Some relevant parallels between what happened bayamim haheim and what we are living through bazman hazeh
Gus is one of the fixtures of the neighborhood. Central casting couldn’t have chosen a better candidate to be the Barber of Lincolnwood. He’s a great schmoozer, name dropper (“Rabbi So-and-so was here yesterday”), makes house calls, and to top it all off, only charges $10, including beard trimming. When asked how he is doing, he always responds “Baruch Hashem,” despite being a heimishe Greek, born and bred near Athens. When our yeshivah advertised the annual dinner by hanging a banner that included my picture, Gus took particular pride in his handiwork on display, and encouraged my talmidim to behave in my shiur.
A few years ago, I came in before Chanukah, and after the usual chitchat, he gave the chair a spin, respectfully looked me in the eye, and proceeded to ask a question.
“So, Rrrrrrabbi, what is the real story behind Chanukah?”
Knowing full well that it is not wise to agitate a man with a scissors in one hand and an assortment of blades at arm’s length, I respectfully responded, “Do you really want to know the truth? It might not sound so flattering to you.”
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