Then, as he describes in his book_,_ it all stopped working. As a member of the strict Skverer sect of Hasidism, and a resident of the sect’s home base in New Square, New York, he walked on the men’s side of the street, which is marked with a blue sign. He refrained from tearing off a square of toilet paper on Shabbat, since tearing qualifies as work, and he let his sidelocks grow long in accordance with the Levitical mandate not to round the corners of your head. He donned phylacteries during morning prayers and dedicated years of his life to studying tractates of the Talmud. As a man and a Hasid, he in fact observed far more religious laws than I am ever likely to. On Friday evenings, I light the ceremonial Sabbath candles and try, despite my anxieties, to rest, to think, and to ignore what I’m sure are the thousands of urgent text messages I am receiving at that very moment.įor much of his life, Shulem Deen, the author of the new memoir “All Who Go Do Not Return,” did these same things. Throughout my day, I declare at least three times that G-d is G-d, that He is One being, and that I love Him. When I eat breakfast, I say a blessing over the food, a different one depending on what I’m having that morning, whether it’s made from grain or milk, and I make sure to wash out a bowl used for yogurt with the appropriate dairy sponge. I did not grow up in a religious family, but now, upon waking each morning, I whisper a little prayer called the Modeh Ani, in which I thank G-d for returning my soul to me after sleep.

Shulem deen