There is a free online course system that helps people learn to a solid basic level of a vast number of languages, including Hebrew. It is called Duolingo. 

However, they have been working on a course on Yiddish for a few years now, but need additional support to complete it. Does anyone of you speak Yiddish or know anyone who might be interested in helping them? The "call for applications" can be found here, underneath the status info: https://incubator.duolingo.com/courses/yi/en/status

Genesis 14:  And Malchizedek the king of Salem brought out bread and wine, and he was a priest to the Most High God.

What is his background?  Who was he?  What were his parents names?

Thank you.

I work for a 4 store chain of employee owned grocery stores in Northern California that feature small, shelf stable, kosher foods sections. In reviewing these sets in our stores I feel like they could use a face lift but I don't feel like I am knowledgeable enough about Kosher foods to do it as well as it could be done. Currently we largely carry Shabbat and Hanukkah (when seasonally appropriate) candles, a few different types of Matzo crackers, tahini, and some Manischewitz products like pasta, chicken broth, potato starch, and gefilte fish.

Basically I'm asking what a Jew might find nice to find in a small kosher set in a suburban grocery store or direction towards any type of kosher foodie internet forums that might exist out there. So far I haven't been able to find the later searching through google.



My apologies in advanced if this isn't the best forum to be asking a question like this in.


Thanks!

13Do not withhold discipline from a child; when you strike him with a rod, he will not die.
14You shall strike him with a rod, and you will save his soul from the grave.

Does this verse mean that we should hit a child with a rod (stick) as a means of discipline?

Thanks.

This video is of my fiance, Scott Schindelar, on his second trip with Israel 2.0.

He has never been religious but a jew by birth. After visiting Israel for the second time, he has gained a new found spirituality that includes celebrating Hannukah and the weekly Shabbat. Please like, comment, and share the video :

I love him, and I am SO proud of him.


https://youtu.be/1cF0fl0VBW0

I’m trying to research some fun, unique Bar Mitzvah gifts to get in this day and age.

https://oneshotfinance.com/25-cool-and-memorable-ideas-for-bar-mitzvah-gifts/

This site has some fun ideas, I was wondering what you guys thought? And if you have any other resources/ideas on what to get? Do you think getting a gift is even worth it, or should I just stick to giving cash?

Thanks!

How does God communicate with angels?

Thanks.

So what religion do you consider to be closest to Judaism? why i ask ? according to a research i read few years ago the more religious jews say Islam,the secular nonreligious jews say christianity(because of european culture where they live in currently).This was a poll done in the USA

here is a similar question in Jerusalem streets? i would say same results

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BIjTerIxLOE

so your thoughts ? :

                                           “Gib’em the Ball!”

Jewish Quarterback – it sounds like an oxymoron - but that was the topic that Shabbos morning of the rabbi’s Torah commentary.  Actually, I should qualify that.  It wasn’t so much a part of the commentary, but more a humorous, “warm-up act” (story) that served as a prelude to his actual Dvar Torah.

As I recall, the rabbi began by citing a Jewish quarterback from years past.  His name was Sid Luckman.  Luckman was a New Yorker who played for Columbia University in the mid-to-late 1930s.  He is considered, by many, to be the first of the great T-formation quarterbacks.  After a stellar career with the Columbia University Lions, he was drafted by the Chicago Bears. 

It seems that Luckman had a zayde who ran a tailor shop in Manhattan’s Lower East Side.  Luckman wanted his grandfather to come and see him play football for Columbia.  But the elder Luckman was: “Shomer Shabbos”.  He wouldn’t even think of watching his grandson play football on Saturday, let alone ride in a car or take public transportation to Baker Bowl (where Columbia played their home games) to see him play a sport he knew nothing about.

Several years go by, Sid Luckman is now playing for a professional football team called the Chicago Bears (President Coolidge, years earlier, when informed that George Halas’s Chicago Bears were coming to Washington to play the Washington Redskins, is reported to have said, “That’s great, I love ‘animal acts’.”

In any event, as it turns out, the Bears are in town to play the vaunted New York (football) Giants.  Now, as the pro football teams play on Sunday, Luckman’s Zayde can finally come to Yankee Stadium to see his grandson play.  Luckman is thrilled.  He gets his grandfather a ticket right on the 50-yard line. 

In the first half, the celebrated Giants’ defense completely throttles quarterback Luckman and his Bears offense.  Luckman is literally “running for his life” as he’s chased around the backfield by the Giants’ defenders. 

When the Second Half begins, it’s more of the same.  The elder Luckman, sitting in his seat on the 50-yard line, doesn’t understand what’s going on.  Why are the members of the opposing team chasing his grandson all over the field?  He surmises that it must have something to do with the ball (football) that his aynikl is carrying. 

There reaches a point where Sid Luckman’s grandfather can’t take it anymore.  Just as his grandson is being thrown to the Yankee Stadium turf, once again, there’s a cry from the stands; it’s Sid Luckman’s grandfather.  He yells out, “Sidney, Sidney, gib’em the ball, I’ll buy you another one!”

Respect Becomes Loathing: My First Brush With Anti-Semitism

I respected the man. I looked up to him. He was one of our coaches.  He taught us how to hit and field. But then…something happened. It changed everything. 

During the mid-1950s, I played, as a teenager, in Mattapan’s Babe Ruth League baseball program (Boston’s Dorchester-Mattapan neighborhood, although a diverse community, contained, in the middle of the 20th century, one of the largest Jewish populations of any major U.S. city).  We played our baseball games at field called Almont Park; it was not far from business district called Mattapan Square.  

As I recall, when I played in the Babe Ruth League baseball program, you were judged more on how well you could hit, field, and throw than on your ethnicity or religion. Our coach that year was a senior at nearby Hyde Park High School.  But he had help. He was assisted by two of the fathers whose sons played on our team. One of the assistant coaches was a man we simply called, “Coach Ed.”  His son was one of our pitchers.
 
Toward the end of the season, our team, the Pirates, was playing a game against the Cardinals.  We needed a win that evening to stay in contention for the league title.  I remember that the game was going into the late innings. The lead had seesawed back and forth. Our opponents, the Cardinals, were now ahead. They were looking to add to their one-run lead. I remember their lead-off batter had started the inning off with a single. He would subsequently steal second base.
 
The next batter hit a sharp grounder to me at shortstop.  I proceeded to scoop up the ball.  I was just about to throw the ball across the diamond for the putout at first base. Yet, I remember that just before I was about to throw the baseball, I took a quick peek at the Cardinals’ runner on 2nd base.  I wanted to be sure he wasn’t taking off for 3rd base.
 
To my surprise, as I turned to look the runner back to 2nd, he took off for 3rd. Instantaneously, I moved forward a few steps to apply the tag. I remember the runner trying to squirm out of the way to avoid my tag (he might have gone out of the base line).  I managed to graze him on his uniform as he was ducking away.  I knew for certain (the runner also knew -- he affirmed the fact after the inning was over) that he had been tagged out.  Yet, the runner continued on to third as if he hadn’t been tagged. He was called “safe” by the adult umpire, “Coach Ed.”
 
For a few seconds, I just stood there at my position. I couldn’t believe the runner had been called “safe”.  Moments later, I calmly walked over to where “Coach Ed” was umpiring from behind the pitcher’s mound.  When I spoke with him, I was neither loud nor boisterous (I spoke in a calm, measured tone of voice).  I was not trying to show up “Coach Ed”.  I was just attempting to plead my case.  In fact, as I began to speak with Ed, I fully realized that an umpire, working the game alone, might have been “screened” by the runner and that he could have missed the fact that I had tagged the runner out.
 
In speaking with Ed, I just wanted to tell him that I had, indeed, tagged the runner. At that moment, I would have settled for any plausible explanation he might have given me.  But, what I got next, was totally unexpected and brutally shocking. The next words out of “Coach Ed’s” mouth were: “Get away from me you little kike!”  I was stunned. Taken aback.  His comment hit me like a “ton o’ bricks”.  It was if, at that moment, I had been verbally slapped across the face.  For a moment I looked at him, and then I turned and walked away.  I felt both hurt and sad.  Here was an adult whom I had respected.  But now…
 
Oh, I would see “Coach Ed” during our two remaining games in the season.  But I would not talk with him, nor would I accept his coaching.  I had thought of reporting the incident to the League president, but I decided against it (I’m not even sure if I ever told my parents). Frankly, I was concerned that if I made an issue of it, I’d be labeled as “a troublemaker.”  Tangentially, I have, over the years, changed my approach on that matter.
 
In the end, I had hoped that before the season ended “Coach Ed” would come over to me and apologize. I would have respected him for having admitted that he was wrong, and that he had made a mistake in speaking to me in that crude and demeaning manner, but he never did.


In hindsight, “Coach Ed” had most definitely “crossed the line”.  His comment made me feel "religiously singled out.”  Stereotyped.  In his moment of anger “the hidden” had come to the surface.  His latent feelings had now become “visible.”  I didn’t like what I saw.  My previous feeling of respect had, indeed, turned to loathing.