Sometimes I hear a story during an interview and I can’t wait to share it; the weeks until an article will appear in print stretch out in front of me like a math period before recess. I know I should internalize the story let the story bake inside of me all that stuff they teach in writing classes. Maybe next Elul I’ll work on that type of self-control. (Actually I think I already committed to ka’as or maybe gaavah for next year — one of them anyhow. The year after then.)
It turns out that Benny Friedman who’s a great singer is also a pretty good storyteller. And he casually dropped a story a childhood memory one afternoon this summer that is too good not to share before the holiest days of the year.
He was discussing the latent kedushah within every Jew the fact that there is only One who can perceive what’s inside the heart of man — we know nothing.
He remembered walking with his father — noted Chabad shaliach educator author and lecturer Rabbi Manis Friedman — one Erev Yom Kippur back home inMinnesota. The Twin Cities have a sizable Russian population and an older Russian fellow noticed the senior Rabbi Friedman.
