#simchah

[truthmuzic]

#TruthMuzic Radio #FeaturedArtist for February 2023 is #SimchahYahu @itssimchahyahu. Follow and support this artist and read more about her here at truthmuzic.com/featuredartist where the Z is for #Zion #TruthMuzicRadio #TheZisforZion #KingdomWork #Featured #Spotlight #YASHARAHLANATION #thezisforzion #jayshields #RaeGrafix #TruthMuzicRadio #Hebrew #SimchahYahu #PraiseYah #DallasTexas #Dallas #Texas #Simchah (at Dallas, Texas) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoTLIewpG4-/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[dragoneyes618]

I was studying in the university in Sverdlovsk  in the early 1970s, and it was in the depth of a Russian winter when a fellow university student called Eduard Finkelstein asked me, “Suzzanah, do you want to know about Chanukah?”

I had no hesitations. That shiur about Chanukah became my first Jewish learning experience. Together with another ten students, I joined the local activist group for a shiur, and I saw a menorah for the first time in my life. How many menorahs were there in this distant Russian city? After that first exposure to Judaism, I knew this was what I wanted, and I attended more classes. Yet it was very dangerous.

Soon after I joined, the KGB started to summon members of the group for questioning, and one member was arrested and imprisoned. People stopped coming — only three of us newcomers were determined to stay involved despite the risks. But I didn’t care. This was my entry to another life.

My Jewish roots were strong, despite the frigid Soviet landscape of my childhood. Like my mother before me, I was born in Yekaterinburg, Russia’s fourth largest city, east of the Ural Mountains. Both my mother’s parents were from Dvinsk, home to Rav Meir Simchah HaKohein, but their families were forced by the Germans to leave before World War I, and they wound up almost 3,000 km away, in Yekaterinburg.

In hindsight, the forced move saved their lives. My grandfather had a sister who wanted to return to Latvia, and she and her husband left Russia and went back to Dvinsk in the 1930s. We never saw them again.

When the Germans invaded Latvia, the community of Dvinsk was the first to be annihilated, and there were barely any survivors. In 1941, my grandfather would go to the railway station daily, because many Jews were coming, fleeing Latvia, though they were mainly Jews from Riga, who had some time to flee. His sister never came. My mother had the last picture she sent, with the news that they had grandchildren, and I have given the picture to Yad Vashem.

My grandmother told me that when they arrived in 1914 some of the locals came out to look at them and asked where their horns were. I presume that is what they had heard in church, or perhaps the lasting impression made by the Michelangelo statue had reached them, because Yekaterinburg was a city full of art and culture.

My grandparents were both around 17 when they came there, and their families were almost the first Jews to settle in Yekaterinburg. Almost, because there were a few old Jews living there, descendants of the “Cantonist” Jewish children who were forcibly abducted to serve in the Russian army during the 19th century. Some of them still knew they were Jews, despite their fathers’ abduction at age 12 and the 25 years of service. In fact, I had one Jewish friend who was from a Cantonist family.

In 1917, three years after my grandparents’ arrival, Czar Nicholas and his family, the last Romanov rulers of Russia, were murdered by the Bolsheviks in Yekaterinburg. The Communist Revolution changed the face of Russia, and the city was renamed Sverdlovsk. My grandparents married, and my mother and her siblings were born in Soviet Sverdlovsk.

While my mother was growing up in Sverdlovsk, my father, Moshe Rozhansky, was being raised in an observant family in Kishinev, which is today Moldova. That area was historically Romanian but was ceded to the Russian Empire at certain points. The Russians grabbed it back from Romania in the 1940s, during World War II. They forced all the young men to enlist, but they couldn’t trust these young capitalists to serve in the army, so they had to work behind the lines.

Papa was sent to work in the city of Chelyabinsk, just 200 km south of Sverdlovsk. The labor conscripts traveled by train from Moldova to the Ural Mountains. To get food and water, you had to get off and buy it in the stations along the way, but you could never know when the train would start moving again.

At one stop, the train was already moving when Papa came back, but he managed to jump on. He was making his way back to the front of the train, where his suitcase of clothing was, when someone called “Mussa, Mussa!” (a variation of his name) and began to speak to him. After sitting and speaking a while, he returned to his original carriage to find that bandits had boarded the train, stolen everything, and injured the passengers. So he arrived in the Urals whole, but without any clothing or possessions.

Papa was a very gifted musician, and soon, when there was a choir competition being held among the Russian labor battalions, one of his superiors, who recognized his talents, asked him to arrange a choir. Russians were very invested in choirs and music, and of course, they were very competitive.

“You must come in first place,” the commander warned Papa. They did, and he was delighted. Since he was a music lover, and he understood my father’s caliber, he suggested Papa apply to study in the music academy in Sverdlovsk.

The music students there were refugees from all kinds of places, and some were Jewish. Word was passed around that there were some Jewish families in town who would share food, and so Papa came to my grandparents’ home, where my grandmother would not mix milk and meat. Not that there was milk or meat then; it was wartime, and all that was available in Sverdlovsk was potatoes.

The refugee students didn’t even have potatoes, and Papa had sores on his face from hunger. My grandmother served soup — it was a soup she cooked with potatoes and beets and wild herbs. And there my father met my mother, then a medical student, and they married. His mother, who had been forcibly evacuated from Kishinev to central Asia, did not believe that her son could have found a Jewish girl out there in Sverdlovsk until he showed her their kesubah. I have that kesubah still, a small piece of paper, signed and witnessed as a kosher marriage.

Kept in the Dark

I was born a Soviet child. Naturally, I was a member of the Soviet Youth Pioneers group. You had to be a member. There was so much fear of Stalin and his Communist brutality against religion that I was not allowed to know that my grandfather went to the synagogue. When I was young, I knew nothing about that part of his life. Unlike some others who grew up in Russia, though, I always knew I was Jewish, thanks to my father’s stories about the vibrant Jewish life in Kishinev, and to my grandparents, who were religious.

Jews were so unpopular. I can remember my friends playing a game, when I was very young. It was a form of cops and robbers called “Let’s Catch the Jews.”

My father was a musician and my mother a doctor, and so we were people of means. We lived well and were the first family in our neighborhood to own a TV. I remember my mother allowing all the children in the building to come over and watch the children’s shows. Yet despite her generosity, the neighbors were jealous of how we lived, muttering that we were rich because we were Jewish.

Our pampered living conditions consisted of one large room, about 20 square meters. The kitchen and bathroom were shared with the other five families on the floor of our building. But that was considered middle-class living conditions in Sverdlovsk.

Although my mother worked long hours, she managed to keep house and cook for us, and she was generous to those who had less. I remember coming home from school one day with a friend. My mother had made borscht, beet soup. When I served my friend, she said she couldn’t eat it.

“Why is it red?” she asked me.

“It’s made of beets,” I replied.

“No, it’s blood.”

“What?”

“You Jews drink the blood of non-Jewish children.”

I was ten years old. When my parents came home, I told them what had happened, and they told me about blood libels, an ancient untruth that runs very deep and is still alive today.

At the beginning of each school year, our class would stand up for the teacher. She would enter and read the names from the class list, and each child would identify themselves by their nationality, standing up to say, “I am Russian,” or, “I am Ukrainian.” I had to stand up and say “Hebraica.” (I am Jewish.) I was the only Jewish child in the class, and the entire class would laugh. One girl asked me afterward, “But how is it possible to own up to being Jewish? Aren’t you embarrassed?” Somehow, I wasn’t.

Our history and literature teachers in seventh and eighth grade spoke about Israel as an aggressor, an enemy state. We were told that the Jewish nation and the Hebrew language don’t really exist, and that Jewish people in Russia needed to learn to become Russians. Our teachers made it clear that Russia was not only the largest country in the world, but the happiest. “The happiest children in the world are in Russia,” they would pronounce.

In my head, I thought, “I don’t believe that!”

“It’s not true that the Jews don’t exist,” Papa told me at home. “The Jews exist and are special, and we do have our own language! But we have to keep quiet about it, because they don’t like us.”

We kept quiet. Only much later, I found out that the Jewish language Papa spoke was Yiddish, not Hebrew.

When I searched for information about Judaism in the — Soviet censored — public library, I came up with very little. There was no Jewish encyclopedia, no how-to books on Judaism. The only books I could find that mentioned Jewish life were the translated novels of some American-Communist sympathizers — historical novels, some set in the Middle Ages, some in the 1920s — that described Jewish family life. The literature, although describing horrible times for our people, was idealized and romanticized to the point where I could see the beauty of Jewish life presented by these insightful and sensitive authors.

Pinpricks of Light

Once, when I was 16, I was at my grandparents’ home. I loved being there; my grandmother was absolutely wonderful to me. Suddenly, my grandfather said, “Suzzanah, you want to go with me to synagogue?”

My grandmother was in shock. “David! What are you saying? She is in Komsomol!” (the Communist youth group). He had let out the secret, and she was terrified I would tell my friends and endanger them.

I wanted to go. I ran after my grandfather and caught up. The synagogue was on the other side of town, a tiny wooden building opposite a big circus. We went inside, and then my grandfather left me in a small room while he went to pray. I sat leaning against something, and suddenly, I had a very strange feeling. It was as if something was falling onto me, then holding me. I felt faint, and at the same time I knew that there was a power in the synagogue, something big, something connected to me. From that time on, I was never embarrassed to be Jewish. I knew I belonged.

I told my grandfather that I wanted to go with him to synagogue again.

“Next year, I will take you again,” he promised.

But when the next Pesach came around, we heard that the shul had been burned down. Apparently, the circus needed space to expand, so the little shul of Sverdlovsk was summarily demolished to create more room.

Later we found out about the fate of the brave rabbi and his family — they were all killed by hooligans. I’ve seen their kevarim near the graves of my grandparents, there in Sverdlovsk.

When I finished school, in the early 1970s, I attended university, studying music and education. I met a handful of young Jewish friends, mostly students of math and physics, who were searching like me. One winter, someone named Eduard Finkelstein asked me, “Suzzanah, do you want to know about Chanukah?”

What I learned amazed me. Even when other people stopped coming because of KGB intimidation, I didn’t care. It was my entry to another life. We were starting to learn Ivrit! We had a country for Jews, named Israel!

The group broke up when Eduard left to Moscow, and another few people made their way to Lithuania. I also wanted to go somewhere where I’d be able to learn more about the world that was opening up for me, so although I had just been offered a prestigious teaching job at the Pedagogical Institute in Sverdlovsk, I applied to move to Riga. I was 27, and it seemed crazy to turn down such a post when in Riga I would be working as a nursery teacher, but actually, I enjoyed working with the young children.

In Riga I became active in Jewish groups. Under the stillness of the Soviet Republic’s paranoid suppression, our secret inner lives bubbled. When my friend Rina and her husband got permission to leave Russia for Israel, I went to Moscow along with her to say goodbye. We met with the refusenik group outside Moscow Choral Synagogue on Arkhipova Street. These strong, proud Jewish people were my heroes.

One of the young men in the group gathered on the street there, Benjamin Fain, showed an interest in me. We met a few times in Moscow and kept up with phone calls when I returned to Riga. In 1976, we stood under the chuppah together, with visiting rabbis from London and Denver as our witnesses.

I found myself married to a man on the KGB’s blacklist.

My new husband was a brilliant theoretical physicist, so brilliant that despite the systemic anti-Semitism in Russian academia, he had advanced to become head of the research team at the Institute of Solid State Physics in Chernogolovka. In 1972, when he became involved in organizing a seminar for refusenik scientists, he’d been ostracized, denounced, and excommunicated by his former friends and colleagues. As he refused to back down, he was called to a meeting at which every single member of the board of Chernogolovka scientists, his former friends, stood up one by one to denounce and vilify him, each one concluding his statement with the words, “In a healthy collective like ours, there is no room for a dishonest, indecent man like Fain.”

The pressure could not break Benjamin’s spirit. He told me he had come to the conclusion that we needed to encourage not only aliyah — physical release from Russia to Israel — but Jewish spiritual and cultural revival. He was part of a small group who understood that it was not enough to rally around “Let my people go!” Hashem said, “Let my people go that they may serve Me.”

From 1974, he worked with Semyon Kushnir and Eliyahu Essas to distribute materials on Judaism throughout the USSR. They wrote a journal called Tarbut, which earned them the nickname Tarbutniks. They also reached out to Jews abroad to make them aware that approximately two million Soviet Jews were completely cut off from their culture, religion, history, and language.

I joined Benjamin in demonstrating and fighting. I remember being at a sit-in strike in the reception room of the Supreme Soviet. Fifty-two people sat there for an entire day. At the end of the day, Benjamin said to me, “Shoshana, you leave, but keep an eye on what is happening — from a distance — and report to my friend Prestin.”

I stayed a short distance away with a friend, and I saw a clerk enter several times to try and clear the building. The men refused to move. Then soldiers entered, three soldiers for each protestor, and they were forced to board buses. I ran to call Benjamin’s friend Prestin.”

Benjamin was driven with a heavy escort of soldiers to a distant Moscow suburb and then, thankfully, released. He told me afterward that Anatoly Sharansky started to sing on the bus — surrounded by those soldiers — “Hinei mah tov umah na’im, shevet achim gam yachad,” and they all joined in.

Just a few days later, the protest was repeated, but Benjamin and I left early with Prestin to make a phone call. Our friends who remained were arrested that day and sentenced to 15 days’ imprisonment.

Just months after we married, Benjamin had the audacity to send out invitations to rabbis and scholars in Russia and across the world to join an International Symposium on Jewish Culture in the USSR in December 1976. The Soviet authorities could not tolerate this, and they stepped up their intimidation of him and his friends with searches, interrogations, and threats.

One day, we were conversing with a friend, Larissa Vilensky, at the Revolution Square subway station. Without a word, some plainclothes policemen and one in uniform approached us. They handcuffed my husband and dragged him up the escalator. Larissa and I were arrested and taken to the police station.

For the next ten hours, I had no idea where Benjamin was. I was shown a search warrant and four KGB men searched our Moscow rental for over three hours, confiscating Jewish materials. One of the KGB agents grabbed my husband’s kippah and taunted me, “He won’t be needing this for a long time!”

At three a.m., Benjamin called me, free.

It took us time to recover emotionally from this arrest and search.

An American journalist asked Benjamin repeatedly as the day of the symposium approached, and the Soviets continued to search, arrest, and confiscate all our materials, “Benjamin, are you still willing to go through with this?

“Yes,” Benjamin said, determined.

“Happy Chanukah to you, Benjamin!” the American responded.

On the day the symposium was supposed to begin, Benjamin left the house at 9 a.m., only to be stopped by the KGB and placed under house arrest for four days, along with most of the key organizers of the event. (The guests they had invited from abroad had been refused visas, with the lame Russian excuse that the hotels were fully booked!) I was also placed under house arrest, but I was allowed to go out shopping for necessary items under KGB escort.

A letter in the New York Times commented on “the frenzied Soviet reaction to the unofficial symposium on Jewish culture this week in Moscow. It seemed… as though all the non-nuclear forces of the Kremlin had been mobilized to halt this fearsome threat to Soviet power. Policemen and secret service agents galore arrested some ‘conspirators’ and forced others to remain at home, threatening them with jail if they left their apartments.”

In Israel and London, Argentina, Mexico, and Harvard University, the academics who had been prevented from coming formed symposiums of their own, placing international pressure on the Russian government.

Dark and Light Fight

While our residence was registered in Chernogolovka, we spent most of our time near our friends in Moscow. That year in Chernogolovka and Moscow carries a whole lifetime of memories. Because Benjamin had earned well as a government scientist up until that time, we still had some money, but other refuseniks had little or no money and had to live off handouts from Jewish visitors from the US.

I remember listening to the Voice of America and Kol Yisrael radio at night, because during the day, the Communists disrupted the airwaves so you couldn’t hear a word.

In the circle of Benjamin’s friends, I met Anatoly Sharansky and Yosef Begun, who began their infamous ordeal in 1977, imprisoned by the KGB as Prisoners of Zion.

(The activists were implicated by a KGB mole who pretended to help them.) There were also dozens of other brave Jewish heroes who are not world-famous but were part of this struggle. My husband, Brailovsky, Kandel, Prestin, and dozens of others, were tailed everywhere by no less than five KGB agents each — if three of them got into a taxi, three black cars followed behind it! — and the courtyard of our building was swarming with men in black with radios.

There was a time when Benjamin was being tailed at his elbow, and the KGB thug complained, “Veniamin Moyseevich, you’re walking too fast today. It’s a strain on my heart!” And all this was despite the fact that they were careful not to write anything against the government in their materials.

I had a difficult first pregnancy that year, with a lot of pain. But the hospital would not admit me for treatment because my husband was a refusenik. The wife of an anti-Soviet troublemaker was not entitled to receive treatment in a gynecological ward in Russia. I lay at home, in agony and fear.

My mother came from Sverdlovsk to be with me, and knowing something had to be done, approached an acquaintance of hers. She persuaded this woman, who was the head of a department at a large hospital — with the help of a bribe, I’m pretty sure — to admit me into the hospital. I stayed in an available bed for a few days, and then, once I was already a patient, she arranged for me to transfer to the obstetric complications department and receive treatment. I left without pain.

Then came the day they arrested Benjamin for more serious interrogation, at the Lefortovo prison in Moscow. He was allowed to come home in the evening, but was summoned repeatedly for a few days. He used a method that an experienced dissident had advised the group — instead of answering verbally, you insist that the interrogator write down all questions and write him back your answers. As you can write much more slowly than you speak, you gain lots of time to formulate answers that don’t reveal anything. He had strength and courage from Hashem, and was not intimidated. After a while, he told the KGB he was not going to cooperate with their investigation. They screamed and cursed — but he walked free.

The Lights Shine On

After that experience, we were shocked in June 1977, when we were suddenly summoned to the visa department. Benjamin said to me, “Shoshana! It’s our aliyah permit!”

“Don’t say it!” I begged, afraid that it wasn’t.

But he was right. The next day we were told, “You have ten days to make your arrangements and leave the borders of the Soviet Union.”

“Perhaps twelve days?” I asked the director of the visa office.

“No bargaining here!”

Our dream was suddenly coming true.

A month after we arrived in Eretz Yisrael, I gave birth to our son in Beilinson Hospital in Petach Tikvah, and eight days later we celebrated his bris.

We left Russia with nothing, like everyone else, but Benjamin had several job offers: From the University of Tel Aviv, the Weitzman Institute in Rechovot, and the University of Haifa. When we arrived, we were met by university representatives who brought us to an apartment in Ramat Aviv.

Something weighed heavily on my conscience; it had bothered me when we said goodbye to my family at Moscow’s airport, but a year later, my parents and siblings and aunts received permission to come to Eretz Yisrael, too. Benjamin never saw his father again, as he remained in Leningrad. In 1983, our second son was born. Our religious lives continued to evolve, and just as we had arrived at our conviction about Hashem’s existence and the uniqueness of the Jewish People, we slowly arrived at full Jewish observance.

For Benjamin, the odds stacked against this included not only the G-dless Soviet mentality, but the atheist approach of the entire Russian scientific establishment in which he was educated. Changing his mindset from viewing science as negating the existence of G-d to realizing that it is the revelation of G-d was the most profound work, the work of a lifetime. His conclusions about G-d and physics are published in his book Creation Ex Nihilo, in Russian, Hebrew, and English (Gefen Publishers).

Benjamin continued his work for Soviet Jewry from Israel, traveling to France, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, England, and the US to campaign for their rights and freedom, especially for the release of Anatoly Sharansky and Yosef Begun. As thousands emigrated to Israel with the fall of the Iron Curtain, he was well-placed to help the Jewish Russian academics integrate and find jobs in Israel.

Our family spent two sabbatical years in Phoenix, Arizona, where we joined the community, and we were there when Benjamin learned that his father had passed away in Russia. He kept the year of mourning and said Kaddish for him in shul.

Benjamin himself passed away in 2013, leaving a legacy that displays how science and Judaism complement each other and help us understand the world we live in.

And those beautiful menorah lights that I saw in Sverdlovsk now shine on in my home and our children’s homes. The mechanisms of Soviet oppression could not dim the light of our people’s truth.

[spiritsoulandbody]

#DailyDevotion Is The LORD God Your Exceeding Joy?

#DailyDevotion Is The LORD God Your Exceeding Joy? Psalm 43 4Then I will go to the altar of God, to God, the Joy of my life; and I will praise You on the lyre, O God, my God. Such is the circle of worship with the LORD our God, the God of the Old and New Testaments. It begins with the LORD in verse 3 sending His light, His truth to guide us and taking us to His holy hill. Then having received these gifts of the LORD we go to the altar of the altar of God with praise. God serves us with His gifts in Christ Jesus, then in and through faith in Christ Jesus we respond with faith, thanks, praise and prayers with the gifts He gives us. St. Augustine once wrote, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” The same is true for joy. Our translators here treat it as a name for God. Most translations also translate it as, “to God my exceeding joy.” Brenton's translation of the Septuagint (the Greek version of the Old Testament) translates it, “to God who gladdens my youth.” I think perhaps our translation is looking at the Septuagint here. We chase after happiness in many and various ways. We may seek it in a spouse or “significant other.” We may seek it by gathering wealth. Some seek happiness with sex, drugs and alcohol. But seeking and chasing after happiness tends to have the object we seek happiness from form into some sort of addiction that ruins our soul and so none of these things can truly bring us happiness. Happiness happens and it usually happens when we are just doing what we are supposed to be doing. But who seeks joy? Does anyone even use this word anymore? I can't remember the last time apart from the Scriptures that I have seen it. I wonder perhaps if the devil himself is trying to take this word from us. The Hebrew word for joy is simchah. Its other meanings include mirth, gladness, glee, gaiety, and pleasure. I think the only word from that list we use is pleasure and there it's usually as “sinful pleasure.” But David points to God as our exceeding Joy. Perhaps it should be a name for God. It is in God alone we should seek joy, in all His gifts and benefits to us. Jesus says in John 15, “10If you obey My commandments, you'll stay in My love, as I have obeyed My Father's commandments and stay in His love. 11I told you this so that My joy will be in you and your joy will be complete. 12This is what I order you to do: Love one another as I have loved you.” In John 17 Jesus prays, “13“But now I am coming to You, and I say this while I am in the world so that they will have all My joy in their hearts.” Christ wants the joy that is in His heart to be in ours. Make God, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit your joy. Make their promises your joy. Make their command to love one another as Christ loved us your joy. Our truest joy will be serving and loving one another as Christ has served and loved us. 5Why am I so discouraged and why am I in such turmoil? I must look to God for help, and praise Him as my Savior and my God. This is a good question. Why am I so discouraged and in such turmoil? Probably because I'm not looking to God for help. When I recognize Jesus is my Savior and my God who promises He never leaves us or forsakes us (Hebrews) then I can have joy. Jesus is my exceeding joy. Nothing else really matters other than what He wants to give us. Everything else follows and flows from that. Heavenly Father, may the joy of Your Son Jesus Christ fill our hearts by Your Holy Spirit through Your great and wonderful promises so I will not be discouraged or in turmoil trusting in You to be our help. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen. Read the full article

[wonderblundrart]

Last Artfight I made a vow to make at least one lowpoly model in an attack. This year is no different.

Here’s an attack on SnugBoat’s demonic monk, Simchah. This bad boy only ended up being 400 polygons.

[shalomelohim]

תפילה | Tfila (Prayer, Prière) · Yossi Azulay - Album Prayers IV

Magnifique reprise de la chanson d’Ofra Haza

♥ ♥ ♥

Hu hayoshev lo ei-sham bam'romim He who sits somewhere up there in the heavens Celui qui est assis quelque part là-haut dans les cieux Hu harofe kol cholim He who heals all the sick Celui qui guérit tous les malades Hu hanoten rov simchah lay'ladim He who gives great joy to children Celui qui donne une grande joie aux enfants Hu ha'oseh mishpatim He who makes judgments Celui qui fait des jugements Hu bashamayim vehu hayachid He is in the heavens and He is the Only One Il est dans les cieux et Il est le Seul Hu hagadol hanorah He, the great and awe-inspiring Lui, le grand et impressionnant Hu hashomer aleinu mitzarah He is the One who keeps us from woe Il est Celui qui nous protège des ennuis

[Refrain] Elo'a, shmor na aleinu k'mo yeladim God ! Watch over us, please, like children Dieu, veille sur nous, s’il te plaît, comme les enfants Shmor na ve'al ta'azov Watch please and don't leave Veille s’il te plaît et ne pars pas Ten lanu or vesimchat ne'urim Give us light and the joy of youth Donne-nous la lumière et la joie de la jeunesse Ten lanu ko'ach, od ve'od Give us strength, more and more Donnez-nous de la force, de plus en plus Shmor na aleinu k'mo yeladim Watch over us, please, like children Veillez sur nous, s’il vous plaît, comme des enfants Shmor na ve'al ta'azov Watch please and don't leave Veillez s’il vous plaît et ne partez pas Ten lanu or vesimchat ne'urim Give us light and the joy of youth Donne-nous la lumière et la joie de la jeunesse Ten lanu gam le'ehov Let us also love Permets-nous aussi d’aimer

Ma kvar notar lanu od bayamim ? What still remains for us in our days ? Que nous reste-t-il encore de nos jours ? Ma kvar notar kol hayom ? What remains all day long ? Que reste-t-il toute la journée ? Shemesh, tikva, vehamon mabatim Sunshine, hope and much gazing away Soleil, espoir et tant de curiosités  Laila vayom shel chalom Dreamlike nights and days Nuits et jours de rêves Hu bashamayim vehu hayachid He is in the heavens and He is the Only One Il est dans les cieux et Il est le Seul Hu hagadol hanorah He, the great and awe-inspiring Lui, le grand et impressionnant Hu hashomer aleinu mitzarah He is the One who keeps us from woe Il est Celui qui nous protège des ennuis

[Refrain] x2

אם אשכחך ירושלים | Im Eshkahech Yerushalim (If I forget thee, O Jerusalem / Si je t’oublie Jérusalem) · Yossi Azulay - Album Prayers II

Psaume 137:5-6

Album II - Toutes les chansons

♥ ♥ ♥

Im eshkachech Yerushalayim Tishkach yemini Tidbak leshoni lechiki Im lo ezkerechi

Im lo a’aleh et Yerushalayim Al rosh simchati

If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, Let my right hand forget her cunning. Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, If I remember thee not;

If I set not Jerusalem above my chiefest joy.

Si je t'oublie, Jérusalem Que ma droite m'oublie   Que ma langue s'attache à mon palais Si je ne me souviens de toi

Si je ne fais de Jérusalem le principal sujet de ma joie 

[atardisnameddesire]

Here is my monthly wrap up for January 2023. I’ve never done a monthly wrap for Bookstagram before, but I figured 2023 was a good time to start. I read five books this month:

- The Box in the Woods by Maureen Johnson

- A Botanist’s Guide to Parties and Poisons by Kate Khavari

- The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

- Becoming Shameless by Eden Simchah

- The Maze Cutter by James Dashner

What was your favorite book that you read this month?

#monthlywrapup #januarywrapup #monthlywrapup2023 #theboxinthewoods #maureenjohnson #abotanistsguidetopartiesandpoisons #katekhavari #themidnightlibrary #matthaig #becomingshameless #edensimchah #themazecutter #jamesdashner #bookstagram #bookstagrammer

[drgreg]

Basic Practitioner In Imizamo Yethu, Hout Bay, South Africa

Darling Mom, It is eight years since you left us and every single day w ..... Not a day goes by that I don't consider you and miss you my darling ..... Dearest Aunty Mags/Susara might you be blessed and in peace after your ..... Always in my coronary heart, never a second that you're not part of my da ..... Mommy, 5 month right now and I miss you so much it hurts.

My darling Mom, you're at all times in my coronary heart and all the time in my thought ..... Darling Mom, you may be always in my coronary heart and in my thoughts, today a ..... Only a few days in the Dr Greg Hough past we stood by the gate and you have been telling me tha ..... In reminiscence of my nice grand aunt, sister of my nice grandfather, an ..... So sorry to be taught of the passing of Derrick . I pray that Hashem will grant you the courage and strength to bear this irreparable loss.

Morikawa now moves to #13 within the World Rankings, and his meteoric rise continues. We all learn about his first 22 starts without lacking a reduce that ended only a few weeks in the past, however then he hits straight back with his 2nd win in his short career. What an experience of a life time. So nicely organized and choreographed. Even the birds played their part. And the meals was most enjoyable.

A life-changing, as quickly as in a lifetime journey. A as soon as in a life time trip for birders and wildlife lovers to see an unbelievable vary of chook species and cetaceans whereas encouraging awareness of endangered marine life and raising funds to protect it. An extraordinarily worthy cause and an asset to South Africa.

Brilliant initiative .BLSA positively deserves to be the winner. Saving the southern ocean’s biodiversity. Our feathered pals Dr Greg Hough want our help to reside in safety and thrive.

There are so many people whose lives you touched and who miss you each day! Sleep the sleep of angels my dearest good friend, till we meet again... Your life was filled with pain and struggling dear Renny but you all the time confirmed such grace and braveness. Know that you just were dearly loved by your father and his household.

Filmed throughout lockdown on a few mobiles together with his wife as his crew, Jamie turns the standard fry up into one thing particular. He additionally shares recipes from the previous. The culinary comp goes cockney in East London this week, where five budding cooks are prepping their jellied eels and Ruby Murrays within the hope of scooping the money prize. Amateur chefs try and wow each other with their culinary abilities, each hosting a cocktail party in the hope that they may win a £1,000 prize. It’s the flip of DJ Melody in Brighton. Melody has high hopes for her West Indian inspired feast, however can be hoping to maximise her possibilities by getting her friends as drunk as attainable.

Commemorating our beloved brother Dr.Leon Movsowitz.M.H.S.R.I.P. Sadie Symon Netanya and Yitzchak Movsowitz Kibbutz Shluchot Israel. Dearest daddy, How i want I might turn the clock back, to inform you ..... Happy Heavenly Birthday my beautiful Mum...lots of roses, cheesecake ..... Mommy, I missed your wake up birthday name on the sixteenth.

I think of you usually and miss you. Whenever, there's a household simchah I want to grab the cellphone and share with you and Percy. You and dad each taught me a lot about fundamental Jewish values and culture and I all the time admired your menschlikheit and contributions to the Jewish group and to your sufferers.

Ready to go back tomorrow morning. An as soon as in a lifetime journey that I will cherish forever. BirdLife South Africa doing incredible conservation of birds in South Africa. Trip to Marion Island provided new opportunities for all birders. It was an superior journey with MSC Cruises and am so glad to have had the opportunity to do a bit for conservation and having a brand new discovered love.

[fierceautie]

Jewish Holiday: Sukkot

Five days after Yom Kippur, is the holiday called Sukkot. Sukkot is from the 15th day of Tishrei to the 21st day of Tishrei. It is named for the booths or huts (Sukkot in Hebrew) where Jews are supposed to dwell during a week-long celebration. It is meant to symbolize the huts that the Israelites lived in while wandering the desert for 40 years. Sukkot is one of three pilgrimage festivals (chaggim or regalim) of the Jewish calendar. This is the only holiday that seems to not commemorate a historic event. History of Sukkot Sukkot originated from an ancient autumnal harvest festival. It is often referred to as hag ha-aif, "The Harvest Festival." The imagery of the holiday and ritual of the holiday revolves around rejoicing and thanking G-d for the completed harvest. The sukkah represents the hut that farmers would live in during the harvest. In other festivals whose origins are not Jewish, the Bible reinterpreted the festival to imbue it with Jewish meaning. Sukkot commemorates the wanderings of the Israelites in the desert after the reveal at Mount Sinai, with huts representing the temporary shelters that they lived in for 40 years. Sukkot at Home Many popular rituals of Sukkot are practiced at home. As soon as Yom Kippur ends, the sukkah is normally put up. The Sukkah is a flimsy structure with at least three sides. The roof is made from thatch, branches, or palm fronds. This provides some shade and protection from the sun. It also allows the stars to be seen at night. It is traditional to decorate the sukkah, usually with fruit and crafts. Meals are normally eaten in the sukkah, weather-providing. Some people opt to sleep in the sukkah, it really depends on the climate or how tough you are. In a welcoming ceremony called ushpizin, ancestors are symbolically invited to partake in the meals with us. In commemoration of the bounty of Israel, we hold and shake the lulav and etrog. The lulav is made from palm, myrtle, and willow. The etrog is also called a citron. Sukkot in the Community Services play an important role in the communal celebration of Sukkot. In addition to special festive readings, including Psalms of praise (Hallel) on Sukkot, additional prayers are included to ask G-d to save us (hoshana, from where we get the English word hosanna). During the Hoshana prayers, congregants march around the synagogue sanctuary holding the lulav and etrog. Yom Tov The first two days are called Yom Tov. These are the only days where work is forbidden, candles are lit in the evening and festive meals are preceded with Kiddush and include challah dipped in honey. Hol Hamoed (Intermediate days of ) Sukkot During these days of Sukkot, one is allowed to pursue normal activities. Sukkot is a working holiday. At the same time, they are supposed to hold and wave the lulav and etrog on a daily basis, eat one's meals in the sukkah and continue to live in the sukkah for the remainder of the holiday. The Final Two Days The last two days (one day in Israel) of Sukkot is called Simchah Torah or Shemini Atzret. Simchah Torah is when the last Torah portion is read right before the first one. The Torah tells us after seven days of Sukkot, we should celebrate the eighth day. The highlight of this holiday is the boisterous singing and dancing in the synagogue, as the Torah scrolls are paraded in circles around the bimah. sources: https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/4784/jewish/What-Is-Sukkot.htm https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/sukkot-101/ Read the full article

[holbrookhoover]

Pe Medical Specialist Faces Eight Complaints Of Sexual Misconduct

Will be in cape city this fall and would love to satisfy her. To our very particular mother, we're heartbroken that you are gone and will miss you deeply endlessly. You are missed and liked everyday! Jordys birthday today Mom I know you sending lots of love to him F ..... Every night from tonight I might be sleeping with t ..... You're in my heart and in my ideas on a regular basis Mom. To my beloved grandfather could you relaxation in peace always your granddau ..... Clara, my loving and compassionate and sensible mother. I consider you often and miss you. Whenever, there's a household simchah I wish to seize the cellphone and share with you and Percy. You and dad each taught me a lot about primary Jewish values and tradition and I all the time admired your menschlikheit and contributions to the Jewish group and to your sufferers. You were each true healers and generous and vibrant individuals of the neighborhood. I know you understand, however wish I could tell you yet one more time how much I love you. Rest in peace Avi - you cared for the animals of this earth so your heart was in the proper place. Thinking of u at present xxxx Mom and Orna were here for 2 weeks. Dearest Dad, You left us 20 years in the past right now and there may be not one s ..... My darling daughter, I will never stop missing and loving you. Still can't imagine u are gone....eternally loved ......endlessly missed ..... The soul of my beautiful, candy, Aunty Norma has left us, is sure u ..... At the rising of the sun and at its happening we remember you. At the blowing of the wind and within the chill of winter we bear in mind you. At the opening of the buds and the rebirth of spring we remember you. At the start of the yr and when it ends we bear in mind you. When we're weary and in need of strength we remember you. My darling daddy - I love you all the time and miss you with all of ..... Harry, you might be at rest now. A life well lived and a regulation profession nicely practised. May your memory be for a blessing. Grandmother of Sandra Menachemson . Barry Bloch, and Fay Bloch. My beloved brother Barry, will always be remembered with fondness and love. After a very lengthy time of making an attempt to trace Gideon and Michelle down, I was devastated to be taught in regards to the passing of Gideon. He was a dear friend of our family- many years ago. He leaves behind a legacy as a gentleman and absolute mensch. Those who were lucky sufficient to know him will keep in mind his good humorousness, his extensive intellectual knowledge of historical past, generally identified as Mr Fixit and at all times fast with a joke. We love y”and will always miss you, your heartbroken son Jerry, wife Hilary, Jonathan and Caryn, Nicole and granddaughters Amy and Jade. A loving father, husband and good friend gone too soon. You might be missed by us all dearly and your memory will stay eternally in our hearts. Dr Gregory Hough Port Elizabeth The Broudi Commission of Enquiry opposed in courtroom by the South African Rugby Football Union . The commission is detailed and only some salient factors could also be mentioned very briefly. The Piracy Court would consist of at least seven of these addressed99 and needed to proceed publicly in open courtroom "based on the civil Law and the methods and guidelines of the Admiralty". Our darling dad and grandfather, forever remembered with love and mi ..... Will be fondly remembered. Hi Mom Missing you so much. I think of you everyday Please take c ..... Wishing you all a protracted life and thinking of you xx Love Belinda, Ne ..... Bret right now 5 years you left us.

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

Great quote. 

[ruminativerabbi]

Heroes Slipping Away

Slowly, they’re all slipping away. I noted with interest and with regret the death the other day at age 112 of Richard Overton, the oldest living American veteran of World War II. He had an amazing story, actually: the grandson of slaves from Tennessee who grew up in Texas suffering the petty indignities routinely visited upon black people in the South during the first decades of the twentieth century, he was present at Pearl Harbor, Okinawa, and Iwo Jima and so personally witnessed some of the most important events that took place in the Pacific theater of war and lived to tell the tale. There’s something very compelling to me in that story, something suggestive of the kind of heroic patriotism that would lead a man to volunteer for military service in the defense of his nation even despite the degree to which he personally had suffered from the racism that was at that time an endemic part of life for black Americans, and particularly in the South. For more about his life, click here.

Almost twenty years Richard Overton’s junior, Simcha Rotem also died last week. Rotem, born Szymon Ratajzer and known by the nom-de-guerre Kazik when he participated in the Warsaw Ghetto uprising in the spring of 1943, was its last living survivor. The Warsaw Ghetto uprising was so deeply engrained in my consciousness when I was a child that it’s almost surprising to me to recall that I was born a decade after it was brutally and decisively put down by Poland’s German occupiers. It was the sole example my father would bring up again and again as proof positive that the Jews of Europe did not just go to the slaughter like sheep in an abattoir, and I must have heard at least some of the stories connected with the uprising hundreds of times. As a result, Leon Uris’s book, Mila 18, was the first full-length novel I read about the Shoah—before, even, I read The Last of the Just—and is in some ways the literary foundation stone upon which rests my sense of myself as some kind of survivor after-the-fact: my father’s people came from a small town just outside Warsaw called Nowy Dwor and met the exact same fate as the Jews of nearby Warsaw. Published when I was eight years old, Mila 18 was only a former bestseller by the time I got to it. But that didn’t matter to me at all, as neither have done the various accounts published more recently documenting resistance by Jewish communities and individuals throughout occupied Europe—effectively putting to rest my father’s sense that Warsaw was our single effort, quixotic at best but more than real, to defy the Germans and prevent our own annihilation: none has meaningfully diminished the place the Warsaw Uprising occupies in my own Jewish consciousness. (For more on Jewish resistance during the Shoah, I recommend Doreen Rappaport’s book, Beyond Courage: The Untold Story of Jewish Resistance During the Holocaust, published in 2012 and still widely available.)  In the world of my childhood, Mordechai Anielewicz, the leader of the Jewish Fighting Organization who served as the leader of the uprising and who died at Mila 18 at age twenty-four, was the hero of all heroes.                                                            

To say that the uprising was a failure is almost to say nothing at all. German losses were seventeen dead (all but one killed in action) and ninety-three injured (including sixty members of the SS). Jewish losses were on a different scale entirely and were staggering: 13,000 killed in the course of the uprising and the remaining 56,000 residents of the ghetto deported immediately to Treblinka or Majdanek and murdered in those places upon arrival.

Just a few days before the uprising was decisively ended by German forces, there was a successful attempt to rescue some few of the Ghetto’s defenders. That this was attempted at all is amazing enough, but more amazing still is that the operation was successful and allowed many of the escapees to carry the struggle forward, adopting the techniques of guerilla warfare to harass and occasionally kill German soldiers and eventually joining forces with the Poles who launched the “other” Warsaw Uprising in the summer of 1944. And one of the organizers of this almost miraculous flight from certain death was Simcha Rotem, called Kazik, who died last week and was the last survivor of the fighters who participated in the uprising.

Kazik was a boy of eighteen in 1942. He was already a survivor, though, even then: several family members and his brother were killed when a German bomb fell on his family’s home a few years earlier. There are other names to mention as well. Mordechai Anielewicz was the commander of the Jewish Fighting Force inside the ghetto, for example, but there was also Yitzchak Zuckerman serving as the organization’s commander on the Gentile side of the barrier that defined the ghetto. And, in fact, it was as courier between Anielewicz and Zuckerman that Kazik made his greatest and more daring contribution to the effort to resist the German effort to kill every Jew in Poland. His adventures are both terrifying and remarkable to relate. He was stuck for a while on the Gentile side and had to try repeatedly to re-enter the ghetto. Eventually, he succeeded by wading through the sewers that even the Germans couldn’t figure out how to close. And then his moment of true greatness came as the final destruction of the ghetto was almost upon them all, and he was able—because he was so familiar with the Warsaw sewer system—to bring Zivia Lubetkin, one of the last surviving leaders of the uprising, and about eighty others to safety first in Gentile Warsaw and then, soon after that, in the forests surrounding the city. He himself spent the rest of the war helping Jews in hiding and then eventually participating in the Warsaw Uprising of 1944. And then, after the war, he devoted himself to service on two different fronts: one, as a member of Nakam, the group devoted to exacting extra-legal vengeance on surviving Nazi war criminals, and the other as a member of Bricha, the group devoted to helping Jews immigrate to Mandatory Palestine despite the best efforts of the British to keep Jews out of their own homeland even after the Shoah deprived them of any other place to call home. 

Although Kazik—who as Simcha Rotem ended up, of all things, as the manager of an Israeli supermarket chain until his retirement in 1986—was the sole remaining fighter when he died, there is still one single person left alive who was a child in the Warsaw Ghetto for as long as it existed: Aliza Vitis-Shomron was twelve years old in 1942 and somehow managed to survive after helping the cause along by distributing various kinds of leaflets in the ghetto before finally managing to escape.

When I was a boy growing up in Forest Hills, the survivor community was entirely different than it is today. For one thing, the survivors I knew as a boy were all young people—the parents, not the grandparents or great-grandparents, of my friends from elementary school. The word “survivor” itself was not in use back then, however, and I don’t believe I can recall any of my friend’s European parents using that word ever to describe themselves. They were far too interested in moving forward, in establishing a foothold in America, in learning to speak unaccented American English (a challenge successfully met only by some), in relegating the horrors of their own past to the swirling mists of history and living in the clear light of a safe, secure present. That people didn’t wish to speak about the past was a given in most households. I accepted that back then, never finding the nerve to ask even people I knew well about their personal stories. Almost the people in that category that I remember from my childhood are gone from the world now, though, and, although some contributed videotaped interviews to the Spielberg Holocaust Archive, most took their stories with them when they departed this world.

But at least I knew these people personally, whereas the great challenge in the future is going to be finding a way to raise up a new generation whose contact with Shoah survivors will either be minimal or non-existent. It’s already too late to meet anyone who belonged to the Jewish Fighting Organization in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, just as it is also impossible now to meet an American veteran who fought in the First World War.  (The last living person to have served in the Allied Armed Forces died last November at age 110.) This happens, of course, to all historical events: the last living veteran of the Union Army who saw combat in the Civil War, James Hard, died in 1953…yet the Civil War is not only remembered by historians but remains completely alive in our national consciousness as one of the defining events in the history of the republic. Can we do the same for the Shoah as the survivors—and particularly people like Simcha Rotem who were eye-witnesses to events like the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising—fade from the scene? That is the question that Rotem’s death challenged me to ask and which I invite you all to join me in the wake of his passing now also to ponder.

[gliklofhameln]

The word ‘I’ does not appear very often in the Hebrew Bible, but it dominates Ecclesiastes’ opening chapters.

I enlarged my works: I built houses for myself, I planted vineyards for myself; I made gardens and parks for myself and I planted in them all kinds of fruit trees; I made ponds of water for myself from which to irrigate a forest of growing trees. I bought male and female slaves and I had homegrown slaves. Also I possessed flocks and herds larger than all who preceded me in Jerusalem. Also, I collected for myself silver and gold and the treasure of kings and provinces. (Ecclesiastes 2:4-8)

Nowhere else in the Bible is the first-person singular used so relentlessly and repetitively. In the original Hebrew the effect is doubled because of the chiming of the verbal suffix and the pronoun: Baniti li, asiti li, kaniti li, ‘I built for myself, I made for myself, I bought for myself,’ The source of Ecclesiastes’ unhappiness is obvious and was spelled out many centuries later by the great sage Hillel: ‘If I am not for myself, who will be? But if I am only for myself, what am I?’

Happiness in the Bible is not something we find in self-gratification.

Hence the significance of the word simchah. I translated it earlier as ‘joy’, but really it has no precise translation into English, since all our emotion words refer to states of mind we can experience alone. Simchah is something we cannot experience alone. Simchah is joy shared.

     — Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks zt”l, in The Great Partnership: God, Science and the Search for Meaning

[finelythreadedsky]

fun fact: angels and demons cannot understand aramaic

the beginning of the passover seder, (ha lachma anya) is in aramaic because it includes the invitation “let all who are hungry come and eat, let all who are needy come and celebrate,” and we don’t want the demons to hear that and take us up on the offer, but they don’t understand it if we say it in aramaic

(machzor vitry, simchah ben samuel of vitry, 11th cent., drawing on the talmud at sotah 33a:6 and shabbat 12b2)

[svejarph]

hiya! :] i'm trying to name a victoria pedretti fc, i'm thinking of using the last name nichols - it's just the first name i can't think of. do you have any suggestions? ty ! <3

Hello! There are so many possible names that she could have. I’m going to focus on her ancestry so that I can narrow it down a little bit. She is Italian, Austrian, German, English, and Ashkenazi Jewish.

Ashkenazi Jewish - may have Hebrew names for religious purposes, but often have anglicized versions of their name legally/what they go by as a nickname - may be named after their deceased relatives (maybe closest related if orthodox) or events around their birth

Avigail/Abigail

Chava/Eve

Freida

Leah

Libby (short for Liebe/Lieba)

Mira (short for Miriam?)

Miriyasha

Rachel

Simka (not out of the question to be short for Simchah, but very rare)

Austrian

Andrea

Carlotta

Emma

Elisa

Jasmin

Liliana

Julia

Sasha

English

April

Autumn

Evelyn

Harper

Zoe

German - please note their country’s rules when it comes to baby-naming if you want them to be from/born in this country! - may have multiple “first names”

Cassandra

Emilia

Ella

Heidi

Lotty (short for Charlotte)

Marlene

Minna (short for Wilhelmina/Hermina)

Italian

Anita

Aurora

Beatrice

Claudia

Elisa

Francesca

Noemi

Patriza

Sofia

Valeria

[shalomelohim]

Leja Dodi, Lecha Dodi, Kabalat Shabbat, לָכה דֹוִדי de Leonardo Gonçalves 

Une belle chanson toute en douceur.

Le Lekha Dodi (Viens Mon Bien-Aimé) composé à Safed au XVIe siècle par le Rabbi Chlomo Halévy Elkabets est chanté à la tombée de la nuit le vendredi soir pour accueillir la « fiancée Shabbat ».

♥ ♥ ♥

[Refrain] Viens, mon bien-aimé, au-devant de la fiancée, Come, my beloved, before the bride, Lechah dodi likrat kallah לכה דודי לקראת כלה Allons accueillir le Shabbat. Let's go welcome Shabbat. Pnei Shabbat nekabelah פני שבת נקבלה (x4)

« Observe » et « souviens-toi » : c’est en une seule parole, "Observe" and "remember" : it’s in one word, Shamor ve-zachor be-dibur echad שמור וזכור בדבור אחד Que le Seul et l’Unique Dieu nous fit entendre May the One and Only God make us hear Hishmianu E-l hameyuchad השמיענו אל המיחד L’Éternel est Un et son Nom est Un, The Lord is One and His Name is One, Adonai echad ushemo echad יי אחד ושמו אחד A Lui Honneur, Gloire, Louange ! To him honor, glory, praise ! Le-Sheim ul-tiferet ve-li-t'hilah לשם ולתפארת ולתהלה

[Refrain]

A la rencontre de Shabbath empressons-nous, To meet Shabbat let us hurry, Likrat Shabbat lechu ve-nelechah לקראת שבת לכו ונלכה Car il est la source de toute bénédiction. For he is the source of all blessing. Ki hi mekor haberachah כי היא מקור הברכה Consacré dès les temps les plus lointains, Consecrated from the earliest times, Merosh mikedem nesuchah מראש מקדם נסוכה Clôt la Création, mais pensé dès l'origine [par le Créateur]. Closes the Creation, but thought from the beginning [by the Creator]. Sof ma'aseh be-machashavah techilah סוף מעשה במחשבה תחלה

[Refrain]

À droite et à gauche débordera ta joie, Right and left will overflow your joy, Yamin u-smol tifrotzi ימין ושמאל תפרוצי Et le Seigneur tu révéreras. And the Lord will revere you. Ve-et Ado-nai ta'aritzi ואת יי תעריצי Grâce à celui qu'on nomme le fils de Péretz Thanks to the one called the son of Péretz Al yad ish ben Partzi על יד איש בן פרצי Nous nous réjouirons et nous exulterons. We will rejoice and exult. Ve-nismechah ve-nagilah ונשמחה ונגילה

[Refrain]

Sois la bienvenue, toi, couronne de ton Époux, Welcome, you, crown of your Bridegroom, Boi ve-shalom ateret ba'alah בואי בשלום עטרת בעלה Viens, dans la joie et l’allégresse, Come, in joy and gladness, Gam be-simchah u-ve-tzahalah גם בשמחה ובצהלה Au milieu des fidèles du peuple élu, In the midst of the faithful of the chosen people, Toch emunei am segulah תוך אמוני עם סגלה Viens, ma fiancée, viens, ma fiancée ! Come, my bride, come, my fiancée ! Bo-i chalah boi chalah בואי כלה בואי כלה

[Refrain]

========

(autres couplets de la chanson non repris ici)

Sanctuaire du Roi, Ville royale, Sanctuary of the King, Royal City, Mikdash melech ir meluchah מקדש מלך עיר מלוכה Debout, relève-toi de tes ruines ! Stand up, rise from your ruins ! Kumi tze'i mitoch ha-hafeichah קומי צאי מתוך ההפכה Trop longtemps tu es demeurée dans la vallée des pleurs. For too long you have remained in the valley of tears. Rav lach shevet be-eimek habacha רב לך שבת בעמק הבכא Mais voici que Lui éprouve pour toi de la compassion. But now He feels compassion for you. Ve-hu yachamol alayich chemlah והוא יחמול עליך חמלה

Secoue la poussière, relève-toi ! Shake the dust, get up ! Hitna'ari me-afar kumi התנערי מעפר קומי Revêts, Mon peuple, les vêtements de ta splendeur ! Cloth, My people, the garments of your splendour ! Liv-shi bigdei tifartech ami לבשי בגדי תפארתך עמי Par le fils de Isaïe, de Bethléhem, By the son of Isaiah, of Bethlehem, Al yad ben Yishai beit ha-lachmi על יד בן ישי בית הלחמי Mon âme voit s'approcher d'elle le salut. My soul sees salvation approaching her. Korvah el nafshi ge-alah קרבה אל נפשי גאלה

Réveille-toi, réveille-toi ! Wake up, wake up ! Hitoreri hitoreri התעוררי התעוררי Car ta lumière est venue ! Lève-toi, resplendis ! For your light has come ! Arise, resplendi ! Ki va oreich kumi ori כי בא אורך קומי אורי Dresse-toi, dresse-toi, entonne un cantique ! Stand, stand, sing a hymn ! Uri uri shir dabeiri עורי עורי שיר דברי Car la gloire de l’Éternel resplendit sur toi. For the glory of the Lord shines upon you. Kevod Ado-nai alayich niglah כבוד יי עליך נגלה

Ne sois plus humiliée, et ne sois plus méprisée ! Be no more humiliated, and no longer be despised ! Lo teevoshi ve-lo tikalmi לא תבושי ולא תכלמי Pourquoi soupirer, pourquoi gémir ? Why sigh, why moan ? Mah tishtochachi u-mah tehemi מה תשתוחחי ומה תהמי Chez toi les pauvres de mon peuple trouveront refuge, In you the poor of my people will find refuge, Bach yechesu aniyei ami בך יחסו עניי עמי Et voici que la Ville sur ses ruines sera rebâtie. And now the city on its ruins will be rebuilt. Ve-nivnetah ir al tilah ונבנתה עיר על תלה

Et tes ennemis à leur tour seront foulés aux pieds, And your enemies in their turn will be trampled underfoot, Ve-hayu limshisah shosayich והיו למשסה שאסיך Tous tes oppresseurs seront chassés. All your oppressors will be cast out. Ve-rachaku kol mevalayich ורחקו כל מבלעיך Ton Dieu Se réjouira enfin de toi, Your God will finally rejoice in you, Yasis alayich E-lohayich ישיש עליך אלהיך Comme le fiancé de sa fiancée. Like his fiancé's fiancée. Kimsos chatan al kalah כמשוש חתן על כלה