe. He just had to see what we were doing. He even took my phone to take pictures.”

While this was the first time that the rabbi supervised a burial in the desert, he has organized funerals for elderly Jews in Las Cruces, a well-known retirement community given its warm weather and affordable cost of living. “We have a lot of seniors here and have saved some from cremation,” he said.

Schmukler estimates that 1,000 Jewish families live in Las Cruces, a town of 110,000 people. The Jewish community includes retirees, professors at New Mexico State University and medical students at the nearby Burrell College of Osteopathic Medicine at New Mexico State University. Tourists also often pass through on trips to the Southwest.

Schmukler’s Chabad House is one of four in New Mexico. In addition to his brother Rabbi Chaim Schmukler’s Chabad House in Albuquerque, which he co-directs with his wife, Devorah Leah, there are Chabad centers in Santa Fe and Taos.

“It felt like we were able to help a Jew when nobody else could,” said Rabbi Bery Schmukler. “It is about being there for another person. I hope it will inspire people to know that there are mitzvah opportunities out there.”

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Synagogue members and yeshivah students step up to ensure a proper Jewish burial

Original Article Published in the Chabad

NEW HAVEN, Conn.—The message on our shul’s WhatsApp group announcing, in caps, a MITZVAH OPPORTUNITY caught my attention. I admit to sometimes skimming or even ignoring such messages during a busy week, as they are usually about an upcoming class, a special Kiddush, or a kosher restaurant from out of town making a special delivery this week to our community. But “mitzvah opportunity” sounded important and even a bit time-sensitive.

Nonetheless, I ignored it for a day or two. I was sure one or two of the retirees would find the time for this 10 a.m. erev Shabbat mitzvah—not the best time to do anything but prepare for a Shabbat that comes in at 4:09 pm. But the text of the message kept playing over and over again in my mind:

Hi, all. Help is needed for a minyan for a funeral this Friday morning. Leonard Dipsiner, who was raised here in New Haven, just passed away at age 99 and has no immediate survivors other than his niece in NYC. His great niece is a friend of ours. The family would like to ensure that there is a minyan at his funeral. Can anyone assist?

When: Friday, Dec 10, 10:00 am

Place: B’nai Jacob Memorial Park (near SCSU)

If you can help with the minyan, please let me know

I began to picture this Jewish man—one who graced this earth for nearly a century—going to his final resting place without the proper respect, the kavod hamet, owed to everyone.

At our shul’s daily minyan midweek, I asked Len, a retired journalist and editor whose wife, Sue, had committed him to attend (via her response on the WhatsApp group), if he knew how the minyan was coming along. He had no idea.

Unsure that there would be a quorum at the gravesite, I reposted the “mitzvah opportunity” again on the WhatsApp group. This time, Aniko indicated that her husband, Andy, who survived the Holocaust in Hungary as a child, would be there. No other replies, though a few more details emerged:

…He was raised here in New Haven but spent most of his life in Atlanta, but the family plot is here

David, the friend kind enough to post this request, also wasn’t sure how the minyan was shaping up and suggested I write to the great niece, Rachel.

Reaching out to Yale and yeshivahs

In the meantime, others got on board. Someone from the shul posted a message on the board of another shul. A Yale graduate student, Miriam, shared the request within the Yale community. Ben, a young physician completing a fellowship at Yale quickly replied that he would come. Another wrote, “I will message a few people.”

The niece, Rachel, was relieved when I explained that I work part time at New Haven’s Yeshivas Beis Dovid Shlomo and would be willing to reach out to mesivta’s menahel, Rabbi Yosef Lustig. The busy menahel replied within seconds to my WhatsApp. Without hesitation, he said he’d have three students waiting downstairs at 9:40 a.m. for pick up in my old blue Ford Windstar minivan.

As I was driving to the yeshivah to pick up the students I received a nervous call from the niece, Rachel. She was concerned that we might not have a minyan. Due to a miscommunication, she was under the incorrect assumption that the other Chabad school in town had also been contacted.

As a result, I had told two people that we didn’t need them. Nevertheless, both were willing to be “on call.” Ronnie, the Yale mashgiach (kosher food service kosher supervisor) was willing to come with 10 minutes notice if needed on this busy erev Shabbat on campus. Another Yale student had offered to miss class to attend the funeral of a stranger—I had told him we’d be ok without him. Now I wasn’t so sure.

As Rachel drove up the Merritt Parkway to the cemetery, and as I drove from home to the yeshiva, we both did a quick calculation and realized we may indeed still be short. My first thought was to call the two “standbys”—until I realized that I was two minutes from the Chabad yeshiva!

I suggested to Rachel that I call Rabbi Lustig and ask for “two more.” We quickly did the math again and agreed that six post bar mitzvah males in my car (five students and me) plus the officiating rabbi plus two men from the shul plus a cousin of Rachel’s mother would bring us to 10. Rabbi Lustig agreed—as long as I could give the two additional students five minutes to get ready.

A Meis MItzvah

In the car, while waiting for our final two, I asked the three students—from Baltimore, New Jersey and Florida—if they knew what we were going to be doing. They answered, “A levaya.” A funeral. When I asked if Rabbi Lustig had provided additional details, they said no. “It is a funeral for a 99 year old man with no family.” “A meis mitzvah!” one exclaimed, referring to the Biblical imperative to attend to the remains of a dead person—especially one with no relatives.

The other two boys boarded the car and we drove to the cemetery, less than 10 minutes from the yeshiva, nestled between buildings of Southern Connecticut State University, and at the foot of West Rock Ridge. On this short Friday, the students would also go out in the community as they do every Friday—on mivtzaim (missions/visits)—to offices, stores, senior citizens housing, offering to wrap tefillin, sharing words of Torah, and wishing fellow Jews they encounter a good Shabbos. And this packed day was after being up until 4:30 am for a farbrengen. They made sure I knew it was the 5th of Tevet.

On this date in 1987, a United States Federal Court judge issued a decision in favor of Agudas Chassidei Chabad (“Union of Chabad Chassidim”) regarding the ownership of the library of the 6th Rebbe of Chabad-Lubavitch, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn. The Rebbe urged that the occasion be marked by purchasing, repairing and studying sefarim, Jewish holy books. For this reason, the yeshiva students were up from 11:30 p.m. to 4:30 a.m. the night before, learning words of Torah from their teacher, Rabbi Yosef Rivkin, the yeshiva mashpia.

When we arrived at the cemetery, the guys surveyed the landscape. We walked past the makeshift podium and under the tent erected by the funeral home. Without being told, they instinctively knew to remain standing, leaving the 7 seats for elderly guests. A local rabbi officiating the funeral chanted some Psalms and shared some details of the long life of the deceased. He noted that the person who knew him best would soon share more details. A 40ish man with a slight Irish accent began his remarks by noting that he referred to Mr. Dipsiner as Uncle Len.

After Yale Law School, Dipsiner served as an aerial combat photographer during World War II before opening antique shops in New Haven and Atlanta. (Credit: Howard Blas)

A Yale Graduate and Military Photographer

“Uncle Len was my godfather. He never married. He never learned to drive. He went to Yale Law School, then opened an antique store in New Haven. My brother and I loved the many cool objects in his store. When we were little, he bought us Legos. When we got older, the gifts became school tuition, car payments, help with houses. Uncle Len moved to Atlanta to be close to his closest friend, our father, Ralph.”

The crowd was intrigued A man with such a rich life story. And few blood relatives. The only non-Jew in the crowd knew the most about the deceased. “He used to tell us Chucky stories when we were growing up, which seemed part fiction and part autobiography. As I got older, I wanted to learn more. And I kept asking.”

Morgan’s persistence paid off. He learned that Mr. Dipsiner had been an aerial photographer during World War II, stationed in Belfast, Ireland—just 100 miles north of Dublin where Morgan now practices law and works as a musician. “He would lean out of the underside of planes and photograph enemy camps.” Morgan sensed there must be more. And he kept asking. Years later, Mr. Dipsiner shared the story of how he and fellow American soldiers went to Dachau after the liberation of the camp on April 29, 1945, by the 42nd and 45th Infantry Divisions and the 20th Armored Division of the US Army. They liberated approximately 32,000 prisoners. Mr. Dipsiner was responsible for chronicling what they saw in both photographs and videos. This was not an easy or pleasant undertaking. According to the US Holocaust Memorial Museum website, “As they neared the camp, they found more than 30 railroad cars filled with bodies brought to Dachau, all in an advanced state of decomposition. In early May 1945, American forces liberated the prisoners who had been sent on the death march.”

Morgan asked Mr. Dipsiner if he still had any photos or video. He did. Morgan suggested he donate them to the Jewish Historical Society of Greater New Haven. He did. Ironically, the museum is no more than half a mile from his final resting place. Morgan looks forward to the day when he can share this important first person account with his now 8 year old daughter.

As the rabbi was concluding, his niece asked to speak. She wished to thank the people who came out today to help a stranger have a proper send off. She thanked the older shul members but especially the yeshiva students. “This is true chesed shel emet, an act for which you can never be repaid,” she said.

The rabbi concluded with the kaddish and explained the custom of beginning to shovel dirt on the coffin to assist in the burial process. After a few minutes, the attendees walked to their cars. But not the yeshiva students, who wanted to finish covering the deceased with dirt.

They were told that they needed to wait until the tent and chairs were broken down, all cars were moved and the cemetery crew could come to hoist the very heavy cover on the gravesite. They waited patiently. One quietly asked if I could call the yeshiva to make sure there was water to wash their hands upon return to school. Two others sensitively asked the niece for the Hebrew name of the deceased. “He has no family to say kaddish. We will arrange for kaddish to be said at the yeshiva.” She promised to get it to me. The boys now know that Leibel Moshe ben Ephraim Fishel will never be forgotten.

The cemetery crew delivered two additional shovels. The five boys and I stayed another half hour. We shoveled and shoveled. The boys discussed the halacha (Jewish laws) of burial. “Which direction is the head? We need to make a mound with the dirt so it is high in the middle and slopes down. We need to use every bit of dirt. Let’s pick up the boards to make sure all of it goes in the grave.”

As we left the cemetery, I expressed my gratitude. They were already on to the next important mitzvah—fanning out around New Haven with pre-Shabbat business to conduct. One is a regular on my street. I will never forget these boys. These teenagers and their teachers have a lot to teach the community through their actions—about the importance of showing up and answering with a quiet and unhesitating “yes.” Thanks to them, I am sure 99 year old Mr. Dipsiner can rest in peace.

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The idea for an observant team came about when tristate-area youth grew tired of hearing stories from their parents of their own hockey-playing childhood.

Original Article Published in the JNS

At 9:30 p.m. on a recent Saturday night, players from the North Jersey Avalanche hockey league finished their game and walked off Rink 3 at the Ice House in Hackensack, N.J. They were tired and a bit dejected, after losing 4-1 to the Bandits hockey team, as well as mindful that in a little less than 10 hours, they would be back on the ice for a Sunday-morning game against the Devils—at 7:30 a.m.

The players—by then, ravished—took off their helmets, masks and pads, put down their sticks, and quickly devoured slices of pizza. Kosher pizza. Helmets were replaced with kipahs, and the lone girl on the team, Elly Younger, changed from her yellow Avalanche hockey uniform into a denim skirt and a blue long sleeve shirt.

The New Jersey Avalanche is a team of skilled skaters and stick-handlers, but it’s not your typical hockey club—the Avalanche are four Shomer Shabbat (Shabbat-observant) youth hockey teams of players ages 9 to 16.

Playing competitive hockey involves participating in four practices a week and competing in tournaments throughout the Northeast; and tournaments usually involve playing four games in a weekend. Scheduling is complicated for organizers who need to work around teams who cannot play from sundown on Friday until three stars appear 25 hours later on Saturday nights. Players and parents also have to make arrangements for kosher food, prayer services and Sabbath-friendly activities.

‘It was a good start’

The idea for an observant team came about when tristate-area youth grew tired of hearing stories from their parents of their own hockey-playing childhood. The parents wanted to provide their kids with the opportunity to try the sport on their own.

According to founder Tzvi Rudman, he and several parents approached the Englewood Field Club in 2001. “The rink was accommodating,” recounts Rudman, “even though the players could not play on Shabbat and Jewish holidays.”

North Jersey Avalanche hockey league member Elly Younger. Photo by Howard Blas.

And so, the team played most of their games on Saturday nights. “It was a good start,” says Rudman. “But the rink was outdoors, and it was small.”

They then approached one of the premier leagues in the area with four indoor rinks. The North Jersey Avalanche is a nationally ranked hockey organization under the guidance of Daniel May, Ice House hockey director and president who has more than 40 years of experience in youth hockey.

May and the Avalanche were willing to work with and accommodate the various needs of the young players. “The biggest and hardest part was explaining how the Shabbat start times and end times changed throughout the year. At first, they didn’t believe us,” recalls Rudman playfully. “They had to look it up! This is something we always took for granted. It was one of the most fascinating things.”

For his part, May says “we knew we could make the schedule work on our end but, we were concerned about league members’ cooperation with the schedule on their end. Fast-forward to today, we now have an observant team at almost every level. It takes a lot of extra administrative work—mostly by my wife, Monica, who schedules around 1,500 games combined for all 34 Avalanche teams, but she makes it work.”

The Avalanche started with one Sabbath-observant team in 2014—a number that has grown to four teams of 15 players: Squirts (ages 9-10), Peewees (ages 11-12), Bantams (ages 13-14) and Midgets (ages 15-16).

Rudman also notes that “there are no tryouts; you just have to say you want to be part of the team. That’s really nice.”

In spite of the commitment of time required for practices, games and travel, coupled with the sometimes challenging logistics of observing Sabbath on the road, the players and parents say they could not be happier with the results.

In fact, the big news is in late October, the oldest group won its division (Under-16, AA American) in the statewide 2021-22 New Jersey Youth Hockey League.

‘Prayer books, Torah scroll and meals together’

Michael Massel, who lives in Manhattan and attends the Shefa School, enjoys being part of a team and spending time with a diverse group of friends, both on and off the ice. “You get to play a sport. It is fun to play hockey with them, and also to chill with them and play mini-hockey at the tournaments.”

He admits, however, that “it’s also a little tiring.”

While the families seem pleased with the level of hockey, they are delighted with what their children have learned about being observant Jews and members of the Jewish community. Michael’s father, Morris, reports: “Our kids can be part of a team that is high-level hockey without compromise. They can live religious lives; there’s no such thing as a Shabbat problem.”

Massel also likes the fact that players and parents spend Shabbat together at tournaments. They bring prayer books and a Torah scroll, and eat Shabbat meals together. “We are all in it together, and the memories are unbelievable!”

Aaron Younger’s daughter, Elly, is the only girl on the team.” She attends YBH yeshivah in Passaic. “She loves skating, and she loves playing with the guys.”

Melanie Sosland of Englewood, N.J., has two boys in the league. Gabriel, age 11, plays on the Peewees, and Noah, age 14, plays on the Bantam. “They saw that other Englewood kids were playing, and they wanted to play as well,” she says.

Sosland concedes that playing four times a week is a big commitment but sees the benefits that go beyond sports. “It teaches a great work ethic and how to balance schoolwork with hockey. And the tournaments are amazing—with the Torah scroll and the kosher food. They will always remember it.”

North Jersey Avalanche hockey league member Michael Massel. Photo by Howard Blas.

Bringing Jewish observance “on the road” teaches the players to navigate sometimes complex real-life situations. They also have opportunities to serve as ambassadors for Judaism. Michael Massel recalls an incident where “one team had Shabbat issues in Delaware a couple of years ago, and the local Chabad pitched in.”

Rudman, the organization’s founder, recalls: “Seven years ago, the other teams on the road looked at us like we were from another planet when they saw our kipahs and tzitzit. Then we kicked butt during the games! Now, they all know our teams, and we are accepted.”

He also recalls a moving incident from a tournament in Providence, R.I. “We played a team with players from Colorado and Kansas. One kid came over and said, ‘I had two firsts this weekend—I saw the ocean for the first time, and I met a Jewish person for the first time.’ ”

“There is respect out there,” acknowledges Rudman, who takes the Jewish values and menschlichkeit piece very seriously, and encourages his players to remember that. In fact, he quips: “We sometimes send out reminders that we are being judged on a higher level.”

Rick Pomerantz of Englewood looks back with pride on what the league has accomplished over the years and on what it has meant for his family. His son, Alex Pomerantz, 13, is a second-year Bantam and attends the Moriah School. His father recalls that “the first year at the Ice House, Alex was one of three frum kids who played when there wasn’t a Jewish team. He loves the game and has since the first time he put on skates at 3 years old. What it has done is given him a chance to pursue his passion with high-level coaching, all without compromising our Judaic values. I know it sounds trite, but it’s true.”

He continues, saying “the teams have won tournaments, but if you speak to the parents, the most gratifying thing is that we have a beautiful minyan every day, and the entire group will eat together. The fact that we have been on tournaments with minyans of 40 men and had catered Shabbat dinners in [places like] Hershey, Pa., is unbelievable. It’s important for the kids to see that as religious Jews, you don’t have to compromise to do what you love.”

“There is no sport like hockey,” attests Pomerantz. “That’s why everyone who plays is passionate about it. The camaraderie and bonds that are made are priceless. Alex has made friends for life.”

Players on the Shomer Shabbat North Jersey Avalanche hockey league. Photo by Howard Blas.

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