Aliyah and the baal teshuva – one guy’s complaint
I got sent an ‘anonymous’ article via email.
I decided to put it up here, to get the discussion going about making aliya and the sort of mindset, emuna and genuine humility a person usually has to develop, to not hate living in the Holy Land.
Let’s be clear, much is being said in the following article that I disagree with, personally. But, I believe in a full and open discussion, and I think it’s useful to have opposing views expressed, and challenged – on both sides of the argument.
So, on that basis, here is the ‘guest post’ written by someone who is apparently living in Israel, still, but has now gone very sour on the idea of making aliya. I will write my response later, in a seperate post, but feel free to also participate in the debate about aliya – BUT, try to avoid making personal attacks. The process of birur is difficult, and needs to be conducted with due respect for people who have different opinions, even if they are totally wrong.
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Aliyah is a particularly difficult immigrant experience, especially for the baal teshuvah
Immigration to any country is difficult, but immigration to Israel is even more difficult because it’s a very strange and troubled place. How so? For starters, it’s a new country that was formed via war and continues to endure military conflict even if much of that is its own doing. It sits in a region that is hostile to it (for a variety of reasons) and to which it is hostile (for a variety of reasons) and is very different culturally from the kind of place it tries to be.
It tries to be some kind of cholent of Western European/Eastern European/North American culture and politics cooked along with Jewish potatoes. But mostly it fails. Meanwhile, the countries around it are Islamic Arab. It’s quite a contrast. Israel would be a contrast to the countries of any region. And that contrast creates problems galore and drains the limited energy and resources of the country and the people who live in it.
France is a Western European country that sits in Western Europe. Japan is an East Asian country that sits in East Asia. Uruguay is a Latin/Hispanic country that is positioned in South America around other Latin/Hispanic countries. If you go from Japan to South Korea you don’t feel like you are entering a new world. You see those Asian characters on the store signs. You see people who are indistinguishable visually from those of the country you just left. It’s the same with France and Belgium and Bolivia and Peru. The sign says Bienvenidos a Peru (Welcome to Peru) but you don’t feel as though you have just passed through a time and space portal when you leave Spanish speaking Bolivia and enter Spanish speaking Peru. That’s because all of these countries emerged naturally.
Not so Israel. Israel would be an anomaly in any region, but in the Mideast it produces head scratching bewilderment: “Where did these guys come from?” Not that you are even permitted to travel from several of the neighboring countries such as Lebanon and Syria. But if you go from the ones where relatively recently permission was granted — Egypt and Jordan — it IS like passing through a time and space portal. Even the language spoken in Jewish Israel is different from every country around it, and it’s a revived language that was largely dormant as a language spoken by the masses for millennia.
That leaves you in a tiny little space, half of which also happens to be off limits. You drive along in Israel and see signs informing you that it’s dangerous and illegal to turn right and drive down the road before you because it’s Area A or B as defined by the Oslo Accords. That is to say, it’s an Arab village as governed mostly by the Palestinian Authority. You can’t go there. And then there’s Gaza, 20 miles from my house, that is run by Hamas and presently is a pile of rubble. How close is Gaza? I hear the Israeli bombs exploding every day. I hear them from my bedroom.
You even tremble passing through the Arab villages that are within the legal limits of the state of Israel proper, as happens in Jerusalem or the north of the country. So much of this tiny little country is off limits that you can’t help but wonder, “What do they mean that this is home?” Which three square centimeters of this place is home?
You start to feel like a monkey on the monkey island at the Biblical zoo. This makes for a very weird and draining life experience. As a result of its own struggles for survival, there is little in the way of support for the immigrant. In Israel, the immigrant is on his own. Don’t let the con artists at Nefesh b’Nefesh fool you. They put on a big show to get you here, but they disappear after that. You are on your own.
And don’t plan on the Israelis coming to help you. I have lived here in two apartments over the span of a decade. In the first building, the Israelis never had us over, even though they saw our aliyah lift in the parking lot. I never stepped foot in any of their apartments. In the second building, we were hosted for Shabbos once by an American family.
We are not unfriendly people. We have hosted people for meals as well as yeshiva and seminary students for sleepovers, even though we don’t have much room. (They sleep on the floor on air mattresses. It is much harder to be hospitable in Israel.) We invite, but are not invited.
You want a ride? “Sorry, we don’t have room in our car.”
Israelis also don’t help with Hebrew. I requested many times for help with translation of business documents. The best I ever got was a quick glance with five or six words of description. “It’s from the iryah. Something about arnonah.” That’s not very helpful when they don’t even translate the key words. Iryah is city. Arnonah is local tax.
And that’s the Israelis who speak any English. Most do not. One of the aliyah evangelists who lied to me as they all do assured me that nearly all Israelis speak English. It’s hard to fathom the basis for this statement. Where he lived, maybe 5% speak any English, and he didn’t speak any Hebrew as he only retired here as do many of the most ardent evangelists, hypocrites that they are! Maybe he satisfied himself with the handful of Anglos in his shul and irresponsibly projected that outward all for the cause of aliyah evangelism. For some reason, and you can theorize, people cast off the burden of responsibility when pushing aliyah. All rules of good counsel are ignored. You don’t have to make sense, you don’t have to be accurate, not even about healthcare which is grossly inferior in Israel. Just get them to Israel. That’s the attitude. [Side note, I speak of this man in the past tense because he died as a result of not getting immediate medical care after suffering a stroke, as he lived one hour from a hospital.]
The line that the aliyah evangelists use and overuse is that Israel is home because on some theoretical level it’s “the homeland for Jews.” But what that really means is that 2,000 years ago, when the world was an entirely different place, it was home, and after Moshiach arrives, when the world will be an entirely different place, it will be home again. In other words, it’s not home now. It’s not even close. In some vague, abstract way it’s a kind of promised home. It’s the promised land. It’s a some day kind of thing. It’s not now. It’s like Moshiach. He’ll be here someday, but he is not here now. And Israel is not home now.
In addition to the national divide in the region, there’s the cultural divide within the Jewish portion of Israel. I have never been in a society where there is more cultural discord. Every day, every Israeli newspaper rants derisively about Haredim. In America, I had a boss who used to say to me, “Don’t you have to leave now for the Sabbath?” And Israel? Let’s not even get into it. There is such hostility. Strangers have walked up to me on the street and confronted me about Haredim and the army. Fortunately, since my Hebrew is so weak, I can’t really respond, which saves me from another enervating battle. In America, there is overlap between Haredim and the Modern Orthodox. In Israel, there is a canyon. Even my Dati Leumi coworkers have attacked me about all kinds of subjects. “I blame your rabbis!” shouted one who doesn’t see the Roshei Yeshiva or Admorim in Eretz Yisrael as having any credibility or value. To him, they practice a different religion.
The reverse is also true, the religious people complain constantly about the non-religious. The animosity is palpable. It’s much worse than Democrats and Republicans in America. Here the different groups are like different societies, within this tiny little country half of which is off-limits. They say that Israel is roughly the size of New Jersey. Half of that is uninhabitable desert. Half of the remainder is Arab. The frum part is like a small county in Vermont, if even that big. That’s your whole world. If you are American or Canadian, you just went from millions of square miles to a half-hour drive.
They say that there are 10 Haredi cities. I have been to nearly all of them. Most of them are really Haredi neighborhoods within secular cities. If there were no traffic, you could drive from one side to the other of the Haredi parts in 10 minutes. I think even the frum parts of Jerusalem could be traversed in 30 minutes if there were no traffic, Bene Brak even less.
For the baal teshuvah, aliyah is even more difficult. Why is that? It’s because even the tiny frum part of Israel is alien to the baal teshuvah, and that’s because Orthodox Judaism is alien. The BT is already an immigrant.
Yeshiva guys can’t understand this because they tend to see themselves as the owners of the truth. They think, “Who would want to be anything but the truth, to be anything but us?” It’s similar to the propaganda line about Israel, that it’s home. The yeshiva guy figures that you are in bliss now because you are in the yeshiva world. Shouldn’t that feel like home?
It’s for home him because it’s how he grew up. It’s not home for the BT. Some of the mitzvos feel right, some don’t. Some of the Torah feels familiar or true. Some does not. Most of it is not understandable in part because of the cryptic way it’s written and because of the Hebrew that the schools generally fail to teach but for lots of other reasons as well.
As for frum society, for most baalei teshuvah, or certainly many, it’s Mars. This applies to clothing, the food, the attitudes, the clichés, and certainly the language. I know a frum man who grew up in frum neighborhoods in Michigan and went to a Great Lake in his childhood only one time! I know a frum woman who lives in Monsey who has not been to the ocean in two decades. I’m not talking about swimming. She hasn’t even seen it. To the BT, or to most any human, that is unusual.
Being a BT is a life long struggle, not only because of all that the BT gives up but because the frum world is so alien and is largely unwelcoming. Becoming a baal teshuvah and staying in the game is an enormous challenge. Many BTs will tell you that after many decades, the challenge doesn’t stop. It’s really hard.
So are you going to add to the challenge of being a baal teshuvah the challenge of being an immigrant in one of the most stressful and unwelcoming countries on earth? You want to task him with being a double immigrant?
Do you want to risk your own Olam Haba, because if you overload the BT and drive him away from Judaism you have just harmed yourself in a severe way. This applies also to those who push BTs into the Kollel life. You have so more to lose than gain. You want to be reckless? That’s your choice, but I don’t recommend it. I have seen the carnage. Come with me sometime, I’ll show you all the ruined lives that resulted from mishandling baalei teshuvah. I can show you ruined marriages of BTs who moved to Israel. I can’t show the punishment in gehennom that is happening right now to reckless handlers of BTs. That’s hidden from us, but we can imagine and should imagine.
Tehillim 34 tells us ס֣וּר מֵ֖רָע וַֽעֲשֵׂה־ט֑וֹב, Turn from evil and do good. This means that first you turn from sin and then perform the positive mitzvah. We see this in the rabbinic prohibition of not blowing shofar on Shabbos Rosh Hashanah. It is more important to not violate the Sabbath than it is to perform the mitzvah of blowing shofar.
Isn’t that odd? Blowing shofar is so symbolic, so central, and the blowing is not a melacha as we see from the blowing on weekday Rosh Hashanah. However, there’s a slim chance that you might carry the shofar into a public domain to ask a rabbi a question about it. For fear of that slim chance, the rabbis decreed that none of us should ever blow shofar on RH Shabbos. ס֣וּר מֵ֖רָע וַֽעֲשֵׂה־ט֑וֹב
We see this principle also in the halachic obligation to spend all one’s money to not violate a lav, but only 20% of one’s money to perform an aseh.
The baal teshuvah’s first task is to observe the Sabbath, which means not doing malacha. He or she has to observe the rules of family purity as well as sexual restraint. He or she must change over his or her entire diet and keep kosher. This is where we start. And none of that is easy.
So you think that everyone must live in Israel. You are wrong. I need only refer to the psak halacha of the posek HaDor Rav Moshe Feinstein and to the views and advice of the great Torah leaders Rav Joseph Soloveitchik and the Lubavitcher Rebbe, as well as many others, to refute your cherished little notions. But it doesn’t matter. The BT is trying to stay frum, and that’s really hard. We start with the lavim, the don’t dos. By pushing people to move to Israel, you put all of that at risk. In doing so, you subject yourself to a judgement that is as heavy as a dozen Mack trucks loaded with bricks on your head.
So you love living in Israel. Good for you. Now guard your tongue. Just because you enjoy eating cauliflower doesn’t mean that we all must eat it. Just because you benefited from knee surgery doesn’t mean that we all need knee surgery. It doesn’t mean that now you are a surgeon. Don’t pretend to be the surgeon for people you have never even examined. Don’t pretend to be a surgeon at all. Just do your thing and leave it at that. Don’t mess with other people’s lives if only because when you do, you mess with your own.
Remember the story of Korach. He was a prophet, a great man in a time of great men:
Returning to Korach himself, the following story told by Rabbi Yissachar Frand helps give us an idea of the ambiguity of the nature of Korach. The Satmar Rebbe once said that he recalled hearing his great-grandfather, the Yismach Moshe tell his own son, the Yitav Lev (the Satmar Rebbe’s grandfather) that the Yismach Moshe came to this world on three different occasions through the concept of Gilgul Neshamos (reincarnation). The first time he was in this world, he claimed, was in the period of the Jewish people in the desert at the time of the incident of the Rebellion of Korach and his congregation. Upon hearing this, the Yitav Lev asked his father to tell him about the events of that time. The Yismach Moshe told his son that all the Heads of the Sanhedrin sided with Korach and the masses of the people sided with Moshe. The Yitav Lev then pressed his father and asked him “Who did you side with?” He responded “I was neutral”. The Yitav Lev asked him, how he could not support Moshe, when his greatness was so clear. The Yitav Lev told his son, “I can see that you have no inkling of what a great person Korach was. If you would have been there and you would have seen who Korach was you would not be so shocked by my neutrality.” (Article on Aish.com)Yet, Korach became wicked. So said Moshe.
וַיָּ֣קׇם מֹשֶׁ֔ה וַיֵּ֖לֶךְ אֶל־דָּתָ֣ן וַאֲבִירָ֑ם וַיֵּלְכ֥וּ אַחֲרָ֖יו זִקְנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃
וַיְדַבֵּ֨ר אֶל־הָעֵדָ֜ה לֵאמֹ֗ר ס֣וּרוּ נָ֡א מֵעַל֩ אׇהֳלֵ֨י הָאֲנָשִׁ֤ים הָֽרְשָׁעִים֙ הָאֵ֔לֶּה וְאַֽל־תִּגְּע֖וּ בְּכׇל־אֲשֶׁ֣ר לָהֶ֑ם פֶּן־תִּסָּפ֖וּ בְּכׇל־חַטֹּאתָֽם׃
Moses rose and went to Dathan and Abiram, the elders of Israel following him. He addressed the community, saying, “Move away from the tents of these wicked men and touch nothing that belongs to them, lest you be wiped out for all their sins.” (Numbers 16: 25-26)
Korach and his followers were swallowed by the earth.And the lesson, don’t be so sure of yourself, particularly when you assert yourself into the public sphere, into the lives of others into the lives of others as Korach did. Be careful with baalei teshuvah. As Rabbi Avigdor Miller explains, the Sefer Chasidim cautions us:
“That’s why you have to be careful, the Sefer Chasidim says, when you are dealing with a son of irreligious parents. Be careful with him because sometimes if you are too strict with him, he might go back to the ways of his parents. Whereas the son of frum people you can be more strict with him because his model is his home. A frum home.” (Tape #698, “Peril of Habit, 3 Weeks,” 1:25:23.And you BT who is marching along just fine and see yourself in Israel. Maybe you can endure the hardships, the poverty, and lack of derech eretz, the violence. Maybe you can even handle the army experience. But can your spouse? Can your children? Usually, they become much more immersed in it than you, as you work online with your American clientele or sit in the $900,000 duplex apartment that was paid for with money from chutz. Your children must go to school in trailers or dank buildings and deal with the shouting of their aggressive Israeli teachers or bullying of the rough and tumble Israeli classmates. Most Anglo olim have no idea what their children endure in Israel. The ignorance is shameful really. The parents are just so thrilled to be in Israel, largely because it’s a fulfillment of their childhood conditioning, but their children pay the price.
Rabbi Eliyahu Ha-Cohen of Turkey, the author of Shevet Musar and Meil Tzedaka, held that living in the land of Israel is a mitzvah even in our times, but that one is not obligated if he cannot earn a “plentiful parnassah,” for poverty can drive a person away from G-d. Even if he is sure that he can endure a life of deprivation, he should not assume that his children can withstand it. (Cited in Pischei Teshuvah, Chapter 75)
This applies to anybody who moves to Israel, particularly if his Hebrew is weak, his bank account thin, his family in chutz, and his sense of derech eretz of the non-Israeli variety. For baalei teshuvah, multiply by ten.
Hear my words.
That’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever read. So much built-up resentment and negativity. The author is missing any positive outlook, the realization that one has to merit to live in the Holy Land and if one doesn’t treasure every breath and step here just to be able to be a servant of Hashem in His Land joined with a huge disbelief that a person such as himself who must be undeserving is incredibly blessed by Hashem, then that person has got it all wrong.
We don’t automatically deserve to be in this currently imperfect place, it’s the biggest privilege. Every 4 amot travelled here is a huge mitzvah that is beyond compare. The secular Jew who has lived here all his life could be far surpassed in mitzvot than myself who tries so hard to do everything religiously that Hashem wants. I could never judge. It is the job of every Jew to look at everything with the knowledge that Hashem is behind everything and we can’t use our logic to understand His ways. We just have to trust them. If Hashem considers this place holy and special, then we do too. It doesn’t have to muster up our approval as the easiest place to live. A difficult moment here is more worthy than a lifetime elsewhere. An easy life is not done right! One can still be grateful and overjoyed with a difficult life! Why give excuses to everything? Where is the gratitude? Hashem only does good for every Jew, doesn’t matter if they are BT. One is not entitled to an easy life and Hashem has chosen your difficulties for you and with you (your neshama approved every one as it understands they only help.)
How can we reach someone with a view like that? I feel we can only daven for our broken world with our broken brothers and sisters and hope Hashem brings true understanding to every Jew immediately. We have to increase our love for every Jew and see the good.
The observations in that post are all legitimate and I don’t think that the author is just being ‘negative.’ I know many people who have had a very hard time living in Israel. When you make life decisions you have to look at the hard facts. You can’t stay in miserable situations and just look for the positive.
I really feel for him. Aliyah is never easy, and it seems for Anglo’s it is the hardest. In my humble opinion he is right in certain things. People are often times given false expectations of what Aliyah and subsequent life in Israel is. Then when they get here it is a major culture shock that unfortunately many want to and do run back to Chul. If someone were to ask me today what to expect from Aliyah, I would tell them to have zero expectations, but to just know that Eretz Yisrael is acquired with a lot suffering and Emunah.
When I was working in Hi-Tech in several different companies, many times I was asked by Israelis (usually the leftist woke ones) why we came to Israel. It wasn’t asked in a curious sort of way, it was asked in a rather “if your stupid enough to leave your great life in America, don’t expect us to help you”, and then I could only give the typical answer which sounded so dumb to them that we came to live a Jewish life in Eretz Yisrael.
When one makes Aliyah, they are basically on their own when they get here. Navigating can be hard. I was told on different occasions that in previous generations, English was truly emphasized in Israel, many people learned it well in school, and I have often found some older Israelis who speak it well. It seems today in the religious communities (both Dati Leumi and Charedi) it is way under emphasized and many young teachers can’t speak English at all.
Regarding the comments about R’ Moshe and the Lubavitcher Rebbe that it isn’t a Torah Mitzvah to live in Israel, I have heard this many times before and for every Psak in Chul that one must not live in Israel, there are many, many more in Israel who hold differently. I am not trying to open this as a Halachic debate, just that it was obvious that R Moshe and the Lubavitcher Rebbe poskened that way, otherwise neither one of them could have stayed in America.
Bottom line, I truly hope that this person and all others who wish to come on Aliyah, or who have done so, find peace and the ability to stick it out.
Thank you to the author for sharing such a raw and honest perspective. It’s crucial to understand why even religious Jews struggle in Eretz Yisrael and may choose to leave. Voicing these frustrations is therapeutic, and I encourage the author to pair this with hitbodedut, where we pour our hearts out to HaShem and find clarity amidst the pain.
The author quotes Rabbi Eliyahu HaCohen Perachia of Izmir, Turkey, who, by HaShem’s design, is an ancestor of my wife’s mother’s family. His descendants have lived in Eretz Yisrael for over 120 years, including the revered Chalban himself. Life under Ottoman rule was far from easy, with poverty, instability, and hardship being daily realities, yet they persevered. Today, their legacy thrives in the Holy Land, a testament to the long-term rewards of staying committed to this sacred soil.
As a convert and immigrant to Israel, I deeply empathize with the author’s struggles. The bureaucratic nightmares, cultural disconnect, and isolation are real. I’ve been there: working three jobs, living in a dilapidated basement, scammed by landlords, and saving less than only double digits shekels a month in my first years here. Heck, even El Al lost my luggage, leaving me with just the clothes on my back when I landed! Yet, HaShem sent the right people and opportunities at the perfect moments to keep me going. The author’s pain is valid, but it’s not the whole story. Gratitude begets gratitude, so does complaints. Now I am not saying you shouldn’t voice your frustrations but we can always find reasons to be thankful for and reasons to complain, so think which is better for your neshema. My general attitude is that, “I am the most blessed person alive relative to what I deserve.” This mantra keeps me positive most of the time.
On the topic of Shabbat hospitality, I’ve heard similar complaints from North American olim who miss this tradition of their former communities. In Israel, Shabbat is often reserved for extended family, which olim, far from their relatives, keenly feel. My advice? Build your own community. Where I live in Kiryat HaSharon, many olim invite each other for Shabbat meals, creating new “families” of shared experiences. This small step can transform feelings of loneliness into connection.
This brings me to the heart of the issue: the author is trying too hard to “fit in” without fully embracing the unique vibe of Eretz Yisrael. Living in an area with few English speakers while struggling with Hebrew is a recipe for isolation. My practical advice is to relocate to a community with more English speakers. (Personally, I’ve found Anglos to lack the authenticity and directness of Israelis, so prefer English-speaking Israelis over the former. This could be because I’ve only really known how to be a Jew in Israel and Anglo culture just reminds me of Galut-mentality and Western-hypocrisy, but you do you — there is no right or wrong answer.). The upside for you is that these areas offer robust support networks where olim share tips, resources, and encouragement. Connecting with others who’ve navigated the same challenges can make all the difference.
As a baal teshuva and immigrant, I understand the longing to “belong.” It took me years to find my place in Israeli society. On some issues, I’m stricter than Haredim; on others, more relaxed than Dati Leumi or even Hilonim. The breakthrough came when I stopped trying to fit into someone else’s mold and focused on my purpose here. For me, that purpose crystallized after finding the work of Shuvu Banim via the Rav’s teachings. While others talk about geula, Shuvu Banim lives it through every Tikkun HaKlali, pidyon nefesh, hitbodedut session, mitzvah, or moment of bizayon we endure for HaShem. Each act is a brick in the redemption process. Find your “why,” and the struggles take on profound meaning.
Eretz Yisrael isn’t about an easier life; it’s about a more meaningful one. Here, our challenges matter infinitely more than they ever could in galut. Berachot 5a teaches, “Three things are acquired only through hardship: Olam Haba, Torah, and Eretz Yisrael.” The struggle is part of the refinement process. Just as we infinitely value what we’ve fought for in human terms more so than things we receive freely, so too does HaShem craft our souls through the trials of this land.
The author argues that Israel’s cultural uniqueness makes it an anomaly, but this is a feature, not a flaw. HaShem chose us to be distinct from the nations, as it says, “You shall be holy to Me, for I, HaShem, am holy, and I have set you apart from the peoples” (Vayikra 20:26). The article’s comparisons to culturally similar neighbors like France and Belgium or Bolivia and Peru, miss the mark. Consider Brazil, the only Portuguese-speaking nation in South America, surrounded by Spanish-speaking countries. Or the United States, an English-speaking melting pot next to Spanish-speaking Mexico. Or India and Pakistan, divided by religion and language despite shared history. Difference isn’t a defect; it’s a divine design.
Regarding the State of Israel, I agree it’s not the final model but a work in progress. I’d go further: the state is the ultimate psy-op, creating the illusion of a Jewish homeland while being manipulated by global powers through their Erev Rav puppets. If we lived under overt foreign rule, we’d recognize what’s missing and perhaps revolt. This illusion breeds passivity, which is spiritually dangerous. Yet, this too is part of the tikkun process—navigating the tension between the ideal and the real.
The societal divide the author describes is real but overblown by media narratives. The tension between Hilonim and Torah-observant Jews isn’t new; it’s Jewish history replayed. Read the Chanukah story: one side embraced Torah, the other Hellenism. Hilonim, shaped by centuries of secular drift, often live as proto-goyim, while Torah Jews hold fast to eternal values. We must never hate or mistreat those who don’t yet see the Torah’s light, but we can’t compromise our principles to earn their approval. As the Rambam writes in Hilchot De’ot 6:3, we correct others with love, not capitulation.
To the author: your struggles are real, but they’re also your path to greatness. Eretz Yisrael is the ultimate crucible for tikkun hamiddot, refining our character like nowhere else. Don’t give up. Move to a supportive community, find your purpose, and lean into hitbodedut to connect with HaShem. As Tehillim 30:6 says, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” Your morning is coming, stay the course.
Wow. Jude. Very powerful and all-encompassing response. Thank you.
Super Wow!!!
Poor chap doesn’t realize Hashem loves him.
Wow Jude! Spot on!!! LOVED your genuine response!!! You are a beautiful writer as well! I also appreciate the raw feelings expressed by the writer of the email…I hope he gets an enlightened healing very soon…I feel his suffering …