Yelling Yehey Shmey releases pent up energy

Kahal Am Mirahtzim here in Stanwick Hills, Nebraska is an amazing place.  About half the men show up in black hats, and the other half in knitted kippot (technically called “Kippot Serugot”, but in Telz we would call them “tipot seruchot”).  We all get along and daven together with very few problems.

But sometimes there’s an event that upsets the fragile balance.  This week it was a bat mitzvah in our shul — a bat mitzvah of a kid from one of those families that are not really frum (yet), but apparently they must have pissed off their conservative temple, so they show up at our shul to hold their events.


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