D'vrei Torah & Spiritual Messages from Zahava's Facebook Page
Spiritual Messages from Zahava a"h
"May we all be better, more meaningful, and more considerate people – to ourselves, to our family, to our community, to our fellows Jews everywhere and to the whole world!"
This is a selection of the spiritual messages Zahava posted on her Facebook page. If you look, you will find many family pictures and messages, tremendous information about nutrition, Israel, political issues and much more.
(Note: Zahava's own writings are in black type; spiritual material she posted from other sources is in gray type and attributed whenever possible. This is a work in progress - more to come - We started with 2011 and we're working toward more current posts so that we can share her inspiring messages with you.)
2014
2013
January 13, 2013
Staying power…we all have it deep within ourselves. Perhaps we’re a society that’s hooked on hooking up because we've lost sight of what it means to be truly powerful. We've been tricked into thinking that the 'getting power' mindset will ultimately help us…well…get power. Instead, it leaves us powerless and lonely. “Staying power,” on the other hand, requires far more heart and guts, but it leaves you empowered and powerful…not to mention the bonus:…
Hooked on Hooking Up
by Chana Levitan
Aish.com
“I’m getting the itch,” a young woman named Brooke recently confessed to me. “I’ve been married for four years now and I’ve never been with one guy for this long. I mean, I love my husband and I’m dead-set against cheating but, well, I kind of miss the hook-up culture I grew up in. I always thrived on getting the guy I wanted – I thrived on the chase, the thrill of the chase. I know it sounds bad, but I miss that high.”
Behind that “high” is actually a potent cocktail of chemicals – phenylethylamine (that’s the chemical that makes us feel so good that we don’t need to sleep or eat), norepinephrine (this ups our heart rate and blood pressure), oxytocin (aptly nicknamed the “love hormone”) and dopamine (which helps control the brain’s reward and pleasure centers). When these chemicals are pumping through the body, it feels good, really good – until the post-hook-up crash, of course. But somehow we seem to develop selective memory, remembering only the high and not the low.
For Mike, who spent 20 years getting in (and quickly out) of relationships, it wasn’t so much about the physical rush of hooking up as the power high that came with it. “It’s all about the power of the chase,” Mike told me. “And when the chase is done, I’m done.” The irony is that although you feel powerful in the moment, you’re left feeling empty and powerless. Thus the need for the next chase…and the next.
As I explained to Brooke, hooking up is about what I call “Getting Power.” Marriage, on the other hand, requires “Staying Power.” That means – according to Thesaurus.com – vitality, tolerance, endurance, backbone, guts, and heart. Let me show you what it looks like in action:
GETTING POWER
An immediate and shallow high that’s followed by a void/emptiness.
Insecurity: “Uh-oh…I’d better not like him/her more than he/she likes me (or get more attached).
The tendency to quit when the going gets tough.
That momentary good feeling in your stomach.
Dependency: Needing someone to want you
Fear and/or inability to be seen or see the other
Keeping score: "I gave you more than you gave me."
STAYING POWER
A high that grows in duration and intensity as spouses gradually discover and reveal their hidden selves. (Vitality)
Security: “Although there are ups and downs in how connected I feel to my spouse, there’s always someone by my side.” (Tolerance)
The ability to hang in there and push through, which often leads to an even stronger connection. (Endurance)
That lingering good feeling in your heart. (Vitality)
Interdependence: a bond that’s built when two people express their individuality within the framework of the partnership of marriage. (Backbone)
Emotional intimacy (otherwise known as “into-me-see): the profoundness of being seen and known by another – and seeing and knowing someone else. (Guts)
The expansion of self that comes from caring about your spouse’s needs as your own. (Heart)
Let's get practical, here are some key pointers to help make the journey from 'getting power' to 'staying power':
*Write for clarity: Since 'getting power' sets off an immediate high that's followed by a void/emptiness, write down each time this happens and/or happened in the past. It's all too easy to forget the pain of this 'getting power' cycle. Keeping a written record serves as the ultimate reminder of the dead-end process.
*Look for role models: Look for people in good marriages (they do exist!) and set out to learn from them. You can do this through observing them and/or actually asking them for some guidance.
*Read and research: There are fantastic books and literature out there…about how to create stable and lasting marriages. Two books I highly recommend are Dr. Susan Heitler's, "The Power of Two" and Dr. Bill Doherty's, "Take Back Your Marriage".
*Unleash the power of giving: Flex your giving muscle and you will discover what inner power really is. If you want to experience real love, the secret is to give, as Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler, a famous mid-twentieth-century Judaic scholar taught, "We are accustomed to thinking that giving stems from love, because when we love someone we naturally give to them. But there seems to be another side to this argument." Rabbi Dessler goes on to explain that when we invest ourselves in someone or something, we come to love the person or thing we pour our love and attention into. Truth is, the ultimate sign that you have inner power is that you can be a giver.
Staying power…we all have it deep within ourselves. Perhaps we’re a society that’s hooked on hooking up because we’ve lost sight of what it means to be truly powerful. We've been tricked into thinking that the 'getting power' mindset will ultimately help us…well…get power. Instead, it leaves us powerless and lonely. “Staying power,” on the other hand, requires far more heart and guts, but it leaves you empowered and powerful…not to mention the bonus: a loving marriage – for life.
January 15, 2013
A Doubly Special Day....a birthday of that special girl (Nomi Goldwasser Landis) who was the first call me Imma (mommy) and an Anniversary of one of our Miami treasures Devora and Doniel Bensoussan! Feeling very blessed.
January 17, 2013
Greek mythology tells of Prometheus stealing fire from the gods and his eternal punishment. The Rabbis on the other hand recount God’s teaching Adam to kindle a spark. Fire is not stolen but offered, a Divine gift to enable us to be partners in creation, to create warmth, ignite passion, to help one another fill the world with light.___Rabbi Wolpe
January 22, 2013 near Miami Beach, FL
Today, Tuesday of Parshat Beshalach, is a special day. Tradition tells us that it is extremely prudent to utilize this day to pray for parnassah, livelihood, for the next 12 months.
It is a widespread and accepted custom to recite “Parshas Hamonn,” the portion in the Torah that describes the way Hashem provided monn (i.e., parnassah from heaven) for the Jews in the Midbar (desert). This can be found in Sefer Shemot, Perek 16: 4-36. It is customary to read the pesukim (verses)twice and the Targum once, and also to recite a short tefillah for sustenance beforehand.
January 25, 2013
“When I was a young man I admired clever people, now that I am older, I admire kind people.” Abraham Joshua Heschel
January 25, 2013
Manna from Heven
Rabbi Ari Enkin, United with Israel
This week’s Torah portion is “Beshalach” (Exodus 13:17- 17:16), which means “and they were sent” referring to the Jewish people’s official departure from Egypt. Pharaoh had enough, and “sends” the Jews on their way. The Jewish people are now on their way to the Promised Land, accompanied by clouds of glory by day, and a pillar of fire by night.
But Pharaoh (for the tenth time?) changes his mind and decides that he wants the Jews back. He doesn’t enjoy having to do work himself. He wants slaves! So he chases the Jews into the desert where they were encamped at the Sea. Panic broke out in the Jewish camp upon the site of Pharaoh’s chariots chasing after them, but God told them not to worry. “Proceed into the sea” He said. The sea split. The Egyptians drowned. And the rest is history.
Once on the other side of the sea, the Jewish people began what was to become forty years of wandering the desert. And what was the primary dish on their daily menu? Manna. Manna was the miraculous bread that fell every day from Heaven that the Jews sustained themselves with while in the desert. Our sages teach us that the Manna tasted like anything the one eating it wished it to taste like! Perhaps a pancake-tasting Manna for breakfast, and a hamburger and fries tasting Manna for dinner. The sky was the limit!
To this day, the Manna has been the symbol of sustenance (parnassa) and faith in Hashem that He will provide for all our needs. Manna only came once a day, and only enough for that day. The Jewish people were forced to trust in God that tomorrow too, they would have food and survive. It was probably not so easy to trust in God in the hot, snake-and-scorpion filled desert without any food. Indeed, some people tried to “sneak and save” Manna for tomorrow in defiance of God’s command not to take more than needed for that very day. Those of little faith who disobeyed found maggots all over their Manna and tent the next day. But that was the intention. God wanted to show us that everything would be ok. His word is His word. He wasn’t going to forsake the Jews now and let them die of starvation. The Manna came down every day as promised.
And so it is today. Where does our parnassa (sustenance) come from? Do you really think it comes from your paycheck? Your employer? The success of your company? Nope. It all comes directly from God. Nevertheless, we do have to go out and work for it. God helps those who help themselves! We can’t sit back in bed or on our couches all day long, saying to ourselves that God will simply send our parnassa. Indeed, even the Jews in the desert had to go out and fetch the Manna. It didn’t descend right into their stomachs.
Although the economy may sometimes look grim and insecure, we must always remember that our sustenance is under the direct watch of God above. God will decide how to ensure that we have what we need, whether it be through a pay raise or winning the lotto, God’s power is without bounds. We must remember that when it comes to our sustenance and livelihood there is only one place to look for help and assistance: Look up! He didn’t let us down back then in the desert and He won’t let us down today
January 26, 2013
My Non-Jewish Boyfriend
Jennifer Cooper, Aish.com
I was the one who adamantly declared that I would never marry out. Not because my parents were against it; they didn’t need to tell me because my traditional Jewish upbringing and day-school education were my safeguards. I was so connected to my Jewish identity that my betrayal of it was not even statistically probable.
Some of my friends began dating non-Jews. I stopped socializing with them in silent protest, after a more outspoken effort had failed. I self-righteously concluded that we had nothing in common, since they were prepared to give their Jewish identity the backseat. I was sitting firmly in the driver’s seat with mine, so much so that I became the leader of a Zionist youth movement, and started to mix with an idealistic new crowd.
In the Talmud, Rabbi Hillel warns us that we should be careful not to judge another person until we have stood in their place. And I was going places
The Heartthrob
One night I went to a party for friends who had just returned from a year in Israel. It was an inspiring night full of memories and promise for the future. As we gathered round looking at photos, I pretended not to notice the attractive guy sitting next to me.
I don’t remember making conversation, but apparently I must have mumbled something, since the next morning the host of the party told me that Mr. Attractive had inquired after me. As I was catching my breath, she casually mentioned, “Oh, I told him you don’t date non-Jews, and he’s fine with that. He just wants to meet you. He really liked you.”
This was a delicate situation, to say the least. Here I was, being pursued by a bona fide heartthrob with absolutely no strings attached. He was an advertising executive. Flutter. He had a motorbike. Swoon. And, if that wasn’t enough for my ego, he was a commercial pilot.
Help!
A Night to Remember
We set a date to meet. I convinced myself it would be a completely harmless evening that would chalk up a point for my flirting skills. I decided to keep it a secret from my parents.
We revved up the night with a ride on his motorbike. Then we talked, and laughed, and talked and laughed some more. Oy. This was tougher than I thought. I didn’t want the night to end. Neither did he. So, unbelievably, on the first date we spoke about him converting. That was his ticket to a second date.
And a third, and a fourth. Things were getting serious, but I was ignoring the ramifications, because, you remember, I was not going to marry out. Soon I realized that I couldn’t practically hide it from my parents any longer.
The Fifth Commandment
The confession took place at a restaurant. I simply let my parents know that I was dating a non-Jew, but not to worry. They should know me well enough to know that I wasn’t going to marry him. To their credit, they didn’t say much. Not because we were in a public place, but because they were smart enough to think before they spoke. Dinner ended awkwardly, amidst the forlorn clinking of cutlery toying with barely eaten food.
The next day, I delivered my father his traditional Sunday breakfast in bed. He thanked me softly. He was crying. I had not seen him shed a tear since his mother passed away, over a decade before.
Later, in the kitchen, I baked cakes with my mother.
“You should know,” she suddenly said, “we won’t be rude to him if you bring him here. But don’t expect us to be anything other than civil. It’s just too hard.”
I wanted so much to honor my parents. Why couldn’t they trust me?
Seeking Legal Counsel
The next day I found myself in the car with my father. We parked in the driveway. There we sat for a good few minutes, lost in our separate worlds. I, in my bubble of optimistic self-gratification, and my father – mourning the potential loss of future generations. Finally, I broke the heavy silence.
“Dad, why is it so important that Jews marry Jews?”
“Because it’s important that we preserve our unique heritage.” he replied, surprised by this basic question coming from me.
I wasn’t buying it.
“Yes, but what’s so special about our heritage, I mean, why is it SO important that there be Jews in the world?” I challenged.
“Because we are supposed to be a light among the nations,” he stressed, wondering where this was going. I pressed on, going for the jugular.
“So, Dad, if our heritage is so special, and we have to be a light among the nations, and my entire future depends on it, why do I eat McDonalds, and why on earth don't we keep Shabbat?!”
More silence. This time, it was my father that spoke. “I don’t know. I guess I never thought that far,” he admitted, somewhat ashamed.
For the first time ever, I had stumped my brilliant lawyer father. But he still had one last trick up his sleeve. His seasoned logic.
“Look, if, as you say, you are definitely not going to marry the guy, then why on earth would you keep dating him? If it’s so hard for you to end it now, think how difficult it will be later, since there will be a time when it will end, according to you. Why would an intelligent girl do that to herself, or worse, to the person she says she cares about?!”
He was right.
My heart was heavy with respect for my parents and the desire to please them. I felt the weight of my Jewish identity on my fragile shoulders. What exactly was I trying to preserve and protect? After all, I was not religious. Why had it been so fundamentally clear to me that I would marry a Jew? And what had happened to that clarity?
I had been taking my Jewishness for granted. Jewish day school, Jewish friends, a traditional Jewish home. There had been no challenge, no threat, no temptation. No chance to think or look outside the box. But now my exclusive Jewish education and traditional upbringing was on trial. Was it enough to save me?
I took the witness stand. For the first time in my life, I consciously thought about, and decided, who I was, what I wanted to be, and what was truly important. I was first and foremost a Jew. My heritage mattered. I wanted it to continue to be a part of my life. And it was vitally important that my future husband feel the same.
The Verdict: A strong Jewish identity saves Jews.
The Breakup
It wasn’t so difficult after that. A short, tense phone call ended what would have been the mistake of a lifetime. I never saw or spoke to him again, although I cried for days. I don’t really know why, but I think it had something to do with my soul.
This is an event that took place almost two decades ago, but looking at today’s frightening assimilation statistics, it could have happened yesterday.
I almost became a statistic, except for one redeeming factor: I cared.
I believe this is the factor that can make the difference. The factor that needs to be nurtured in our communities: caring. Caring about the Jewish people. Caring about our heritage, our legacy. Caring about the past, caring about our future. Caring about the future generations. Caring about our parents, caring about each other. If we want the Jewish People to survive, we need to care about all these things, more than we care about ourselves.
Getting Back to Basics
How do we practically go about nurturing a caring relationship with our Jewishness? It starts, continues and ends in our homes. Period.
All the private Jewish day schooling, extra-curricular activities, tutoring, youth groups, social events, community get-togethers, online newsletters, dating clubs and support groups have a gargantuan uphill battle and built-in disadvantage when faced with the masses of Jews that grow up in homes void of any practical Jewish expression.
Jewish educational institutions and community groups are the necessary lifelines that extend from our homes to our collective future. We need to nourish ourselves with more Jewishness in order to ensure their success.
We want our children to care about the meaning of being Jewish. We need to nurture their Jewish identity to the point that it becomes innate. Our homes are where we nurture, and where our children learn to care. Our homes are where we show our children what it is important to care about.
A lot of people feel that they need to make a great sacrifice to live out their Jewishness. It is an even greater sacrifice not to. We can’t be complacent for lack of funding, knowledge, the right address or social circle. The good news is, caring is not a sacrifice. It’s fun, and it’s far-reaching.
How do we put a little Yiddishkeit into our homes? If you ask anyone that grew up with it, they will tell you the same thing: it’s the simple rituals that have the greatest impact. Lighting Shabbat candles, decorating a sukkah or eating matzah on Passover, putting up mezuzahs on every doorway, laying some Jewish books proudly out on the coffee table, saying Shema Yisrael with our children, hanging out an Israeli flag on Israel’s Independence Day. These are the definitive moments that can carve a caring Jew out of the stoniest backdrop of threatened assimilation.
Our Torah and Jewish calendar are filled with a veritable treasure trove of tradition and meaningful ritual, enabling us to live uniquely enhanced lives filled with memorable moments of celebration and wisdom, all with that inimitable Jewish flavor.
These are the moments that kept me in the fold. They can impact you and your children, too.
March 11, 2013
Happy Birthday to one of my beautiful Treasures....wishing you abundant good health, success and exponential joy and nachat from your own treasures my precious Devora!
September 24, 2013
Sending all wishes for a meaningful fast and may the coming year be an even better year, and may we all be better, more meaningful, and more considerate people – to ourselves, to our family, to our community, to our fellows Jews everywhere and to the whole world!
2012
January 16, 2012
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.~ Martin Luther King, Jr.
February 24, 2012
It's mommy and Elisheva Shabbos...just the two of us...a peaceful and meaningful one to all
March 4, 2012
President Peres at AIPAC: "As I left my village as a child my grandfather whispered three words to me: 'Shimon, stay Jewish.' Soon after he was forced by the Nazis into the wooden synagogue along with all the remaining Jews and the synagogue was set on fire. No one survived. I never forgot his words."
March 6, 2012
FROM RABBI WOLPE
Beloved is each person, taught Rabbi Akiba, because all human beings are in the image of God. But especially beloved because God has told us that we are in the Divine image. This source of worth does not change: when we succeed and when we fail, in times of joy or of sorrow, Rabbi Akiba's teaching is consolation and inspiration to each individual spark of God.
March 9, 2012
Rabbi Wolpe. Does prayer "work?" This I know: If you rise from prayer a kinder, deeper, better person than you were before, your prayer has been answered. Shabbat Shalom.
March 18, 2012
"I marvel at the way children seem to transform right before our eyes and this becomes a constant reminder to me that I too am always in the process of changing. The unique way each child absorbs the world, and so becomes the world, shows me my own kinship with all life. In effect, every child I care for becomes my precious teacher, and in so doing, humbles me, enhances my life and brings me spiritual enrichment. " Stephen Cowan, M.D.
March 18, 2012
Rabbi Moshe Averick
On the one hand the atheistic philosopher bids us to create an illusory meaning and value for life and on the other hand mocks religion for being illusory....For all the talk about separation of religion and state, it is obvious that American society could not exist or continue functioning without the religious, God-based principles on which it is founded. The sacred notion of the dignity of the individual that is expressed in the words “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal” is only because human beings stand equal before their infinite creator; it is only because of man’s unique relationship with God that he is inherently more precious than other beasts of the field
March 21, 2012
FROM RABBI WOLPE
Rabbi Simcha Bunim taught that every person should carry two pieces of paper, one in each pocket: in one pocket "For me the world was created." and in the other "I am but dust and ashes." When we have moments of self loathing take out the first; in moments of grandiosity the second. Our souls are poised between greatness and nothingness; in knowing both are we blessed.
March 23, 2012
So craving Shabbos...A peaceful and meaningful Shabbos to all….
March 23, 2012
Soaring high from all the warm birthday wishes and so forever grateful for those in my sphere both near and far...May we continue to strengthen each other in our journey through life...
March 27, 2012
"Death and life are in the power of the tongue." Proverbs 18:21.
So today, kind speech where you might be harsh. Begin the week gently, giving life with your words.
April 26, 2012
In Israel, in order to be a realist you must believe in miracles. — David Ben-Gurion
May 1, 2012
The stars are constantly shining, but often we do not see them until the dark hours. — Author unknown
May 22, 2012
FINALLY A SENSIBLE PERSPECTIVE ON THE ASIFAH!
It is easy to blame the Internet for all our problems. It is much more difficult and painful to consider the possibility that we have failed to communicate the true inner joy and light of Yiddishkeit to a generation that is anxious and ready to hear it.
Rabbi Moshe Weinberger Editor on April 19, 2012
Klal Perspectives, Spring 2012
Symposium on Connectedness
“Just One Thing is Missing: The Soul”
THE REBBE OF PIACEZNA, R’ Klonymous Kalman Shapiro, z”ya, was approaching his fortieth birthday:
“My heart pounds from my impending fortieth birthday, my entire body shakes from my oncoming declining years. Still, I will try to muster all my strength to commit myself and my life to G-d. Perhaps, perhaps, something will remain. But to what shall I commit myself? To learn more? I think that as far as possible, I don’t waste any time. To abstain from physical pleasures? If my own desires are not fooling me, thank G-d, I am not so attached to them. So what am I missing? Simply to be a Jew. I see myself as a self-portrait that shows all colors and features real to life. Just one thing is missing: the soul.” (Tzav V’ziruz, To Heal the Soul, page 45)
I have often reflected upon these searing words penned by the Aish Kodesh a decade before his holy body was consumed by the inferno of the Holocaust. The post-Holocaust generation has come of age. We have prospered financially and religiously. The self-portrait of our Torah community “shows all colors and features real to life.” Soon, the Siyum HaShas will take place before an anticipated audience of 90,000 people. Our institutions are bursting at the seams. We have a formidable array of daily and weekly publications filled with our own current events and advertisements for the latest, non-gebrokts, Pesach getaways. Many neighborhoods take pride in their “minyan factories” where a Maariv can be caught until the wee hours of the night. We have morning kollels and evening kollels and gemachs for everything under the sun. “Just one thing is missing: the Soul.”
R. Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev once called all the Jews of the city to a massive “asifa” (gathering) in the main shul. A hush fell over the “oilam” (crowd) as the Tzaddik climbed to the top of the bimah and cried out, “Yidden (Jews), don’t forget! You must always remember that the Ribbono Shel Olam (G-d) exists! He really exists!!” The Kedushas Levi was appealing to a shul filled with strictly observant Jews. Apparently, he felt that despite all the “colors and features” of Yiddishkeit, something very precious was slipping away. Real davening cannot be manufactured in a “minyan factory;” it longs for a soul. True tznius (modesty) is not just a matter of stockings and sleeves. It has a neshama, a soul. Torah learning that does not lead to a meaningful Torah life filled with sincere joy, authentic yiras shomayim and simple human decency, is without a soul.
In the seforim hakedoshim (holy books), this intangible ingredient, this soul, is often referred to as “ohr,” light. A couple might enjoy the security that comes with a marriage in which mutual responsibilities are taken seriously. But if that is all the marriage consists of, it is a dark and dismal home they share. When a relationship is “lichtig” (“lit up”), when it has a neshama, even the “C minor” of everyday life is illuminated by the light that binds them together.
The Noam Elimelech (Yisro) teaches that when Hashem gave us the Torah, He gave us infinitely more than the actual words and commandments. “And Hashem spoke all these words saying, ‘I am Hashem your G-d…’” (Shemos 20:1). “All these words” means not only the actual words, but all their implications, as well – even from the white space of the parchment surrounding them. According to Chazal, “I am” – in Hebrew “anochi” – is an acronym for ana nafshi kesavis, yehavis – “I have inscribed My very soul [in this Torah] that I’m giving you!”
In davening, we say, “with the light of Your face, You have given us a Torah of life.” It is impossible to define this light, but when it’s missing from a marriage, a family, a friendship, or from one’s Yiddishkeit, it is painfully obvious. Some might admit to remembering the lyrics of an old song, “Something inside has died, and I can’t hide it, and I just can’t fake it.”
Our communities – spanning the entire spectrum of Orthodoxy – are swarming with Jews of all ages and backgrounds who feel little, if any, connection to Hakadosh Baruch Hu (G-d). This is not a conclusion reached by way of scientific study or formal assessment, and it cannot be proved in a laboratory. It is, I believe, glaringly apparent to anyone who has taken a peak outside the bais medrash.
It is obvious to anyone who is not fooled by the billboard brand of frumkeit that is as shallow and empty as the so-called “Jewish” music blasting at our simchos. Forget about data. The “defectors” who simply couldn’t go on hiding and faking have shed the external uniforms of Yiddishkeit to become the object of our latest outreach efforts. These individuals comprise but a fraction of those who are simply unable, or who are afraid, to disengage, who listlessly drag their feet through the motions of avodas Hashem (service of G-d), while waiting desperately for the next “bain hazmanim” (intercession), “break in davening,” or any other distraction from the monotony of the charade.
This type of “disengagement” or “disconnection” has little to do with the intellect or with matters of theology. Thus, enjoying a fascinating shiur provides little assurance that one will find meaning in davening, or even behave in shul. It does not even prove that he believes in anything at all. Attending a seminar on the meaning of davening and the structure of the siddur, while important, has little to do with passionatetefilah. Many of our grandparents knew much less about davening than we do. They, however, knew G-d, cared deeply about Him and lived in an ongoing dialogue with Him.
This void is wreaking havoc upon the spiritual integrity of our communities. Yet, this very same void is itself responsible for a resurgence of spiritual longing among those who are honest enough to admit that something is so terribly wrong and broken that something must be done about it.
We are all familiar with a number of wonderful kiruv initiatives that were initially established as a means of reaching out to the assimilated and unaffiliated. While these are still the populations officially being targeted by kiruv seminars and shabbatons, a large percentage of attendees are actually (forgive me) FFB’s of all stripes and colors. Last year, I was asked to speak at such a convention and prepared a drasha geared for the uninitiated and newly observant. Upon arriving, it became quite apparent to me that the great bulk of those attending were Chassidish, Yeshivish, Heimish and Modern Orthodox. Their common denominator? The intense longing they had to connect to Hashem and the sincere need they had to understand why they were keeping mitzvos and making sacrifices for Yiddishkeit.
Many shared with me a sense of “lamah nigara” – why should we be kept back and denied the rich spirituality and the open and honest discussions about emunahtypically offered to our secular brothers and sisters? Mind you, these were intelligent, observant individuals – most graduates of our finest yeshivos and seminaries. Why do so many of our fold flock to Carlebach minyanim on Friday night, or try valiantly to introduce some of the song and spirit into their shul’s davening? And these are not a fringe element of “holy hippies.” To dismiss or misinterpret these and many other phenomena of this genre would be both wrong and dangerous. Jews – healthy, learned, and sincere Jews – are aching for meaning and inspiration. They are not, G-d forbid, rejecting traditional Torah learning and halacha, nor do they seek to stir some revolution against the old guard. They are simply searching for the soul and light they are missing.
These various trends and behaviors should cause us to wonder whether or not the latest technology is truly the greatest problem facing Klal Yisroel. Judging by the number of proclamations, as well as their content and tone, one might conclude that our world would simply be perfect but for the Internet and all of the accompanying gadgetry that comes along with it. Life would return to the simpler and more civilized sixties and seventies. It is quite obvious that technology creates a serious threat to all that we’ve worked so hard to achieve, and we must support every effort to combat this malady. Yet, there is something I find profoundly pathetic in the great search for the perfect filter.
The Nesivos Sholom (Tzav) cites a mashal (parable) in which a certain fellow would like to build a housing development on a huge piece of property that he owns. The property, however, is covered by a forest, so he grabs an axe and begins to chop away. After falling a tree or two, he realizes that even if he were to have a whole crew of lumberjacks, this effort would take many years. It dawns on him that what he needs is a fire – a powerful, controlled conflagration that can destroy the forest in a matter of minutes. The Nesivos Sholom explains that it takes a fiery, passionate, and soulful Yiddishkeit to overcome the vast forests of filth and confusion that dominate our environment.
In every generation, the outside world stands as a tempting alternative to Yiddishkeit. History and common sense prove repeatedly that wielding the axe can never provide more than a short-term, superficial respite from the onslaught of secularism. Hashem sent the Baal Shem Tov and R’ Yisroel Salanter to set Klal Yisroel on fire! Only a deep, introspective, passionate Yiddishkeit bursting with a tangible consciousness of Hashem’s presence can expose the emptiness of any alternative.
Let’s face it: if on Monday the anti-Internet convention takes a powerful swipe at the latest technology, by Tuesday the kids (and the “young at heart”) will discover something better and faster. Many express shock upon hearing about the latest fad of Shabbos text messaging. But was this not inevitable? What exactly does Shabbos mean for these kids? In fact, what does Shabbos mean for many of their parents? Aside from some fuzzy familiarity with the do’s and don’ts, what is it about Shabbos that would make the pastime of Friday night texting abhorrent in their eyes? The shock is usually followed by a shaking of the head and the comment “but he (or she) is learning in a fine yeshiva!?” It is true. The yeshivos are wonderful, and they are filled with many talented and sincere rabbeim and teachers. But there is Torah and there is Torah.
The navi (prophet) Amos said (8:11), “Behold days are coming, says Hashem, when I will send a famine in the land – not a famine for bread nor thirst for water, but for hearing the word of Hashem.”
One of Ramchal’s greatest disciples, R’ Moshe Dovid Valli, zt”l, in his commentary Mashmiya Yeshua, explains that, in Tanach, Torah is often referred to as bread and water. During our long galus (exile), there have been an astonishing number ofseforim written and an incredible amount of Torah taught. Is it really accurate to describe our present state as a famine or drought? Whoever is hungry for Torah and thirsting for its wisdom can simply dive into the infinite resources at his fingertips! R’ Moshe Dovid answers that the key lies in the final words of the verse; “but for hearing the words of Hashem”:
ומ”ש: “לא רעב ללחם ולא צמא למים” וגו’, הטעם הוא, שהרי בזמן הגלות והסיתום אין שום רעב וצמא ממימיה ולחמה של תורה, כי אדרבא לא נתחברו ספרים כל כך ארוכים ורבים כמו בזמן הגלות שרבו הדרשנים בהם ועשו ספרים הרבה אין קץ. אלא שיש בהם פטומי מלין הרבה מאד, והאמת שהוא הנקרא ממש “דברי ה’” הנה היא מעט מזעיר בכל ספר וספר. וזהו הטעם שישראל שהם זרע אמת אינם מוצאים קורת רוח ברוב הספרים שכתבו המחברים שלהם לפי סברתם ורבוי המחלקות ותהיא האמת נעדרת בהם, מפני הקליפה הסותמת שלא הניחה לעבור אורות האמת בעת שליטתה. וזהו שגורם: לא רעב ללחם ולא צמא למים כמ”ש, אלא רעב וצמא לשמוע את “דברי ה’”, שהוא סוד האמת ממש
Yes, never before have as many Jews had the privilege to learn Torah. Neither a famine nor drought has befallen us. Our generation is starving for “divrei Hashem” – the clear, deep, penetrating and powerful divrei Hashem.
The kids “off the derech” or “on the fringe” are not running away from Yiddishkeit. They have never met it. Rebbe Nachman of Breslov once told an atheist: “I also don’t believe in the God you don’t believe in!” Look into the eyes and hearts of the kids on the streets and in the clubs. You will see the hunger and thirst for the “divrei Hashem” – for the truth and nothing but the truth. Rav Kook wrote of the “chutzpah,” the insolence, that Chazal predicted would be rampant before the arrival of Moshiach. The time has come when many are simply refusing to settle for merely bits and pieces of the truth. If this demand is not satisfied, if our schools and homes ignore or misinterpret this hungry chutzpah as rejection, it will claim countless more victims.
“The human soul relishes sensation, not only if it is a pleasant feeling but for the very experience of stimulation. Sooner sadness or some deep pain rather than the boredom of no stimulation. People will watch distressing scenes and listen to heartrending stories just to get stimulation. Such is human nature. So he who is clever will fulfill this need with passionate prayer and Torah learning. But the soul whose divine service is without emotion will have to find stimulation elsewhere. It will either be driven to cheap – even forbidden – sensation or it will become emotionally ill from lack of stimulation.” (Tzav V’Zeruz, To Heal the Soul, page 23)
It is easy to blame the Internet for all our problems. It is much more difficult and painful to consider the possibility that we have failed to communicate the true inner joy and light of Yiddishkeit to a generation that is anxious and ready to hear it.
Recently, a serious, G-d-fearing young man, who teaches math in a yeshiva high school, told me that his students shared with him (though not with their Rebbe) their skepticism about G-d’s existence and the truth of Torah. Many simply admitted that they do not really believe in anything. Mind you, this is an afternoon, secular class. The boys had spent the entire morning engaged in sophisticated “lomdus,” (Talmudic analysis) and by four o’clock in the afternoon they are candidly sharing with a teacher their doubts in Torah MeSinai (divinity of the Torah). The teacher, a Baal Teshuvawho fought long and hard to become who he is, shared with his class some of the thoughts and insights that inspired him on his journey to Yiddishkeit. The boys were very inspired, and asked to continue the discussion after school hours. The teacher told me that he went to the administrator but was told that these are issues that are best left to the home. Unlike him, he was told, these boys come from frum homes and have a “mesorah” (tradition) about these matters (i.e., they can be presumed to have each picked up the correct beliefs they need). Those who are intimately familiar with the situation know that this is far from an isolated or extreme incident.
What is to be done? As the questions is posed: “Are there any proven methods to inspire observant Jews experiencing a gap in religious enthusiasm?” The answer, I believe, is a resounding YES! We must pursue two approaches in meeting this challenge: one experiential and one educational.
Rav Yosef Ber Soloveitchik zt”l, often agonized over what he felt was his inability to impart the emotional world of Yiddishkeit to his students. In a lecture delivered in 1968, he said,
“In the past, this great experience of the tradition was not handed down from generation to generation through the medium of words. It was absorbed through osmosis; somehow, through silence. We used to observe. Today in America, however, and in the Western world, this is completely lost. The father cannot pass it on to his son. The father does not possess these emotions, because he never observed and experienced them. He cannot expect his son to receive something he himself does not possess. Therefore, it is up to the Yeshiva and the teacher to open up the emotional world of Judaism to the student…”
In this lecture, Rav Soleveitchik insisted that the only way to inspire the observant is by having them actually observe inspired Yiddishkeit in the parents, rabbis, teachers, and mentors of the generation.
“…I do not believe that we can afford to be as reluctant, modest, and shy today as we were in the past about describing our relationship with the Almighty. If I want to transmit my experiences, I have to transmit myself, my own heart. How can I merge my soul and personality with the students? It is very difficult. Yet it is exactly what is lacking on the American scene” (The Rav. R’ Aaron Rakefet, Vol. 2, pages 168-169).
In essence, there needs to be a fundamental reconstruction of the traditional model of the teacher/rabbi.
On another occasion, the Rav explained that, “the disconnection of modern man from living examples of religious experience has made self-revelation an educational necessity.” It is fascinating that the most sought-after speakers and teachers generally are not known for their scholarship. Their effectiveness is in their ability to inspire – not by dazzling their audiences with brilliant insights, but by sharing their own experiences and struggles in Yiddishkeit. Self-revelation has become an absolute educational necessity.
Obviously, this is difficult to implement. How can a rebbe or rabbi transform himself into such a person? There are no guidelines for this; it is usually a matter of one’s personal charisma. Nevertheless, there must be constant encouragement in this area. Again, it would be helpful to make use of the methods commonly used in Jewish outreach: storytelling, music, shabbatons or other such venues of inspiration. All of these have proven to be astonishingly effective in the world of kiruv, and the observant are desperately in need of this warm, exciting brand of experiential Yiddishkeit.
On the educational front, our institutions must begin to bring the Infinite into the four Amos (cubits) of the classroom and of the shul. Rebbeim, morahs, and rabbonim must be trained to impart the heart and soul of Yiddishkeit in a lucid and inspiring way. There are many extraordinary mashpiim and mashpios (influential role models) whose talents have been mostly tapped by the world of Jewish outreach. We (the “FFB’s”) must admit that many of our rabbis and educators are simply unfamiliar or uncomfortable with the language of emunah. There seems to be an expectation thatemunah will be miraculously conveyed to baalei batim and students by means of some mysterious osmosis that is perhaps complemented by an occasional shabbaton or seminar. But, it ain’t happening.
The thirteen fundamental principles of faith must become a basic part of the curriculum in all schools and shuls. G-d must be brought back into our institutions and into our homes. It makes no difference if one place prefers a Litvishe G-d and the other a Chassidishe G-d. Open and frank discussions about faith and doubt must be encouraged – not feared and stymied. To ignore these critical dimensions of religious growth by claiming that it would supplant the traditional format of chinuch is, I submit, a grave error. All the regular Torah learning must surely continue. If anything, such learning will be energized and uplifted when taught to individuals who are struggling to get to the bottom of what this whole undertaking known as Yiddishkeit is about.
It would be wonderful if seforim such as Nesivos Sholom, Bilvavi Mishkan Evneh (Rav Itamar Schwartz) and those of R’ Shimshon Pincus, zt”l, would be adapted as a means of developing a curriculum to teach emunah, beginning even with young children.
I have often been asked whether it is really possible to teach emunah as a subject. The answer is no. A rabbi, rebbi, teacher, and parent must begin with the belief thatemunah is inherent to the Jewish Soul. The child/student/congregant is already amaamin (believer). Rather than actually being taught, faith already lies in theneshama, but must be nurtured and drawn out through Torah, tefilah, and kiyum hamitzvos. There is a great thirst for pnimiyus HaTorah (the inner light of Torah) that cannot be ignored. It is a healthy sign of revival that must be used as a tool of inspiration in classrooms and congregations. We must begin.
I conclude with a story that my daughter, Suri, shared with me. It is apocryphal, but it hits the mark. Years ago in London, a poetry recital was taking place in a large auditorium. The finalists in the competition were given one last poem to recite – the twenty third Psalm. The obvious winner was a young gentleman whose rendition of the Psalm was perfect. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want… He restores my soul… and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” The audience responded with thunderous applause.
Suddenly, an elderly, Eastern European Jew called out, “Judges! Would it be alright if I had a chance to say the Psalm?” The judges were amused and invited him up to the stage. In his heavy accent, the gentleman made his way through the kapitel (chapter). A reverent hush fell over the crowd, and many people were moved to tears. The winner received his prize but followed the old man out to the street. “Rabbi, you know that you really deserve the prize.” “Not at all,” he responded. “I wasn’t competing. You did a fine job and it belongs to you.” The young man continued: “But rabbi, perhaps you could explain to me why it is that when I concluded the Psalm the audience cheered, but when you concluded many people were crying?” The alter Yid replied: “The difference between you and me is that I know the Shepherd.”
Hopefully, the recitation of our Yiddishkeit will soon be accompanied by an honest – if somewhat accented and imperfect – outpouring of the soul. The Ribbono Shel Olam is waiting for us, and the prize is redemption, waiting right there in His outstretched hand.
To view the other responses in this issue, CLICK HERE.Rabbi Moshe Weinberger is the Rav of Congregation Aish Kodesh in Woodmere, New York.
June 14, 2012
...small gesture...powerful impact...we all have that power if we look or recognize opportunities…
Beautiful Story from Rabbi Wolpe
My father’s father died when my father was 11. His mother was a widow at 34, and he — an only child — bore much of his grief alone. In accordance with traditional practice, he began to walk very early to synagogue each morning to say prayers in his father’s memory for the next year.
At the end of his first week, he noticed that the ritual director of the synagogue, Mr. Einstein, walked past his home just as he left to walk to synagogue. Mr. Einstein, already advanced in years explained, “Your home is on the way to the synagogue. I thought it might be fun to have some company. That way, I don’t have to walk alone.”
For a year my father and Mr. Einstein walked through the New England seasons, the humidity of summer and the snow of winter. They talked about life and loss and, for a while, my father was not so alone.
After my parents married and my oldest brother was born, my father called Mr. Einstein, now well into his 90s and asked if he could meet his new wife and child. Mr. Einstein agreed, but said that in view of his age my father would have to come to him. My father writes:“The journey was long and complicated. His home, by car, was fully twenty minutes away. I drove in tears as I realized what he had done. He had walked for an hour to my home so that I would not have to be alone each morning. … By the simplest of gestures, the act of caring, he took a frightened child and he led him with confidence and with faith back into life.”
United With Israel.September 3, 2012
Elie Wiesel: "Jerusalem must remain the world’s Jewish spiritual capital, not a symbol of anguish and bitterness, but a symbol of trust and hope. As the Hasidic master Rebbe Nahman of Bratslav said, “Everything in this world has a heart; the heart itself has its own heart." Our Heart is Jerusalem!
September 11, 2012
Eleven years ago today I had just given birth to our youngest daughter, Elisheva, feeling abundantly blessed yet at the same time fearful for the state of the world and humanity into which she was born... feeling the emotional high of having a healthy child and at the same time plummeting down into uncertainty and fear... Days later on Rosh Hashana...realizing that something wonderful can happen at the same time as something terrible and that in our darkest moments there is always light...there is always hope.. (9/11/12)
September 16, 2012
Wishing all a New Year filled with the blessings of abundant good health, spiritual growth, prosperity, success and joy from all of the treasures in our lives...in other words a Shana Tova U'Metukah...and of course a peaceful year for Israel.
September 30, 2012
SO IMPACTFUL! Sukkot and Happiness...
Sukkot is the holiday of “back to basics.” For seven days (eight in the Diaspora), we move out of our comfortable home into a flimsy sukkah. We leave behind the central heating, the furniture, the posturepedic mattress, the recessed lighting, the carpets, the hardwood flooring, the DVD player, the flat-screen TV, and—how spoiled can you get?—the rain-impervious roof. Yet this is the holiday when we have a mitzvah to be especially happy! What exactly are we supposed to be happy about?
In the snuggest juxtaposition in the Jewish calendar, Sukkot comes a mere five days after Yom Kippur. On Yom Kippur, the day when every person’s destiny for the year is sealed, we pray and plead for life. Yes, we also pray for good health, livelihood, marriage, children, a new job, and whatever else we relish, but most of all we pray for life.
Then here we are, five days later, in our cramped, no-frills sukkah. We don’t have our creature comforts or our hi-tech pleasures, but we do have—life. We have no guarantee that we’ll be alive a few months—or even a few days—from now. But right now, sitting on a folding chair in the sukkah, we have life, the fulfillment of our cherished desire. Of course we should rejoice in it.
A simple formula: appreciate life, relationships, and closeness to God. That’s a lot to be happy about.
AISH.COM
"Life's Most Important App"
Appreciating More With Less
by Sara Yoheved Rigler
The text messages of a dying man reveal a lot about who he was. Larry Melzer, 37, was losing his 17-month battle with leukemia. Lying in a bed in an Israeli hospital, suffering from viral pneumonia after a bone marrow transplant, Larry was on a respirator. His four little daughters were at home in Jerusalem. Larry’s devoted wife Jen was at his bedside. Shabbat was approaching. Larry could not eat, drink, nor speak, but his fingers kept maneuvering his iPhone.
Shortly before Shabbat, Larry received a text message from a friend who was also battling cancer, commiserating how dreary it was to spend Shabbat in the hospital. After Shabbat the same friend wrote:
Thinking of u. Hope Shabbos was bearable!
Larry texted back:
It was great, jen was here, don’t worry it will be great
Great? He was hooked up to 15 separate antibiotic infusions, his once-athletic six-foot frame was shriveled, his handsome face aged and wizened. He had endured a Shabbat without reciting Kiddush, eating challah, singing songs, enjoying food, or embracing his beloved children. The only bright spot was that his faithful wife Jen was there. Yet Larry considered that Shabbat, “great.”
In great pain due to sores from radiation, while receiving an emergency blood transfusion, Larry said with a smile, "I’m so happy.”A few months prior, Larry had been rushed from Jerusalem to a hospital in Haifa. As his friend Daniel Irom relates: “After a long drive, after he hadn’t slept in a few days due to being on large doses of steroids, while in great pain due to mouth and throat sores from radiation, while receiving an emergency blood transfusion, Larry turned to me with a smile that seemed to come from Heaven and said, ‘I’m so happy.’”
What was he happy about?
Larry and Jen, at the peak of their successful Yahoo careers, had a fabulous Manhattan apartment, an SUV, many DINK [Double Income No Kids] friends, and two dogs. Then they started to become interested in their Jewish heritage. In 2004, they went to Jerusalem for a six-month sabbatical to study Judaism.
There Larry fell in love with Judaism. With his personal charisma and passionate personality, he reached out to share his enthusiasm with everyone he met. While continuing to enjoy the pleasures of the physical world, he infused them with a spiritual awareness and appreciation. “More than once,” relates Gabi Leventhal, “I would be enjoying a wine, a whiskey, a delicious meal with Larry, and before we began to fulfill our appetites, Larry would redirect everyone and talk about all the kindnesses that God has done for him and for everyone else present." He transformed the enjoyment of eating to a sublime state of gratitude.
Eric Rayburn, a former single from Manhattan, recounts a conversation he had with Larry during the period of his struggling to adjust to the Spartan standard of Jerusalem while learning at Aish HaTorah. Larry said to him: “Jerusalem! This is the Wall Street of Judaism. Do you know how many people would love to trade places with you?”
“But, Larry,” Eric protested, “I live in a room without a window and it’s smaller than the second bathroom where I used to live!”
"The key is appreciating what you have. Every second is a precious million- dollar gift."Larry, in a corporate business manager tone, replied: “I understand, and you are so lucky that the Almighty has invested His time in you to teach you how to appreciate more with less.”
“To appreciate more with less” became Larry’s approach to life. A month before he died, he posted this blog on his website:
Fighting Leukemia for me is about becoming unspoiled. I feel like I went from being a spoiled baby to a mature adult during this 16 month process. I have a zest for life I never had before!
This zest for life is indescribable. How can I possibly communicate being able to see the hand of God in everything? I live in a world where everything is perfect.
The key is appreciating what you have…. Every second is a precious million dollar gift.
Sukkot and Happiness
Sukkot is the holiday of “back to basics.” For seven days (eight in the Diaspora), we move out of our comfortable home into a flimsy sukkah. We leave behind the central heating, the furniture, the posturepedic mattress, the recessed lighting, the carpets, the hardwood flooring, the DVD player, the flat-screen TV, and—how spoiled can you get?—the rain-impervious roof. Yet this is the holiday when we have a mitzvah to be especially happy! What exactly are we supposed to be happy about?
In the snuggest juxtaposition in the Jewish calendar, Sukkot comes a mere five days after Yom Kippur. On Yom Kippur, the day when every person’s destiny for the year is sealed, we pray and plead for life. Yes, we also pray for good health, livelihood, marriage, children, a new job, and whatever else we relish, but most of all we pray for life.
Then here we are, five days later, in our cramped, no-frills sukkah. We don’t have our creature comforts or our hi-tech pleasures, but we do have--life. We have no guarantee that we’ll be alive a few months—or even a few days—from now. But right now, sitting on a folding chair in the sukkah, we have life, the fulfillment of our cherished desire. Of course we should rejoice in it.
We also have relationships. No one builds a one-person sukkah. We sit in the sukkah with family — parents/siblings/spouse/children. If Larry Melzer could consider his deathbed Shabbat “great” simply because his wife was with him, how can we not appreciate that greatest accoutrement to life: relationship? The presence of a loved one turns a house into a home and a sukkah into a sanctuary.
There’s one more ingredient to the joy of Sukkot. On Yom Kippur we are cleansed of all the tainting culpability that has tinged us throughout the year. We emerge from Yom Kippur pure and perfectly prepared for the closeness to God that the sukkah affords.
A simple formula: appreciate life, relationships, and closeness to God. That’s a lot to be happy about.
Larry's Final Words
For both Larry and Jen, the fact that he was dying was no excuse to stop living. At one point, after ten rounds of chemo, Larry was in remission. It seemed like he would make it, after all. Then his doctor in Haifa told Larry that she was 95% sure that he was no longer in remission. Larry phoned Jen to break the news. “Jenny, the doctor said I relapsed.”
Jen, devastated but always encouraging, replied: “It’s going to be okay.”
Sobbing, Larry continued: “The doctor wants to talk to you about when I’m going to restart chemo. She says I have to restart chemo tomorrow.” Larry paused, collected himself, and said cheerily, “But tonight let’s have a date night. Let’s go out to dinner.”
“That’s a good idea,” she enthused. “We need to have fun, not worry about it.”
He left me with a big sack of faith. That’s how a young widow with four children can face the world with a genuine smile.“Larry had unbounded faith,” Jen recalls. “On the day he got the original diagnosis, when they told him he had a matter of days to live, Larry said to me, ‘All news is good news.’ He meant that everything is from God and therefore everything is for the good. That’s what he left me with, a big sack of faith. And that’s how, as a young widow with four children, I can face the world with a genuine smile.”
At the end, losing the battle against viral pneumonia, Larry's doctors decided to induce a coma. At that point, Jen had been with her husband for five days, around the clock. Larry clasped her hand, looked into her eyes, and with gasping breath, said, “Thank you.”
“It was clear to me, “ Jen recalls, “that Larry was thanking me for everything I had done for him during the last 17 months, for getting his medications and making sure he took them, for feeding him, being his personal nurse, taking care of the kids single-handedly, paying bills, food shopping, and keeping the family afloat. He knew he was coming to his end, so he left nothing unsaid. He thanked me. It meant: I love you; you did everything right.”
Larry knew only one way to say good-bye: Thank you.
This Sukkot, let’s acquire life's most important app — appreciation.
Update 18 months later: I am happy to add the latest news: Jen remarried in September, 2012. Her four daughters are thrilled to have a father presence in their lives again.
For Sara Yoheved Rigler's acclaimed, free Introductory Marriage Workshop for women, click here.
October 17, 2012
"To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting." - e.e. cummings
October 24, 2012
And on this week's Torah Portion... When Abraham is called to leave home, God does not tell him where he is going: "To the place that I will show you." Each of us will wander and cannot know the where the path will lead. Abraham not only anticipated the destination but cherished the journey. You cannot find your way if you are unwilling to be lost.____Rabbi Wolpe
October 25, 2012
One evening a grandson asked his grandfather.
"Grandpa, what is wisdom?"
His Grandfather smiled and said, "It means to take advantage of all the experience and knowledge of others in order to know how to make the right decisions"
October 28, 2012 (Hurricane Sandy)
There has been a suggestion made that we recite Tehillim Perek 121 (Psalms Chapter 121)
in the merit that all of our family, friends and fellow Americans in the Northeast be kept safe and out of harms way during this monstrous storm.
November 2, 2012
In line for early voting...at least an hour wait..,that's ok..It"s a privilege not to be taken for granted
November 5, 2012
So proud and actually have tears in my eyes reading this one....New York City’s ultra-Orthodox Jews live in a world apart from the rest of the city. They have their own neighborhoods, send their kids to religious schools and wear a uniform of black hats and suits that makes them as distinct as an Amish farmer in Times Square. After the storm hit New York, hundreds of elderly and frail New Yorkers from the African-American and working-class neighborhoods of Far Rockaway and Coney Island had to be evacuated when their assisted-living facilities flooded or lost power. They were moved to the Park Slope Armory, where the only food available was Army rations—high-preservative, high-sodium ready-to-eat meals. So Brad Lander, a local city councilman, called Rabbi Alexander Rapaport, who runs the MASBIA soup kitchen in the ultra-orthodox neighborhood of Boro Park.
November 7, 2012
Perhaps some words of wisdom are in order for our road ahead...a reminder from Rav Nachman of Breslov:
"The whole world is a very narrow bridge and the main thing is to have no fear at all."
"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts." Winston Churchill
November 7, 2012
Rav Shlomo Chaim Ha-Cohen Aviner, a great talmid chacham in Israel, whose ahavat Yisrael is absolutely uncompromising is quoted as saying...
“Chilukai de’ot – kein; chilukai levavot – lo” - differences of opinion are fine; divisiveness between people is not.
By all means, people should express to each other their disagreements, their concerns and their views on politics. There should not be, however, hatred between us as Jews or as people. When there is such anger and hatred, bad things happen. Sometimes, very bad things happen.
November 16, 2012
Rabbi Ovadia Yosef has called on Jews to seek divine protection as well as taking safety measures. He declared Friday that worshipers should say Psalm 83 for the safety of Israeli civilians and soldiers after opening the Aron Kodesh, both on the Sabbath and during the week, for the duration of the military operation.
In addition, he called to recite the Avinu Malkenu prayer, not said on the Sabbath, at the end of weekday morning services (Shacharit). The prayer beseeches G-d as “Our Father, our King” to show mercy and grant divine protection.
November 22, 2012
People are often so quick to see the negatives with their lot as they gaze longingly at someone else's. But how do we appreciate what we have when it's so much easier to look to the next guy and covet away? I think it comes down to remembering what we deserve. A rabbi of mine once explained that there's no such word as "fair" in the Hebrew language.
If you want to say "fair," you have to actually say "fair," as modern Hebrew borrowed the word from English. There is justice in Hebrew, in terms of right and wrong, (that word is "tzedek") but "fair" is more of an idea of what's coming to me. And what do we deserve? What's coming to us? Absolutely nothing.
My rabbi went on: so often people ask "why do bad thing happen to good people?" but they never ask "Why do good things happen to good people?" We walk around with a sense of entitlement, but in truth every little thing we're given is a gift. An amazing gift from Above. And we should thank our lucky stars for every bit of blessing we get in this world.
November 29, 2012
I WISH YOU ENOUGH...
"At an airport I overheard a mother and daughter in their last moments together. They had announced her plane's departure and standing near the door, she said to her daughter, "I love you, I wish you enough."
She said, "Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom."
They kissed good-bye and she left.
She walked over toward the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see she wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on his
privacy, but she welcomed me in by asking, "Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?" "
Yes, I have," I replied. Saying that brought back memories I had of expressing my love and appreciation for all my Mom had done for me.
Recognizing that her days were limited, I took the time to tell her face to face how much she meant to me.
So I knew what this woman was experiencing.
"Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?" I asked.
"I am old and she lives much too far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is, her next trip back will be for my funeral, " she said.
"When you were saying good-bye I heard you say, 'I wish you enough.' May I ask what that means?" She began to smile. "That's a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone."
She paused for a moment and looking up as if trying to remember it in detail, she smiled even more. "When we said 'I wish you enough,' we were
wanting the other person to have a life filled with enough good things to sustain them," she continued and then turning toward me she shared the following as if she were reciting it from memory.
"I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish enough "Hello's" to get you through the final "Good-bye.."
December 13
December 13, 2012
Sometime hopefully soon I will complete my certification (in health coaching) and this will be my new career path...guess it's never too late to crystallize one's passion and interest.
"Medicine is not healthcare – Food is healthcare. Medicine is sick care. Let's all get this straight for a change."
December 20, 2012
from Mike Anthony: A man from California called a coffee shop in Newtown. The cashier hung up the phone with tears in her eyes. This man from so far away said he wanted to buy coffee for the entire town, so please bill him at the end of the day. "Comfort dogs" have come from all over, with their handlers, to offer whatever solace they can. Countless stories of people, from all over the world, asking, "how can I help? What can I do?" And it's so much more than a cup of coffee or a gentle dog to pet. It is the unbelievable sense that this thing has happened to all good people, everywhere, people who are begging to somehow share the burden of this indescribable loss. To lessen, in any small way they possibly can, this terrible load. Whenever horror of this nature strikes, the love that answers is always so powerful, so bright, that the darkness and shadows are obliterated. A man from California does the only thing he can think of in the moment to do. He buys coffee for thousands of people he will never meet, 3000 miles away. And up in heaven, God says, "another chance. I see hope yet."
December 21
Mauim Bialik on Sandy Hook, Faith & God
I found out about the massacre in Sandy Hook Friday midday. A friend of mine mentioned in an email, “Hug your boys tight given the horrendous news that came out.” Huh?
I went to NPR.org and my knees weakened. Any shooting tragedy is, well, tragic. But the headline mentioning that dozens of the victims were children–young children gunned down in their classroom–was too much to even process. And the school principal and psychologist shot as they rushed to try and stop the killer… unspeakably miserably profoundly deeply sickening.
The details of the unfolding of Sandy Hook have mesmerized me. As the child of teachers, as someone who myself has taught for years, and as someone who in my capacity as Texas Instrument’s spokesperson speaks to teachers all over the country, the senselessness of this shooting and its victims coupled with the stories coming out of brave teachers hiding children in barricaded classrooms and telling them they are loved so that God forbid if they were killed they would die feeling loved… it’s overwhelmingly furiously tragic.
What I have heard since Friday is a lot of “Why?” and also, its persistent cousin, “Where was God?”
Disclaimer: I want to share my thoughts about these questions not to detract from their significance but to express the truth of my belief system. This is not meant in any way to take away from those who will disagree with me, or those who feel I am discounting them. I express this as an alternate way to understand both the tragedy and the complexity of a relationship with the Divine.
Not once since Friday have I wondered what kind of God would let this happen. Not once have I felt angry at God, although I understand people who do. I’m speaking for myself personally: I don’t have any less faith in God because of this tragedy. God was there and God is still here.
Am I a “Everything’s great in God’s world” blind faith religious fanatic? Not at all. That’s not my shtick. I simply don’t believe in a God that monitors the world and eliminates evil and makes way for good as I deem it. I think history has demonstrated that that kind of God simply doesn’t exist and although there are strains of religions that believe God is weeding out the unworthy and the sinners, that doesn’t fly with me.
The Judeo-Christian God is a vengeful one for sure. And the Old Testament God rains down terror on the unworthy and sinner left right and center. But that’s not the whole picture of God. God has a path for all of us, and the path includes free will, and it includes evil, and it includes mental illness, and it includes all of us living on this crazy planet trying to survive and thrive and procreate and make something beautiful from the human condition which is, frankly, very complicated.
God, as I understand God, made everything. God made all potential good and evil. God is still in charge of everything, but it’s not going to be the Messianic Age until it’s the Messianic Age. And we are not there yet. We are in galus (exile) and exile is painful. It’s sad. It’s very far from beautiful. We’re not there yet.
The Jewish people are no strangers to “Where was God?” and I thought of this as the Kveller ladies and I discussed how we would write about Sandy Hook this week.
The most famous answer to “Where was God?” was given in one of the quintessential books about the Holocaust, Night by Elie Wiesel.
In one of the scenes of the book (which is not autobiography, but is fictionalized memoir), a young angel-faced Jewish boy is hung on the gallows in the center of a concentration camp for the crime of simply being Jewish. Where was God? Wiesel states that God was hanging on the gallows.
The literary reference was to Jesus, and was made for the benefit of the Christian audience who would read his book, but the deeper meaning is that God is with us through every tragedy. God hurts when we hurt. God may not have eyes to weep, but God did not create us to kill and maim and gun down. God is here and there and everywhere. Always was, always is, and always will be. Period. God does not get to step in and save who we want saved, even if it’s small children in Sandy Hook who I wish could have been saved. We can’t understand God. That’s why God is God and we are not.
I cried on Friday. To see weeping children marching with hands on each other’s shoulders, parents screaming and clinging to children my kids’ age, teachers running on the hormones of survival and fear and pain and risking their lives for their flock. I cried bitterly and have felt kicked in the gut since then.
But God cried, too. And God is still crying. Through our pain and through our joy, God is always with us. Our challenge is to be comfortable in God’s silence, and to know that when we have shed all of our tears and are ready to start again, there is a Voice waiting to be heard that is always there.
December 26
Of course, it depends on the cancer…but seriously I have concerns when it is a very rare cancer that may have less than a 5 percent change of survival…what is the point of subjecting a child to such harsh, painful and grueling treatment that strips a child of any quality of life..and to what end…to add a few more months.
I don't know. Lo aleinu to ever have to make these decisions.
December 30
WOW...THIS BOY IS REALLY FORTUNATE TO HAVE THIS MOM...READ THESE TERMS...SO MUCH WISDOM
Dear Gregory
Merry Christmas! You are now the proud owner of an iPhone. Hot Damn! You are a good and responsible 13-year-old boy and you deserve this gift. But with the acceptance of this present comes rules and regulations. Please read through the following contract. I hope that you understand it is my job to raise you into a well rounded, healthy young man that can function in the world and coexist with technology, not be ruled by it. Failure to comply with the following list will result in termination of your iPhone ownership.
I love you madly and look forward to sharing several million text messages with you in the days to come.
1. It is my phone. I bought it. I pay for it. I am loaning it to you. Aren't I the greatest?
2. I will always know the password.
3. If it rings, answer it. It is a phone. Say hello, use your manners. Do not ever ignore a phone call if the screen reads "Mom" or "Dad." Not ever.
4. Hand the phone to one of your parents promptly at 7:30 p.m. every school night and every weekend night at 9:00 p.m. It will be shut off for the night and turned on again at 7:30 a.m. If you would not make a call to someone's land line, wherein their parents may answer first, then do not call or text. Listen to those instincts and respect other families like we would like to be respected.
5. It does not go to school with you. Have a conversation with the people you text in person. It's a life skill. *Half days, field trips and after school activities will require special consideration.
6. If it falls into the toilet, smashes on the ground, or vanishes into thin air, you are responsible for the replacement costs or repairs. Mow a lawn, babysit, stash some birthday money. It will happen, you should be prepared.
7. Do not use this technology to lie, fool, or deceive another human being. Do not involve yourself in conversations that are hurtful to others. Be a good friend first or stay the hell out of the crossfire.
8. Do not text, email, or say anything through this device you would not say in person.
9. Do not text, email, or say anything to someone that you would not say out loud with their parents in the room. Censor yourself.
10. No porn. Search the web for information you would openly share with me. If you have a question about anything, ask a person -- preferably me or your father.
11. Turn it off, silence it, put it away in public. Especially in a restaurant, at the movies, or while speaking with another human being. You are not a rude person; do not allow the iPhone to change that.
12. Do not send or receive pictures of your private parts or anyone else's private parts. Don't laugh. Someday you will be tempted to do this despite your high intelligence. It is risky and could ruin your teenage/college/adult life. It is always a bad idea. Cyberspace is vast and more powerful than you. And it is hard to make anything of this magnitude disappear -- including a bad reputation.
13. Don't take a zillion pictures and videos. There is no need to document everything. Live your experiences. They will be stored in your memory for eternity.
14. Leave your phone home sometimes and feel safe and secure in that decision. It is not alive or an extension of you. Learn to live without it. Be bigger and more powerful than FOMO (fear of missing out).
15. Download music that is new or classic or different than the millions of your peers that listen to the same exact stuff. Your generation has access to music like never before in history. Take advantage of that gift. Expand your horizons.
16. Play a game with words or puzzles or brain teasers every now and then.
17. Keep your eyes up. See the world happening around you. Stare out a window. Listen to the birds. Take a walk. Talk to a stranger. Wonder without googling.
18. You will mess up. I will take away your phone. We will sit down and talk about it. We will start over again. You and I, we are always learning. I am on your team. We are in this together.
It is my hope that you can agree to these terms. Most of the lessons listed here do not just apply to the iPhone, but to life. You are growing up in a fast and ever changing world. It is exciting and enticing. Keep it simple every chance you get. Trust your powerful mind and giant heart above any machine. I love you. I hope you enjoy your awesome new iPhone.
xoxoxo,
Mom
2011
April 1, 2011
A world-renowned psychiatrist considers faith, free-will and the human need for answers ...
Maimonides's position is that it is perfectly proper to have insoluble mysteries. We do not have to have a concrete answer to everything. We must learn to live with mystery, with the unknowable.
The Mystery of Suffering
By Rabbi Abraham J. Twerski
“If a person will have on the skin of his flesh . . . a tzaraas affliction.” — Lev. 13:2
JewishWorldReview.com | The affliction of tzaraas is the only condition which the Torah attributes to a specific sin: Loshon hara(gossip). ''Beware of a tzaraas affliction. Remember what G-d did to Miriam'' (Deuteronomy 24:8-9). This refers to Miriam's unjust criticism of Moses (Numbers 12:10).
Our people have experienced suffering in its many forms, as a nation as well as individually. Every so often, someone suggests a reason for suffering. This is presumptuous, because while there may be various reasons for suffering, they are largely unknown to us.
The question of why things happen has been instrumental in advancing human knowledge. Many scientific discoveries have resulted from man's attempt to understand and explain things. Whether an apple did or did not fall on Isaac Newton's head, something aroused his curiosity as to why things fell to the ground, and so he investigated and formulated the Law of Gravity. Life-saving penicillin was discovered because of Fleming's curiosity as to why there was no bacterial growth around the mold on the petri dish. It is only natural for people to be curious why things happen.
Curiosity is one thing. Obstinacy in insisting that every question must have an answer that we can understand is something else. Perhaps we feel that not being able to find an answer is an insult to our competence. There is nothing wrong with realizing our human limitations. There are many things that are unknown, and even if we see the unknown as a challenge and try to investigate it, we should realize that we may not be able to know everything.
There are things in Judaism about which our knowledge is limited or even nonexistant. For example, we believe that G-d has infinite foresight and knows the future. We also believe that a person has the freedom of choice to do right or wrong. This raises a question that has been discussed by many theologians: If G-d knows what I am going to do tomorrow, how can I have free choice? I cannot do anything other than what G-d knew I was going to do.
Maimonides says that the reason we see this as a conflict is because we equate G-d's knowledge with our own. If we have certain knowledge of what is going to happen, it cannot happen differently. However, G-d's knowledge is totally different than ours, and His knowledge does not conflict with free will. What is G-d's knowledge like? That we cannot possibly know, because G-d's knowledge is inseparable from Him. Just as we cannot have an understanding of G-d, we cannot have an understanding of His knowledge (Hilchos Teshuvah 5:5). Ravad criticizes Maimonides for raising a question to which he cannot give a logical answer. But Maimonides's position is that it is perfectly proper to have insoluble mysteries. We do not have to have a concrete answer to everything. We must learn to live with mystery, with the unknowable.
CONCEDING LIMITATIONS
There are many things that we must accept as facts and proceed from there. For example, when oxygen and hydrogen combine in a specific ratio, they form water. That is a natural phenomenon. Why they form water rather than another compound is unknown. However, we accept this fact and see what useful applications we can derive from this fact.
Throughout history, we have observed the fact that there is suffering in the world. We have sought to explain it, particularly why the innocent suffer and why bad things happen to good people. The theme of the Book of Job is the mystery of the suffering of good people.
The Talmud says that Moses' request of G-d, ''Let me know Your ways'' (Exodus 33:13) was to understand why the righteous suffer, but G-d denied him this knowledge (Berachos 7a). The Talmud says that it was Moses who wrote the Book of Job, wherein several explanations are offered, but all are rebutted.
It would be most presumptuous for us to try to understand something that escaped Moses' understanding.
Yet many of our ethicists have investigated the question of suffering. I believe that they were not in search of an explanation. They obviously did not try to grasp something that was beyond the grasp of Moses. The reason for suffering is known only to G-d. All we can do is try to derive some useful lesson from suffering. While we may not be able to know why there is suffering, we may be able to see how we can benefit from this perplexing phenomenon.
Rabbi Baruch Ber Lebowitz (1870-1940) was engaged in a Torah discussion with Rabbi Chaim of Brisk, and he remarked, ''Why does the Torah say this?'' Rabbi Chaim corrected him.
''We may not ask why the Torah says something. That is G-d's wisdom and is beyond our ability to understand. We can only ask, 'What can we derive from what the Torah says?' ''
Although I profess to have emunah (faith), and when I suffered losses I recited the appropriate blessing, Blessed be the Judge of Truth, I could not avoid feeling that it was an intellectual expression. I was in pain, and I felt otherwise in my heart.
Oh, if G-d would only let me operate the world! All children would be born healthy, without physical or mental defects. There would be no leukemia or cancer. People would be healthy until they reached the end of their allotted time on earth.
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PAIN AND SUFFERING
The Talmud says that the righteous suffer in this world in order to increase their reward in the Eternal World. We find different attitudes toward suffering in the Talmud. Rabbi Eliezer welcomed his suffering, calling his pains ''my friends'' (Bava Metziah 84b). On the other hand, Rabbi Elazar said, ''I do not want the suffering and I do not want its reward'' (Berachos 5b). This was not a rejection of suffering but was in response to the question whether he wished to suffer.
There is a difference between pain and suffering. People who have been given morphine for severe pain, if questioned carefully, may say, ''The sensation is still there, but it doesn't bother me.'' Suffering may be an interpretation of pain rather than a sensation on its own.
Inasmuch as there is no decisive Halachah (Jewish legal ruling) on this issue, I favor the latter position. I have a very low pain threshold, and I find even a toothache intolerable. I am not even interested in knowing why my tooth hurts. That is for the dentist to know. I just want relief.
As a psychiatrist, people come to me with their problems, some of which are heart-rending. I am happy when I can do something to relieve their distress, but I am most frustrated when I am powerless to do so. I suffer along with them, and as you may surmise, I do not handle suffering well.
Sometimes I identify with my great-grandfather, Rebbe Motele of Hornosteipel. He was a chassidic rebbe to whom many people came to unburden themselves of their misery. One day, after absorbing many tales of woe from the people who sought his blessing to extricate them from their plights, he abruptly tore open his shirt, bared his chest and exclaimed, ''Master of the universe! Look into my heart. I cannot take any more.''
Ah! But I am not Rebbe Motele. He genuinely cared for others. I care for myself.
In my last year of medical school, I received a call late one night from a hospital, because a patient requested a rabbi. I found a distraught women standing over an incubator. Her infant had been born with what was at that time an irreparable heart defect. Her baby was going to die.Tearfully, she turned toward me and said, ''Why, rabbi, why?'' I stood there in utter silence, crying along with her. I said a brief prayer with her and left. The words of Moses came to my mind, when he complained to G-d that his efforts to have Pharaoh free the Israelites resulted in aggravating their suffering. ''Why did You do evil to this people? Why did You send me?'' (Exodus 5:22). If Moses could complain, so may we.
The following morning I told my father about this experience. He said, ''Was your frustration due to the woman's pain, or because you were unable to help her?'' He was right. One of the reasons I had left the rabbinate for medicine was because I felt I could do more for people as a doctor than as a rabbi. Now I was both, and in spite of having the tools of the two greatest healing professions, I was totally impotent. I could not handle the assault to my ego. I am sure that Moses and Rebbe Motele genuinely cared for others and shared their pain, whereas I was caring primarily for myself and was nursing my wounded ego.
April 1, 2011
“ Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up. ” — Pablo Picasso
April 5, 2011
An ethical person ought to do more than he's required to do and less than he's allowed to do. — Michael Josephson
April 6, 2011
We should certainly be level-headed --- but with the heights, not the depths.
— Rabbi Shraga Silverstein
April 11, 2011
A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery while on a detour.
— Unknown
May 3, 2011
It all changes in an instant...I no longer try to be right...I try to be happy.
May 9, 2011
To all the soldiers out there who risk their lives daily protecting me and my family and especially to those who made the ultimate sacrifice. Your commitment to the Jewish people humbles me. Your willingness to care about, and fight for my basic rights and dignity, despite our differences is both inspiring and appreciated.
Thank you. יהי זכרם ברוך
May 18, 2011
"At least we can all agree that the ingathering of the exiles is all part of G-d's plan. What happens next seems to be in dispute"
May 18, 2011
Dennis Prager, National Review Online
I assume that the type of person who reads columns such as this one has wondered at one time or another why, for thousands of years, there has been so much attention paid to Jews; and why, today, so much attention is paid to Israel, the lone Jewish state.How do most people explain this preoccupation? There is no fully rational explanation for the amount of attention paid to the Jews and the Jewish state. And there is no fully rational explanation for the amount of hatred directed at them.
A lifetime of study of this issue, including writing (with Rabbi Joseph Telushkin) a book on antisemitism (Why the Jews? The Reason for Antisemitism) has convinced me that, along with all the rational explanations, there is one explanation that transcends reason alone.
It is that the Jews are God’s chosen people.
Now, believe me, dear reader, I am well aware of the hazards of making such a claim. It sounds chauvinistic. It sounds racist. And it sounds irrational, if not bizarre.
But it is none of these.
As regards chauvinism, there is not a hint of inherent superiority in the claim of Jewish chosenness. In fact, the Jewish Bible, the book that states the Jews are chosen, constantly berates the Jews for their flawed moral behavior. No bible of any other religion is so critical of the religious group affiliated with that bible as the Hebrew Scriptures are of the Jews.
As for racism, Jewish chosenness cannot be racist by definition. Here is why: a) The Jews are not a race; there are Jews of every race. And b) any person of any race, ethnicity, or nationality can become a member of the Jewish people and thereby be as chosen as Abraham, Moses, Jeremiah or the chief rabbi of Israel.
And with regard to chosenness being an irrational or even bizarre claim, it must be so only to atheists. They don’t believe in a Chooser, so they cannot believe in a Chosen. But for most believing Jews and Christians (most particularly the Founders who saw America as a Second Israel, a second Chosen People), Jewish Chosenness has been a given. And even the atheist must look at the evidence and conclude that the Jews play a role in history that defies reason.
Can reason alone explain how a hodgepodge of ex-slaves was able to change history — to introduce the moral God-Creator we know as God, to devise ethical monotheism; to write the world’s most influential book, the Bible; to be the only civilization to deny the cyclical worldview and give humanity belief in a linear (i.e., purposeful) history; to provide morality-driven prophets; and so much more — without God playing the decisive role in this people’s history?
Without the Jews, there would be no Christianity (a fact acknowledged by the great majority of Christians); and no Islam (a fact acknowledged by almost no Muslims). Read Thomas Cahill’s “The Gifts of the Jews” or Paul Johnson’s “History of the Jews” to get an idea about how much this people changed history.
What further renders the claim for Jewish chosenness worthy of rational consideration is that virtually every other nation has perceived itself as chosen or otherwise divinely special. For example, China means “Middle Kingdom” in Chinese – meaning that China is at the center of the world; and Japan considers itself the land where the sun originates (“Land of the Rising Sun”). The difference between Jewish chosenness and other nations’ similar claims is that no one cares about any other group considering itself Chosen, while vast numbers of non-Jews have either believed the Jews’ claim or have hated the Jews for it.
May 20, 2011
Adversity introduces man to himself. — Unknown
May 23, 2011
Most of the things worth doing in the world had been declared impossible before they were done. — Louis D. Brandeis
May 26, 2011
“Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means that you've decided to look beyond the imperfections.” ~ Author Unknown
June 19, 2011 via BlackBerry Smartphones App
Sorry felt the need to share one more time... This touched me…
For those of us whose DAD is no longer here... If roses grow in heaven lord, then pick a bunch for me. Place them in my Dad's arms and tell him they're from me. Tell him that I love and miss him, and when he turns to smile, place a kiss upon his cheek and hold him for awhile. Happy Father's Day, Dad! I love and miss you with all
June 24, 2011
"Zayde always kept a smile"... Good Shabbos everyone
June 24, 2011
Korah: The Spiritual Narcissist
the algemeiner
by Rabbi Schmuley Boteach
This week’s Torah reading deals with the rebellion of Korach, a cousin of Moses, who contends that he is just as deserving of leadership as the great lawgiver. Korach claims that Moses has usurped power for reasons of self-aggrandizement. Moses, whom the Bible declares to be the most humble man on the earth, acts out of character, becoming visibly angry, and says to G-d, “”Do not accept their offering. I have not taken a donkey from a single one of them, and I have not harmed a single one of them.” Moses is declaring that he never acted out of reasons of ego. That which he did, in setting up the Jewish leadership structure, was at G-d’s command. Ultimately, things do not fare well for Korach and his cohort. They are swallowed by the earth, never to be heard from again.
Korach is like a lot of people who practice religion. He wishes to be close to G-d, he wishes to be elevated above the rest of the people. But his motivation is for G-d to do something for him. He wants religion to fill the emptiness of his life, he wants it to help him grow. Korach loves G-d and wants to draw close to him. He is upset that Moses is closer. But whereas Moses serves G-d by His command, Korach’s desire is to fill an inner emptiness and void. Lacking meaning and purpose in life, he turns to G-d to fill in the space.
Real religion is God-centric. God is supposed to be at the apex of our lives, our every action revolving around His will. I reject utterly this superficial notion that religions is designed to help us grow. We are not plants. If you want to grow eat your Wheaties. To the contrary, religion and G-d’s will are to be obeyed even if it at times bores you. You don’t get married to grow as a person. Doing so would be entering into a relationship to use your spouse for your own spiritual objectives. You get married because you have love to offer and you want to make someone happy.
But Korach represents the man or woman who comes to Church or Synagogue seeking the opposite. They want God to cater to their needs. They want the Synagogue service to give them the same good vibes as a Bruce Springsteen concert. Theirs is a man-centered religion. Religion is supposed to move them, enlighten them, and make them grow. Religion exists to refine their characters. They draw closer to G-d for their own purposes, however noble.
I often tell my Christian friends that they can learn much from Judaism about the correct way to understand Christianity. The classic Christian understanding of the death of their savior is that he laid down his life for humans in order to atone for their sin. This reflects the thought conveyed above. G-d exists for the benefit of the people. He dies so that the people can be saved and it’s all about them. But the quintessential symbol of Judaism is precisely the opposite. Abraham is prepared to sacrifice his son Isaac at G-d’s command. Humans exist to perform the divine will, whatever the consequences. We are here for G-d, not the reverse.
Korach is the archetype of all those who go to Synagogue in order to find spiritual uplift, who go to Church to feel inspired, who practice Buddhism to find enlightenment. And should any of these religions fail to deliver, they become lapsed because the religion’s purpose, from their perspective, is self-edification.
This is a selfish mindset that simply extends human narcissism into the spiritual realm. It is this obsession with self which has wrought so much havoc on the modern world. In essence it is the mindset of the consumer. Everything exists for his benefit. Like Pacman, he devours everything in his midst, including G-d himself. It is the mind of utilitarian who sees personal utility in all that he encounters
Hence, the punishment for Korach and his followers is unlike any found anywhere else in the Bible. He is swallowed by the earth, never to be heard from again. His end reflects his very essence. In his life he was a black hole, sucking the oxygen out of all that he encountered. His death reflected this same insatiability. An earth that he had plundered for his own purposes gulped him down in one swish, never to be heard from again.
August 8, 2011
31 lost, 31 unwanted visits, 31 doors receive that dreaded knock, 31 families with shattered hearts, 31 pairs of boots lined up with rifles and dog tags and helmets, 31 comrades remembered and grieved for, 31 funeral services, 31 names on newly made grave markers, 31 empty places at the table, 31 souls who gave all, whose lives leave a void, so let's take 31 seconds to re-post this and pause to reflect on such a sacrifice as 31 gone forever.
October 16, 2011
Mazal Tov! It's a boy for Dovid and Shana!
October 19, 2011
Those on the weekly system of reading psalms read chapters 51-72 today, and in chapter 60 the word "Gilead" appears in the sentence following the word Sukkos. [Gilad Shalit was freed today, Tuesday, during the Sukkos holiday]
November 17, 2011
You cannot pour happiness on others without getting a few drops on yourself. - Ralph Waldo Emerson
November 17, 2011
So moving and worth reading…
metroimma.com
Nov. 10, 2011
One Mother's Last Day Alive by Chana Jenny Weisberg
“I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: ‘If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?’ And whenever the answer has been ‘No’ for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.”
This now famous quotation from Steve Jobs has been haunting me ever since I heard it on the day he died last month.
And I was reminded of it yet again when I read about the days leading up to the death of my friend, 44-year-old JewishMOM Rivka Matitya of Coffee and Chemo last year.
Rachel Bachrach wrote for Mishpacha Magazine this past week, “Last October, Mrs. Matitya was hospitalized in Shaare Zedek Medical Center in severe pain. She asked to speak to each of her children individually because she saw her condition was deteriorating rapidly.
“Mr. Matitya first brought their oldest daughter. When they came into the room, Mrs. Matitya, who wasn’t really able to sit anymore, gathered her strength and pulled herself up for the conversation. For more than an hour, she spoke to her 16-year-old daughter, who listened and cried.
“All the things she had in mind to say to her daughter, not just for now, but for the coming years, it was all compressed into that hour,’ remembers Mr. Matitya, who sat on the side, watching his wife saying goodbye.
“The conversation was so important to Mrs. Matitya that she didn’t want any distractions. Her husband noticed that even though she had been pressing the morphine button every 15 seconds prior to the conversation, she didn’t touch it while she was talking, despite the excruciating pain.
“The next day, Mrs. Matitya spoke to her 14-year-old son. The day after that, Mrs. Matitya brough their 12-year-old into the room. Mrs. Matitya was slipping in and out of lucidity, and as the hours passed, it became clear she wouldn’t be able to converse. Their daughter turned to her father and said, “Abba, Ima is never going to talk to me again, is she?”
“Over the next few days, Mrs. Matitya deteriorated to the point that she couldn’t communicate, but that weekend, she came out of it. A friend immediately took their youngest daughter out of class and brought her to the hospital, where Mrs. Matitya spoke to her privately for the last time.
“A few days later, at the age of 44, Mrs. Matitya passed away.'
Last night I took my 9-year-old daughter Maayan out all on her own to buy some burekas and eat them while watching the new sputtering Davidka fountain.
I had so many things I wanted to ask Maayan and discuss with her, And Maayan talked and talked, so pleased to suddenly have her eema’s attention ALL to herself.
As we sat there, thoroughly enjoying ourselves, I realized that I could not remember the last time I had granted Maayan my total undistracted, undivided attention…
And it surprised me, scared me even, to see how quickly my child could become a stranger, if I didn’t make the effort to reach out and listen to her.
On our way home, I asked myself the question I’ve been asking myself so often recently, “If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am doing today?”
And with Maayan’s hand squeezed into mine, I knew the answer.
November 17, 2011
“Better a morsel of dry bread and tranquility with it, then a house full of feasting
with strife” (Proverbs 17:1).
November 18, 2011
"If you have a positive attitude toward events of your life, even though to an outside observer your life might seem full of suffering, you nevertheless will live a happy life. What to others might seem misfortunes, you can view as opportunities for spiritual growth".
Ohr Hanefesh
November 18, 2011
THE BLESS EXPRESS: The Bible gives us a way to bless each other.
“May God bless you and guard you.
May He cause His face to shine upon you and sanctify you.
May He raise His countenance upon you and give you peace.”
What a powerful blessing to receive every day. It is also the blessing that parents give to their children on Friday nights. If your children are blessed, then you are surely blessed.
November 20, 2011
My Long Road Home
My path to Judaism began with the question: What would Jesus do?
by Yehudah Ilan, wish.com
I grew up in a nominally Christian household in Minneapolis. When I was nine years old, my father decided to become more devout. We became very active in the local church and I was exposed to the Bible in a way that went beyond the basic stories I had been told as a small child. I began to read and contemplate both the Old and New Testaments in depth.
As I got deeper into my study of the Bible, I wanted to understand religious thought in a systematic way. To my young mind, it seemed reasonable that since God is perfect, and if the Bible is the word of God, then the Bible must also be perfect – as a holistic system that is rational and verifiable.
Within a few years, I had the majority of the English Bible committed to memory. However, I began to discover contradictions. For example, the Jewish Bible says that God's commandments will never change (Deut. 4:2) and that the Jewish people will never lose their status as a nation (Jeremiah 31:35-36), yet the New Testament says that God created a new “Israel” out of Christians and canceled the Torah. I found many other similar difficulties between the text of the Jewish Bible and the New Testament, and this bothered me, but I figured that with time, these issues would become resolved.
I became very involved with my youth group and found myself spending a lot of time at church, in youth Bible studies, and reading any books I could get my hands on at the church library in an effort to further understand the Bible. I would wake up in the morning thinking about the Bible, and would constantly consider its meaning throughout the day.
By age 16 I was giving sermons at our church and filling in for the pastor when he was out of town. By then I had decided that being a minister is what I wanted to do with my life.
On Friday night, I was reading the Bible, with religious music playing.Although I liked rock music and spending time with friends like other American teenagers, I was not so socially active like other young people my age. I remember one Friday night – I was in my bedroom, reading the Bible, with religious music playing. My mother walked by my door and said, “Aren't there any kids you could go hang out with? Maybe some friends that you could go out with?”
We had a local Christian bookstore, in the style of Barnes & Noble, where I would sit for hours immersed in the books. I got heavily into Christian commentaries on the Bible. I became frustrated, however, that these commentaries weren’t going deep enough, nor providing sources for their assertions. In addition, they offered very little historical information or background. Outside of a few points of relatively minor information about the clothing or the pottery used in that time period, these commentaries lacked the deeper meaning that I was seeking.
After high school, I went to a Bible school associated with my church's denomination. There were about 250 kids, mostly from the Midwest, but also from places like Norway and Nigeria. After several weeks of doctrine classes – which relate basic beliefs and dogmas of the Christian religion – I quickly realized that I did not believe much of what was being taught, as I had already come to separate conclusions through studying the Bible on my own. When I began to challenge my teachers and ask pointed questions, I was given non-answers and told that the classroom was not the place for such discussion.
Being largely disillusioned with the school, I began to skip the majority of my classes and spent most of the time in the attached seminary library (in Christian circles, seminaries are pastoral training colleges) researching questions on my own. Many times, I would check out literally stacks of books on a particular subject, then go back to my dorm room and consume the information.
At this point, I took a decidedly more rational approach to Christian practices. For example, instead of believing that Baptism actually conferred eternal life, I understood it as merely a symbol. Also the whole idea of the Eucharist, where the body and blood of Jesus “mystically” inhabit the communion wine and wafers, just didn't sit right with me. I opted to understand these – and many other rites and beliefs in Christianity – as mere symbols.
It was then that I discovered a Christian belief called Five Point Calvinism – a philosophy that claims to weave all parts of Christianity together into an internally consistent, logical system. Unlike most Christian philosophies which reject Jewish law, this theology seemed more consistent in maintaining that the Ten Commandments still apply. But then this led to more questions because of that “pesky” fourth commandment – “Keep the Sabbath” – which clearly refers to Saturday, the seventh day of creation. The Church changed it to Sunday. So where’s the consistency in that? I thought.
Another thing bothered me: When I looked into attending the seminary of my denomination, I found out that nobody was seriously required to learn Hebrew. They were required to take one semester which teaches the Hebrew letters and how to look up words in a concordance. But if the majority of their Bible was written in Hebrew, it didn't make sense that nobody was reading the original language.
Throughout my year at Bible school, I answered many of my questions and asked many more. Several issues, however, stuck out in the back of my mind, and figured that as I learned more the answers would eventually come.
But they never did.
Jewish Roots
The best part about Bible school is that I met my wife, and we got married at age 19. She shared many of my religious perspectives, as well as many of my questions and concerns.
We set out to find a home congregation as a new married couple and our singular goal was to find truth. We wanted an authentic religious experience, where the difficult theological ideas were not being whitewashed away.
We tried out dozens of churches and found most of them to be feel-good, but not serious. I recall one that advertised: “Study The Book of Joshua With Us” That’s exactly what I was looking for! I showed up on Sunday morning ready to study – with my Greek Bible, my interlinear Hebrew Bible, and a stack of notebooks and pens. The Book of Joshua begins with the Jews crossing the Jordan River into Israel, and at the first class the pastor stood up and said, “We all have crossover moments in our lives.” Ughh! I thought. Here I am, looking for deep textual study, and he’s going on and on like Dr. Phil. My wife and I got out of there.
Many times, after leaving a church we found to be disappointing, we would go to a local bagel shop and study the Bible together over a bagel and a shmear – a fact that we find today to be an ironic foreshadowing of our eventual conversion.
We wound up settling in with a congregation where I became the youth director. Soon after, the minister had to step down due to health issues and I was asked to fill the position. So at age 21, I became minister of my own congregation.
I needed to prepare an Easter sermon, and I wanted something a bit out of the box. I had a book called Christ and Passover (ironically published by the missionary organization Jews for Jesus). The book explained how the majority of early Christians had been Jewish, and how until the fourth century all Christians celebrated Passover (at which time the Council of Nicea changed the name to Easter and moved the date to the Roman calendar).
Since Jesus put on tefillin every day, I started putting on tefillin.This was my first exposure to the idea that Christianity was rooted in Jewish practice. I had always been taught that Jesus himself had formulated Christian theology. But in fact, the majority of Christian doctrine and practice was developed centuries later. When I found this out, I became angry and said to my wife: “We’ve been lied to.”
We didn’t know much about Passover, but we decided: If this is what the original Christians did, and this is what Jesus did, then from now on this is what we’re going to do, too.
The next day I went to a supermarket to buy matzah, and went to a Judaica store near my job to buy a Haggadah and a beautiful Seder plate (which we still use today).
The more I studied early Christian history, the more I found one recurring theme: an attempt by Christian leaders to rid the religion of anything Jewish. This bothered me tremendously. To me, Jesus was the original. Whatever he did, that’s what we’re supposed to do.
Since Jesus put on tefillin every day, I started putting on tefillin. Jesus did not eat shellfish, so I stopped eating shellfish. Jesus knew Hebrew and Aramaic, so I learned Hebrew and Aramaic. The more that I studied the New Testament from a historical perspective, especially the elements of the life of Jesus, the more Judaism I began to practice and the more Christianity I began to doubt or reject.
We were living in mid-central Minnesota in the boondocks, with no Jews for miles, and I would walk around town wearing a kippah and tzitzit. We built a kosher sukkah in our back lot and lit a Chanukah menorah in the front window.
Around this time I rejected the concept of God being a trinity. It became clear to me logically and philosophically that God is One. That was a huge milestone in my journey, because I’d been taught as a child that if you don’t believe in Jesus as a deity, you are condemned to burn in Hell forever. Getting past the psychological effects of that dogma can be difficult.
Slowly, slowly, we were phasing out Christianity. At each stage, as I dropped another of my Christian beliefs, I would take a step back and ask: Where do I now fit into the structured religious world? I knew I was on a path, but who shared my vision?
We discovered that the vast majority of the Messianic movement was a fraud.After formally leaving Christianity proper, we began trying various Messianic congregations in an attempt to find others like us, but were quickly disappointed. In fact, we discovered that the vast majority of the movement was a fraud. They dress up like Jews, apply Hebrew terminology to Christian symbols, and even sprinkle in some Yiddish phrases to give it “Jewish” flavor. But it’s really a front to trick Jews into becoming Christians.
We tried one Messianic congregation that referred to itself as a “Sabbath Fellowship” and found a lot of positive there. Many were sincere seekers – they met on Saturday, they tried to understand Christianity from a Jewish perspective, they didn’t missionize Jews, they valued rabbis.
Several like-minded families eventually decided to begin their own community by all moving into the same neighborhood and meeting for prayers in someone's home. We joined them. The holistic, verifiable system that my 9-year-old mind had intuited was gaining expression in our Hebrew prayers, celebrating the Jewish holidays, and observance of Shabbat (saying Kiddush, not turning on lights, not driving, not carrying, etc.). Almost unintentionally, we had slowly drifted toward traditional Judaism.
If you follow all religions back to their historical source, you end up in one of two places: either ancient polytheism, or in Judeo monotheism. The revelation at Mount Sinai turned the world to monotheism, because it is a verifiable historical event that all subsequent monotheistic religions are compelled to accept. So in my quest for authenticity, it's only natural that I would be drawn to the original source.
Further, I was amazed to discover that the Talmud - the main repository of Jewish discourse - is characterized by hair-splitting analysis to ensure that the Torah system is 100 percent accurate and consistent.
In the meantime, we maintained a real respect for this historical person named Jesus, who had an Orthodox Jewish upbringing and inspired a whole movement. So although my religious beliefs did not resemble what had developed into modern-day Christianity, completely rejecting Jesus was a very big step that we did not feel ready to take.
Although the idea of becoming Jewish was somewhere in the back of my mind, we didn’t even speak with a rabbi until seven years into this process. After such a long journey, not fitting into so many places, we developed a sensitivity to rejection. Subconsciously I avoided meeting with any rabbi because deep down I knew that Judaism was the only place we’d eventually fit in. If they’d reject us, where else would we go?
On to Milwaukee
Around this time I got a job managing a warehouse for a chassidic man in St. Paul, Minnesota. He told me that my religious observances – only kosher food, observing Shabbat, kippah and tzitzit, etc. – was inappropriate for a non-Jew, and even somewhat arrogant. “You were born a non-Jew and who are you to second-guess God?” he said. He suggested that instead I observe the Seven Noahide Laws that Judaism prescribes for non-Jews.
I loved the Torah and the Jewish way of life very much – our whole family did – but the last thing I wanted to be was arrogant. I was on a mission for truth, after all! I reasoned that since I was only practicing Judaism because I thought that’s what Jesus did, then maybe being a Noahide was the answer to my internal conflict.
I took this man’s words to heart and began to divest all my Jewish affectations. We took down our mezuzahs, gave away many of our Jewish books, stopped wearing kippot and tzitzit, and I gave my tefillin away to a Jew.
Emotionally this was very difficult. I had been so invigorated with my Jewish expression, so to have it all come to a grinding halt was quite traumatic. But I was willing to give this a try.
Although I had given away all my Jewish stuff, I kept one old pair of tzitzit in the back of the closet. One day I went into the closet, picked up the tzitzit and began to cry. I had fully rejected Jesus, and I yearned to be Torah observant – but how could I do so as a non-Jew?
All this came to a head a few months later at Chanukah time. My family was sitting around the living room, trying to enjoy the holiday as much as this group of non-Jews could. My wife made latkes to try to infuse some spirit of celebration. But this was simply not enough. I stood up and announced: “We will not live like this any longer. We’re becoming Jewish!”
Our kids were so excited, they started cheering. We put the mezuzahs back on the doors, bought new sets of dishes, and I got another pair of tefillin.
We needed to begin the conversion process, but where?We were determined to become Jewish but did not know exactly what move to make, so we moved to a small community in Wisconsin and I got a job nearby. At this time we were living in a totally non-Jewish area – no synagogue, nothing. I knew that we needed to make a move, to find a Jewish community and begin the conversion process. But where should we go?
One day we were at the grocery store and my wife noticed a black man standing on the other side of the store –– dressed as an Orthodox Jew. I immediately went over and introduced myself. He said he’s from Milwaukee, a former police officer who had once responded to a call at the synagogue where he met Rabbi Michel Twerski. This sparked an interest that led to his conversion.
When I told him about my desire to convert, he encouraged me to go straight to Milwaukee: “Just show up and don’t worry if they try to push you away.”
So after making an appointment with the Milwaukee Beit Din, we drove to Milwaukee one Friday, with no place to stay and knowing nobody. We went to the kosher grocery store to buy food, and the owner of the store graciously invited us to spend Shabbat at his home.
Shabbat was awesome, and the next day, Sunday, we met with the Beit Din. They checked us out very carefully, to make sure we weren’t some kind of secret missionaries with an agenda. There is unfortunately some of that going on, and I apparently aroused suspicion having come in knowing so much halacha, Midrash, Maimonides, etc.
Thankfully, we were accepted as conversion candidates. We immediately found an apartment to rent, and within three weeks pulled into Milwaukee with all our worldly possessions in tow.
A few months later, we were all dunking in the mikveh, emerging as Jews.
We spent two years in Milwaukee and I had the opportunity to get involved in counter-missionary work. But then we realized – we’ve come this far in our path, why stop here? Let’s take it to the ultimate and move to Israel. So we did that in the summer of 2011 and we love it. The kids enjoy the freedom to go around town by themselves and feel safe. After such a long, long road, we are truly home.
Maimonides writes in Guide to the Perplexed that it’s very difficult to change one’s life course in a direct way. That explains why God led the Jewish people out of Egypt in a roundabout route; otherwise they’d have been discouraged and wanted to go back (Exodus 13:17). So too, God led me on a very roundabout way. Some converts have a very short process of discovering Judaism and changing their life. For me, it was years of gradually phasing out Christianity and phasing in Judaism.
I didn’t choose Judaism out of any dogma – “do this or else!” – but rather out of education and rational thought. I’d like to think this is growing trend and that the days of dogma are over. In the Dark Ages, information could be suppressed. But now with Google, the truth is out there for anyone who wants it.
November 21, 2011
Jerusalem Post:
The human spirit: Riding through the long night11/18/2011 17:47 By BARBARA SOFER
Yarden Frankl and his wife Stella focus on how good the present can be, regardless of what life throws at them.
I’m talking to Yarden Frankl on the cellphone and watching his progress on Facebook while he’s biking in the dark through Gush Etzion on to the Western Wall and back again. But it’s not the technology that’s so thrilling. I’m moved by the love and devotion of this man for his wife.
He’s riding until dawn. Night, he says, is the worst time for him ever since he and Stella received their dire news.
They met 26 years ago in college, undergraduates at prestigious, bucolic Colgate University in upstate New York. He was Jewish, she was Japanese. He was majoring in African Studies, she was majoring in Asian Studies. They belonged to the same coed fraternity. By senior year, they were engaged. A justice of the peace presided at their wedding.
“My parents didn’t mind. We weren’t too religious at home,” he says. “They loved Stella.”
Her parents didn’t mind, either, she says. They weren’t religious. They’d immigrated from Japan to follow the American dream, which included blending in. They run a Japanese steak house and own a winter home in Florida. Stella liked Yarden’s ethnic identity. He ate bagels on Sundays, and his family made a Passover Seder.
When the first children were born, they were living near Washington, DC. Stella felt something was missing. Tradition, she called it. She began exploring Judaism.
“She dragged me along,” says her husband, adding that he’d never pressured her to convert. She surprised him one day by declaring her intention to do just that. Her nurturing Conservative rabbi insisted Yarden attend classes, too.
“There was a lot I didn’t know,” he says.
As they became active in the Jewish community, they met Orthodox friends and decided to become Shabbat-observant and stricter on kashrut. Stella undertook an Orthodox conversion. That meant the children also needed to convert again, and that she and her husband needed to have another wedding, this time with an Orthodox rabbi.
“It wasn’t such a big leap at this point,” says Yarden.
“A friend who had become religious took me through a lot of it and taught me to make cholent,” she says. She’s an enthusiastic cook. The recipes her Shabbat guests most frequently request are sesame chicken and Won Ton chicken – Chinese, she points out, not Japanese.
They visited Israel and decided on aliya. “We felt that Israel was the best place to bring up our children as Jews,” she says. “And it would be a chance for spiritual growth for us.”
Yarden got a job as a Special Projects coordinator for HonestReporting. Stella works for the WebYeshiva, as a dental assistant and as a caregiver for the elderly. They have four children and live in Neve Daniel, a mostly modern-Orthodox community in Gush Etzion. Close friends had moved there before them, and they liked the people and community-based lifestyle.
Both sets of parents had adjusted to Shabbat and the dietary laws. Having them move to Israel was harder. Her parents declared that they wouldn’t come to visit, but would send for them in the summers so they could know their grandkids.
Last summer, they were packed to go on one of those family trips to the US. Stella, 44, had been suffering from a stomach ache. Her family doctor didn’t think she had anything serious. Nonetheless, they turned to a hospital emergency room before getting on the plane. Instead of reassurance, tests revealed the unbelievable: Energetic, outgoing Stella, who walked the dog and did spinning twice a week, had advanced stomach cancer. It was inoperable.
Their lives changed overnight as she began chemotherapy. Wrote her husband in his blog, which he calls “Crossing the Yarden”: “I have lain awake countless times at around two or three in the morning, when my strength is gone and keeping the nightmares at bay is just too much.
“Eventually, I give up on trying to get back to sleep and just ‘long for the dawn’ as the Psalm (Tehillim 130) says.
“On both a literal and figurative level, the battle with cancer is like one long night.
“You long for the sun to come up because usually you feel a little more in control when the sun is shining.
“You feel a little bit more hope with each new dawn. When Stella is up and we talk, I feel a bit more of a sense of normalcy and can often push the nightmares back into the box where they hide out.
“But getting through the night gets harder and harder.
“And I am getting really tired.
“I’m tired of feeling helpless while Stella fights her courageous battle with the cancer that has turned our lives upside down. Demonstrating love and support and comfort are a given. Of course I do that as much as I can. But I need to do more.”
“More” meant riding 12 hours through the night, a week ago Thursday. He would raise money for the Gush Etzion sick fund to help families meet medical expenses.
He knew he’d be tired and aching by 3 a.m. “Stella has chemo every three weeks. Maybe, maybe, I can feel a fraction of the pain she is going through and can come up with better words of encouragement to support her in her struggle. Or maybe I can’t, and it’s just some way I can focus on something where my own effort will do some good.”
The months of chemotherapy, prayers and support have improved her prognosis, she says.
“I’m hopeful and optimistic and living my life,” she asserts. The week of the chemo is enervating, but then she snaps back. She’s swapped yoga for spinning.
The Neve Daniel community came out to see him off. Young bikers did a first lap with him. His lone ride picked up speed on the Internet, and folks like me were following him from around the world.
“Colleagues in China are intrigued by this overnight bike ride,” wrote one follower on Facebook.
“We just took a family walk in the cold, wet, dark Potomac in solidarity,” wrote another from Washington.
Fueled by Stella’s banana bread, Yarden biked 231 kilometers in 12 hours. Pledges, still coming up, have totaled more than NIS 80,000.
But who could guess such a ride would be romantic?
Wrote Yarden to someone who apologized for not being fit enough to join him riding up the Judaean hills: “Stella and I would like nothing more than for all those who have been following our situation to go take a walk on the night of the ride. It makes no difference if you live in Neve Daniel, Maryland, Oklahoma, Ireland, or wherever. Go out for a walk with your spouse, child, friend, or anyone you love. Don’t talk about work, errands, elections, or so forth. Just focus on how amazing it is to love someone and be loved. Don’t think about the future or the past, for this walk – just focus on how good the present can be.
None of us knows what tomorrow may bring. So let’s take advantage of what we have. Leave the pedaling to me.”
Yarden's blog is www.crossingtheyarden.com. Stella’s Hebrew name is Tzuriya Kochevet Bat Sarah.
The author is a Jerusalem writer who focuses on the wondrous stories of modern Israel. She serves as the Israel Director of Public Relations for Hadassah, the Women’s Zionist Organization of America. The views in her columns are her own
November 21, 2011
Another bundle of joy has arrived...
Mazal Tov Nomi and Pin!!
December 12, 2011
We tell ourselves that religion and reason are incompatible, but in fact the opposite is the case.
December 12, 2011
Receiving Israel’s 10th Nobel Prize on Saturday night for his discovery of quasicrystal patterns of atoms, Technion- Institute of Technology Prof. Dan Shechtman noted that “science is the ultimate tool to reveal the laws of nature, and the one word written on its banner is “truth.” “The laws of nature are neither good nor bad. It is the way in which we apply them to our world that makes the difference,” he said.
December 13, 2011
In case you were wondering....This world is a place of challenge and attainment. The greater the challenge, the greater the attainment.
Difference Between Judaism and Buddhism
SimpletoRemember.com Judaism online (no byline)
Many Jews turn to Buddhism to rise to spiritual heights. Judaism says, “Take the whole world up with you.”For 17 years, I meditated, usually three times a day. My goal was to attain a state of elevated consciousness which the Hindus call samadhi—the experience of the total oneness underlying the apparent multiplicity of this world.
Sri Ramakrishna, the head of my ashram’s lineage of gurus, used to say that the mind is like a pond. Because of the many ripples (thought forms), the surface of the pond cannot accurately reflect the sun of Truth. When the pond, or mind, is perfectly still (in mediation), the sun, or Truth, is perfectly reflected.
Once, during my 11th year of living at the ashram, a Hindu-style spiritual retreat, I actually experienced that transcendental state. Conducting the community’s group meditation in the shrine room, I felt my consciousness rise out of my body. I left the world of time and space behind, and entered into a state of Total Oneness.
I was not aware that over an hour passed in that state, or that the other members of the community had tip-toed out of the shrine room to begin their morning duties. When I finally, with great difficulty, managed to “come down” and open my eyes, it took me another fifteen minutes just to reorient my mind to this world of form and motion.
The ritual worship over, I left the shrine, took off my chuddar (prayer shawl), and was engaged in folding it, when Sister Baroda approached me. I was the schedule maker, and she asked if she could switch her cooking day with someone else in the community. Up to that point, I felt like I had been descending to earth gradually, as with a wind-filled parachute, but suddenly, Sister Baroda poked a gaping hole in my parachute. I landed with a thud, and yelled at her for disturbing my rapture. Then I angrily stalked off to my room to escape the garrulous group of ashram members chatting frivolously over breakfast.
BHU-JEWSA large number of Jews currently practice Buddhism. Rodger Kamenetz, the author of The Jew in the Lotus, says, “A third of all Western Buddhist leaders come from Jewish roots.” Half of the participants in the Vipassana meditation retreat near Dharamsala, India, are Israelis. According to one estimate, three out of four Western visitors to the spiritual center of Tibetan Buddhism and the seat of the Dalai Lama are Jewish. Most of the street signs in Dharamsala sport Hebrew letters.
A recent cover story of the Jerusalem Report profiles three Jews who have been living in Dharamsala for years:
- Venerable Tenzin Josh, formerly Steven Gluck of London
- Ruth Sonam, formerly Ruth Berliner of Northern Ireland; and
- tamar Sofer, an Israeli who fled the pressure of army service in Gaza to find peace in the Himalayas.
But he is wrong. In fact, Buddhism is—in its essence and purpose—the diametric opposite of Judaism.
The Four Noble Truths, which comprise the foundation of Buddhism, are:
- This world is suffering
- The cause of suffering is desire.
- The cessation of suffering is the cessation of desire.
- The cessation of desire is achieved through practicing the Noble Eight-fold Path, which includes right speech, right action, right livelihood, etc.
As Tenzin Josh asserted in explaining his personal transition from a punk lifestyle in London to becoming a Buddhist monk: “Whether a punk nihilist or a Buddhist hermit, you just don’t see a point in life and want to find a way out.”
Israeli Itamar Sofer similarly explained his post-army flight to India: “What hope is there when your whole life is one ceaseless fight for personal and national survival? I just wanted to run away and find some space for myself.”
RELIGIONS OF HEAVEN, A RELIGION OF EARTHJudaism, by contrast, is a path of total engagement with this world.
The 613 commandments of the Torah are prescriptions for how to engage every part of one’s body and every component of the physical world in consecrated action. Even a “mental” or “emotional” commandment, such as “Love your neighbor as yourself,” has specific, physical stipulations, namely: Concern yourself with your neighbor’s physical welfare, show him honor, speak well of her.
The Talmud, that vast, 63-tractate compendium of the Oral Law, delves into picayune details as a way of including every imaginable physical object in its scope. Thus, in discussing which vessel is kosher to use for washing hands upon arising, the Talmud considers clay vessels, wooden vessels, animal skins, cracked vessels, broken vessels, etc., and in so doing holds each and every object up to the light of Torah. Nothing is too mundane to be dealt with, scrutinized, and either used or dismissed for holy action.
According to Kabbalah, every physical object possesses sparks of holiness. By using an object in the way ordained by the Torah, the sparks are released and can ascend. Jews are here in this world to elevate the entire creation.
And the lower the object or activity, the higher the sparks can rise. Thus, after using the bathroom, a Jew is obligated to recite a blessing which includes the words, “It is revealed and known before Your Throne of Glory…” The sages point out that the sanctification of this lowliest of activities gives one the potential to actually rise to the level of the Divine Throne. In this light, we can understand a puzzling statement by the Gaon of Vilna, the great 18th century sage. The Gaon said that the other religions are like the heavens; Judaism is like the earth.
The purpose of the other religions is to transcend this world. The purpose of Judaism is to elevate this world, and in so doing, perfect oneself.
Nowhere is the dichotomy between Judaism and the Eastern religions so pronounced as in their approach to sexuality.
Buddhism, Hinduism, and Jainism all mandate celibacy as the highest path, because indulging in sex means giving in to the lower self. All the serious Bhu-Jews living in Dharamsala have renounced sex.
Torah, by contrast, takes sexuality and examines it, regulates it, prohibits it in certain relationships, and ultimately sanctifies it in marriage as the most potent way to unite with God in this world. Discipline is an essential component of sanctified sexuality. Incestuous relations, among others, are forbidden and married couples adhere to the laws of family purity, where abstention is required during the menstruation cycle.
It is a positive commandment of the Torah for a husband to sexually satisfy his wife (above and beyond the commandment of procreation). According to the Oral Tradition, the union of husband and wife is the closest that human beings can come to union with God in this world. It is the “holy of holies.”
I should note here that Indian (both Hindu and Buddhist) Tantric tradition utilizes the energy of sexual union as a spiritual tool, but Tantric sexuality is not supposed to be practiced with one’s wife. Preferably, it should be practiced with a stranger. This would be anathema in Judaism, where the highest union includes every aspect of the couple: emotional, mental, spiritual, as well as physical. That is why Judaism prohibits marital relations if either spouse is fantasizing about another person. The Shechina, the presence of God, comes to rest only when the husband and wife are acting out total oneness, on all levels.
PURPOSE AND MEANINGAnother salient difference between Buddhism and Judaism is that Buddhism is a non-theistic religion. Although later Mahayana Buddhism virtually made the Buddha himself into a god, the historical Gautama Buddha (who lived in the fifth century BCE) never mentioned God. Thus, the existence of God and even the existence of an immortal soul are either denied or irrelevant in Buddhism.
Judaism, on the contrary, centers totally on God. God is not only the source of all existence, but also the source of the Torah, the intricate system of ideal behavior for humankind. All wisdom flows from God’s Torah, the instruction manual for living.
Further, God is not only the Creator of the universe, but continues to sustain it moment-by-moment, while supervising our participation in it. Living with the awareness of God’s Oneness, love of God, and awe of God are three commandments which should be practiced on a constant basis.
According to Buddhism and Hinduism, this world is ultimately purposeless. Hinduism, which does posit a Divine creator, describes the Divine direction of this world as lila, “playful sport,” with no more purpose and meaning than a game of ball.
According to Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “The foundation of Judaism and the basis of all true religion is the realization that existence is purposeful, and that man has a purpose in life. Both man and nature have meaning because they were created by a purposeful Being.” [Handbook of Jewish Thought, 1:1 and 1:2]
It is the deep intuition of this truth which makes Jews such “meaning freaks”—those always searching for meaning in life and events—unable to tolerate life as a couch potato. Ironically, it is this search for meaning in life which takes many Jews to the East. There they fasten on a purpose for their lives: to attain enlightenment.
Judaism maintains, however, that the purpose of life is not just spiritual consciousness, but primarily refined action. Therefore, that purpose cannot be attained by meditation alone, but through mitzvot: minutely prescribed, consecrated actions.
Of course, spiritual consciousness, or what Judaism calls kavannah, must provide the backdrop to one’s actions. A mitzvah which is done without the consciousness that one is doing the will of God—in order to connect with God—does not actualize its full potential. On the other hand, exalted consciousness which does not express itself in concrete actions is worthless.
The purpose of meditation—in which Bhu-Jews spend many long hours—is to clearly perceive ultimate Truth, in the universe and in one’s own life. Unfortunately, one can be an adept in meditation, and still commit adultery, lose one’s temper, and be bloated with pride. I have known great masters of meditation who succumbed to all three. Spiritual consciousness, in and of itself, does not lead to proper action.
THE HUMAN MISSIONThe sages of the Mussar Movement (a technique of spiritual growth articulated by the 18th century Rabbi Yisrael Salanter) explain the human mission this way:
A human being consists of a soul together with a body. The soul is ever-perfect. We do not need to work on the soul. Rather, we have come into this world to perfect the body (which includes emotions and character traits). The body is like a child with which we have been entrusted. We are obligated to feed, bathe, and rest the body properly. We are obligated to discipline the body, to get it to behave properly, to engage it in acts of kindness, to prevent it from hurting itself or others. The commandments of the Torah are physical because their object is to train the body. Judaism aims not only for an enlightened mind, but for a sanctified body as well.
Therefore, although meditation was practiced by the ancient Prophets and continues to be practiced by modern Hassidim, flights of consciousness can never be more than ancillary to Judaism.
The spiritual work of a Jew is to train the face to smile at a nasty neighbor, to teach the hand to put a coin in the palm of a loathsome beggar, to restrain the tongue from making negative remarks, to feed the stomach only permissible foods, to drill the mind in judging others favorably, to educate the heart to love God, to instruct the shoulders to carry a neighbor’s load, especially that of an enemy, and to control the mouth from lashing out in anger.
The place for blissful contemplation of the Divine Oneness is not in this world but rather in the World to Come. The purpose of this world is to be a place of challenge and accomplishment. Although Jews, especially Israelis, may yearn to escape to a place of peace, our purpose in this life is better served by situations which stretch, test and demand growth.
In the Jerusalem Report, Tenzin Josh (Steven Gluck) defines the difference between Buddhism and Judaism: “Buddhism holds that life is suffering, but the Buddha’s teachings show a clear way out of it (through Enlightenment). The Jewish idea, on the other hand, is just try to adapt.”
Wrong.
Judaism does not just resign itself to a world of darkness. Judaism advocates jumping into the fray, facing evil head-on, struggling against one’s own evil urge, rooting out baseness—in the world and in oneself.
True, it is hard for a monk not to touch money and to live without the comforts of this world. It is even harder to labor to earn a salary and then give 10% off the top to charity, especially when you need every cent to repair your washing machine.
It is difficult to live in silence and seclusion. It is even more difficult to remain focused on God and one’s highest ideals amidst the commotion and distractions of family life.
This world is a place of challenge and attainment. The greater the challenge, the greater the attainment.
CHEERIOS AND ENLIGHTENMENTFor the last six months, I have been working on overcoming anger, which the Talmud equates to the sin of idol worship, because anger is the result of idolizing one’s own will. During the 15 years I lived in an ashram, the 16 years I practiced vegetarianism and yoga, the 17 years I engaged in meditation, I never succeeded in controlling my volatile temper.
Young children provide an ideal environment to work on overcoming anger. They are irrational, contrary, famous for interrupting the sleep cycle, demanding, and do not clean up after themselves. They also make messes, usually right after the floor has been washed, and when their mother is at the lowest point of her bio-rhythm energy cycle.
I thank God every day for my beloved children. But I also yell at them—too much.
Now I am in a Mussar group in which, using the techniques of the Mussar teachers, I work to overcome my inveterate tendency to respond to stress by haranguing whichever culprit backed me into that corner.
Last Tuesday morning, my husband, a musical arranger, had an important recording session. Trying to model the ideal wife, I offered to prepare carrot sticks and humus to send for his lunch. He gratefully accepted, but, knowing my habitual tardiness, warned that he had to leave promptly at 8:30. “No problem,” I assured him. In any case, my six-year-old son had to be out the door by 8:20 to get to school on time. Ten minutes was exactly enough time to prepare the carrot sticks and package some humus in a smaller container. I was on top of it.
At 8:19, my son knocked over a box of Cheerios standing on the edge of the kitchen table. My jaw dropped in horror as hundreds of crunchy O’s landed all over the kitchen floor.
My mental computer screen flashed a dozen red X’s screaming ILLEGAL OPERATION. The mess. The waste. The money (the Cheerios were imported from America). The time. My self-portrait as the ideal wife.
I couldn’t get to the refrigerator to take out the carrots without pulverizing the blanket of Cheerios. If I took the time to clean it up now, I’d be late with my husband’s lunch. My first instinct was to yell at my son, and demand that he clean it up, even if it made him late for school. My second instinct was to lash out at my husband for his damned punctuality that put me under such pressure.
I didn’t yell. I didn’t get angry. In a calm tone, I sent my son off to school. Then I gingerly treaded over the Cheerios to the broom closet, got out the broom, pushed the mess over to one side, retrieved the carrots from the fridge, peeled and cut them as fast as I could, took the whole container of humus (it wouldn’t be too much, I told myself), put everything in a plastic bag, and, with a beatific smile, handed my waiting husband his lunch at 8:33.
I felt a wave of ecstasy sweep over me. I had done it! For this time at least, I had overcome my anger.
It was a bigger accomplishment than samadhi.
December 14, 2011
We must not, in trying to think about how we can make a big difference, ignore the small daily differences we can make which, over time, add up to big differences that we often cannot foresee.
There are moments, and even days, where big progress is just not happening. You have to stay dedicated and have faith that all the little things that you are doing will pay off. We all try to second-guess the process and work on the 'biggest bang' items, the big things. But we can't foresee everything, and sometimes just keeping going creates success. Marian Wright
December 15, 2011
People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is reveals only if there is a light from within. -- Elizabeth Kubler-Ross
December 15, 2011
A POWERFUL REMINDER "...the way you treat people...the way you live your life is having an impact on me...I will struggle with integrity and will not be sure what to do but I will recall what you did...ARE YOU LISTENING DAD?"
December 16, 2011
LIGHT A CANDLE IN THE NIGHT...IT'S A FESTIVAL OF BEAUTIFUL LIGHT...IT'S A TIME TO SEE THE MIRACLES EVERYWHERE IN EVERYDAY LIFE...ONE LITTLE SMILING FACE A LITTLE LIGHT FOR THE HUMAN RACE…
December 16, 2011
Life may not be great every second of the day, but there are seconds in the day that make life great. Focus on those seconds and they will become minutes, and those good minutes become hours...
December 16, 2011
Christopher Hitchens and the Fall of a Worthy Adversary
Huff Post Media
By Rabbi Shmuley Boteach
A journalist friend of mine emailed me at 1AM Friday morning to tell me that Christopher Hitchens had died. The news brought with it a deep sadness and I instantly recited the Jewish prayer upon hearing of the passing of a friend, "Blessed is the true Judge." That instinctive religious action captured the paradox of our unpredictable friendship, born in battle in four public debates -- stretching from 2004 until 2010 -- on G-d, faith, evolution, and religion, but solidified over food at kosher restaurants, kosher wines, and, of course, healthy swigs of whiskey.
We were planning, over the last few months, to do another debate on whether the Jews are the Chosen people, and given Hitchens' discovery that he was Jewish only when his mother revealed it to him in his twenties, the subject held a particular interest for him. Back and forth we went, trying to find a time that might suit him as he awaited the literal return of the voice he had lost to his treatment against esophageal cancer. His mother had also told him that she planned to move to Israel where the Jews were making the desert bloom, a move that was never carried out due to her tragic suicide. In one of my many interviews with Hitchens on my radio show I asked him, given his mother's growing attachment to her people, what it would have meant to him for her to live to see the substantial Jewish intellectual following he would one day amass, and he told me that it would have made him very happy to see her proud. He further shared with me how, amid his passionate atheism, he took pride in his Jewishness due to Jewry's immense emphasis on learning and scholarship and being the people of the book.
When I first heard that Christopher was sick I called upon all fellow people of faith to pray for him and asked him on my radio show if the gesture offended him. He responded that he was deeply flattered even as he was sure there was no one listening. But pray we did, a great many of us, because amid his being the most famous atheist in the world, there was something immensely likeable about him that endeared him to friend and foe alike. He was religion's most vociferous enemy but you could not help but develop an affection for him due to his warmth, wit, and, bizarre as it may sound, humility. Unlike hate-filled atheists like Richard Dawkins whose principal contribution to the world is to detest people with whom they disagree, Hitchens may have had a problem with G-d but he had no such problem with His children. He was one of the world's most strident and eloquent defenders of human freedom, going so far as to break with the left-wing intelligentsia in strongly supporting the invasion of Iraq to protest Saddam's brutalization of his people. Indeed it is immensely ironic -- or if you're more inclined to faith, providential -- that he died on the very day that the United States announced the end to the nine-year war in Iraq, a conflict that he brought his unparalleled eloquence to defend because of his hatred of tyranny in all forms.
Hitchens continued that trend by using his mighty pen to inveigh against any political regime whom he perceived to trample on the innocent. As an essayist he had no equal and as a debater -- and I have seen more than my fair share -- he had few who could better him. One only entered into the verbal boxing ring with him with the keen knowledge that it would be a fight to the death.
But for all his fame he was evinced an accessibility that made him unique. Write him an email and, after a day or two, he would invariably write back, not just a line but many paragraphs. And there was always some unique turn of phrase that brought a smile.
Not that it was always like that. After publishing G-d is Not Great, I detected a hardening in him against people of faith that I found out-of-character and, in February, 2008, we held a take-no-prisoners debate at the 92nd St. Y over the existence of G-d that has now been viewed by nearly three quarters of a million people. He had written in his anti-religious screed that Jewish courts in Israel had ruled that a Jew may not save the life of a non-Jew on the Sabbath. I publicly pledged to buy 100 copies of his book for 100 Rabbis if he could cite even a single such instance and he quoted a source that later turned out to be a famous fraud perpetrated by academic Israel Shahak. I was incensed and wrote Hitchens that he had always prided himself on the truth and had to correct the false information he had disseminated. He wrote back that he would amend the assertion in the book's next printing, and our relationship cooled.
But while the announcement of his esophageal cancer did not soften him on G-d, it did soften him on people of faith, surprised as he was at the huge outpouring of support and prayer from people of every religion. We agreed to stage a public discussion on the afterlife which took place before 1000 people at the Cooper Union in September, 2010, the night before Yom Kippur, Judaism's holiest day. The debate saw an entirely new exchange between me and Christopher, one where we did not seek to eviscerate each other's arguments so much as soberly and respectfully discuss one of life's most profound mysteries. When the debate was over I sent him a case of kosher wine for the Jewish holidays and told him its purpose was to have him and his friends toast, "L'Chaim," the ancient Jewish call for a long life. He wrote back that he was grateful for the gesture and had already finished the case.
I have no doubt that Christopher Hitchens will have an afterlife. As one of the most original and provocative writers of his generation, his words will continue to mesmerize, incite, confound, and entertain. As an atheist who challenged America's deeply held religious convictions, he will continue to serve as a thorn in the side of those who believe that religion requires no rational defense. And for those of us who were privileged to know him, he will be remembered as a warm and engaging presence who, ever the iconoclast, was never afraid to swim alone against strong social currents.
No doubt you are now finally resting in peace Christopher given that, wherever you are, you finally have the answer to that great question of G-d's existence you always debated.
December 17, 2011
MAZAL TOV!!
What a Shabbos can bring! Shabbos ended only to be find out a new grandson had been born in Israel a week before our scheduled departure!! Guess he was eager to begin his journey...Now to figure out how to get there before next Shabbos….
December 18, 2011
The story of Chanukah is all about a clash of cultures. The Greeks weren't out to kill the Jews. Their intent wasn't genocide of a people. It was rather a battle against those who threatened their commitment to hedonism, their infatuation with the body, their obsession with athletic competitions to prove superior worth. In these they found beauty – and the very meaning of life.
Assimilation & the Chanukah Oil
Understanding the meaning of the Chanukah battle, a war unlike any other.
by Rabbi Benjamin Blech, Aish.com
Oil is probably the most politically incorrect of all liquids. It simply refuses to compromise its uniqueness.
If oil were a person it would almost certainly be condemned for its stubborn unwillingness to blend in with others. It chooses to remain aloof, separate and distinct. Mix it with water and it stays apart and maintains its own identity.
No matter how hard you try, oil stays true to itself and just won't assimilate.
Perhaps that's why it deserved to become the ultimate symbol of the Chanukah miracle.
When we celebrate the victory of the Maccabees over the Syrian Greeks, we need to remember what was really at stake in this major confrontation. This was a war unlike any other. It wasn't fought to conquer more territory. It wasn't meant to capture more booty or bodies. This was ultimately a conflict between two totally different ways of viewing the world.
The story of Chanukah is all about a clash of cultures. The Greeks weren't out to kill the Jews. Their intent wasn't genocide of a people. It was rather a battle against those who threatened their commitment to hedonism, their infatuation with the body, their obsession with athletic competitions to prove superior worth. In these they found beauty – and the very meaning of life.
Keats summed up well the Greek ideal in his magnificentOde On A Grecian Urn:
For beauty is truth and truth is beauty; that is all ye know and all ye need to know
The Greeks worshiped the holiness of beauty. The Jews taught the world the beauty of holiness.It was the battle between these two ideas that defined the war of the Maccabees. Sad to say, there were Jews who were seduced by the seductive wiles of secularism and forsook their ancient heritage. They sold their blessings for a mess of pottage. They renounced the message of the prophets for the glory of the games. They chose the temporary rewards of the body over the eternal blessings of the spirit. They are known as the Hellenists. They assimilated – and haven't been heard from since.
The victory of the Maccabees was the triumph of those who exemplified the unique characteristic of oil and refused to assimilate, and instead chose to remain steadfast in our mission to bring the moral vision of Judaism to the world.
That is what makes the story of the Maccabees so very relevant to our time.
In the past few weeks we've been witness to a rather bitter debate about a provocative advertising campaign sponsored by an Israeli Ministry. It seems that the Ministry of Absorption thought it would be a good idea to convince Israeli expatriates living in the United States to come back home by dramatizing the risk of assimilation of their children and grandchildren in the Diaspora. The theme of the ads promoted the idea that living outside of the Jewish homeland threatened their link with the Jewish past, with Jewish tradition and with Jewish culture.
That led to huge fireworks. A prominent Jewish spokesmen declared, "I don't think I have ever seen a demonstration of Israeli contempt for American Jews as obvious as these ads." Critics assailed the campaign as a vicious attack on "the Jewishness" of all those outside of Israel.
So strong was the hue and cry of outrage that the ads were quickly removed. The campaign obviously touched a delicate nerve. In what may very well have been viewed as an over wrought slander on the possibility of Jewish life outside of Israel, the reaction nevertheless vividly demonstrated the powerful fear generated by the thought of assimilation.
And if the ads were wrong because of the way they seemed to differentiate between life in America as opposed to Israel, their message should surely be acknowledged as a wake-up call to Jews no matter where they may be living.
Because the bottom line is that after more than 2000 years, the spirit of the Maccabees seems to be losing in its battle to prevent Jews from assimilating into a fervent embrace of secular culture and ideology.
The Greeks gave us the Olympics. In an irony that defies all logic the Maccabees, who fought for the supremacy of the Temple over the sporting arena, were chosen as the name for the Maccabiah, the international Jewish athletic event similar to the Olympics held in Israel every four years.
Athletic contests are wonderful venues for physical recreation. They cease to be admirable when they take over our lives, as they sometimes do, not only in professional settings but even in collegiate contexts.
Please don't distort what I'm saying. Sporting events are fine if they are understood as adjuncts to a spiritual life. But when they become an end unto themselves, we adopt a foreign value and assimilate.
Assimilation today takes many forms.
We've assimilated when all we want is to party, never to pray.
We've assimilated when all we care about is what we look like on the outside, not what we feel like on the inside.
We've assimilated when our greatest goals are fame and fortune rather than love and learning.
We've assimilated when more than anything else we want to envied by the eyes of our fellow man instead of being treasured in the sight of God.
We've assimilated when our chief goal is to accumulate more goods rather than simply to be good.
We've assimilated when we are far more interested in our inheritance than in our legacy, by what we get from the past rather than what we give to the future.
We've assimilated when we consider our children burdens rather than blessings and when we believe the best things we can give them are valuables rather than values.
Our tradition teaches us to revere the beauty of holiness. That was what the Maccabees fought for as they confronted an alien culture that stressed the body over the soul, the material over the spiritual. That remains our challenge.
Like the oil of the Chanukah story, we dare not assimilate.
As we bring ever greater light into our homes every night with its flame, we affirm our belief that we will succeed. We will maintain our uniqueness that has enabled us not only to survive but to be the torchbearers of morality and civilization for all mankind.
December 18, 2011
So instead of posting 'great gift ideas' or 'fabulous wish lists', how about teaching kids a little bit about gratitude during this challenging time of potential greediness...which by the way, is the polar opposite of what Chanukah represents. Chanukah is about bringing light into our dark world (during the darkest time of the year by the way) by focusing on spirituality instead of materialism.
Cultivating Gratitude, Theirs and MineBy
KJ DELL'ANTONIA NOVEMBER 25, 2011
International New York Times
Marjorie Ingall is worried about raising “entitled, bratty, ungrateful little weasels.” I wish I didn’t share this fear, which is magnified every time my children go near any members of our extended family, all of whom walked to school in the snow uphill both ways, chanting Gregorian songs of gratitude to their parents, their God and their country the entire time.
I know that at some point during the coming holidays, in spite of our last-minute manners makeover, my father will hand some child something, and that child will take it without even grunting an acknowledgement, and that, along with the piles of underappreciated gifts under the tree, will lead us into our oft-repeated discussion of why my children are spoiled and ungrateful. And I will get defensive. They’re not spoiled and ungrateful, I will insist.
Are they?
I have good reason to hope that my children have, or will develop, an “attitude of gratitude.” As John Tierney wrote this week, a sense of appreciation “has been linked to better health, sounder sleep, less anxiety and depression, higher long-term satisfaction with life and kinder behavior toward others.” Who wouldn’t want that, for her children and for herself?
On Tablet, Ms. Ingall describes her plan for weasel-proofing her kids, which involves modeling gratitude herself; putting more emphasis on giving, rather than getting; and linking chores and rewards to develop a sense of earning, instead of a sense of entitlement. All good advice. Some we do, some we work on.
And sometimes, instead, I work on my own gratitude for those sometimes grateful, and sometimes not, children of mine. I see them every day, unlike my father or any of their more distant family members, and I see plenty to appreciate. I see that my youngest daughter is more anxious to share her Halloween candy than to eat it, and I know that once, that kind of sharing was impossible for her. I see that my oldest daughter has a gift for responsibility, and I see her working to master the temper that she inherited from me. I see that my oldest son can always find a bright side to look on, and that my youngest son likes to care for children even younger than he is, and is excellent at tying shoes.
I’m with Ms. Ingall, all the way. I will teach my children to save, to work, to say thank you and to mean it, or I will die trying. There’s plenty left to teach. I will cop to the fact that the sharing daughter is disrespectful, that the responsible one is bossy — and nasty when disappointed — that the oldest son can be feckless. And that youngest son? Spoiled.
But to raise kids with gratitude, we need to model our own appreciation for all we have. When I think of ways to demonstrate how thankful I am for our lives together, I find myself grateful for what’s good in those kids, and wishing I’d said more to thank each and every one of them at the moments when they were shining, and rather less at the moments when they were … not.
Learning to be grateful for what we have instead of clamoring constantly for what we have not is something most of us work on all of our lives, which is why Marjorie Ingall can encourage readers to teach gratitude to kids, while John Tierney is writing about how we can practice it ourselves. Personally, I need both lessons.
So here, on this Thanksgiving, is one more thing I’m grateful for: sometimes, everybody fails to sufficiently appreciate our good fortune. We whine about everything from our first world problems to the cranberry sauce that’s actually touching the turkey on our plates, but as long as we’re still here, we get a chance to give the “attitude of gratitude” another shot.
December 18, 2011
“Don’t worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.”—Robert Fulghum
December 25, 2011
For Jews in America who care about keeping and transmitting their Jewish identity to their children, de Crevecoeur’s words have never been more relevant. For Jews who want to keep their Menorahs off the tops of Christmas trees, de Crevecoeur’s letters from long, long ago should be sounding an anxious alarm.
Menorah on Top of the Tree
aish.com
J. Hector de St. John de Crevecoeur explains how religious identity disappears within one generation in America.
Last week I taught my American literature students a work written in the late eighteenth century. Letters from an American Farmer was written over the span of time that turned the British Colonies into the United States of America. The author, bearer of the unwieldy name J. Hector St. John de Crevecoeur, led an unsettled and adventurous life, moving through dangerous places and times. His work, which is partly autobiographical, purports to be a series of letters from an American farmer to a British aristocrat describing the British colonial enterprise and how the new conditions of the New World have created a new man—an American. The work abounds with characters from the time: the farmer’s Quaker wife, speaking with characteristic “thees” and “thous,” the untamed frontiersmen, the prosperous farmers, the Native Americans whose way of life both threatens and beckons. Nothing, you would say, that is relevant to anything in today’s world, and certainly nothing that relates to our Jewish world — nothing, that is, which is relevant to anything but the breaking news headlines in today’s Jewish newspapers.
One of the big stories here in Israel, and in American Jewish circles, concerns an ad campaign created by the Israeli Immigration and Absorption Ministry to convince Israeli expatriates--yordim, in Hebrew — to return home. The heart of the campaign is the threat of the loss of Israeli identity. Your American children, the ads suggest, won’t know what Chanukah means, will forget to call Daddy Abba, will not remain Israeli. Your non-Israeli partner won’t understand why you lit a candle and cried on Remembrance Day.
The Ministry hoped that their unabashedly emotional campaign would bring the expatriates back to Israel. What they did not expect was the anger it would arouse in American Jewry. Furious analysts and bloggers denounced the suggestion that American children or partners of Israelis cannot distinguish between Christmas and Chanukah or identify with Israel’s sadness on Remembrance Day. Although the Immigration Ministry defended the campaign, Prime Minister Netanyahu cancelled it as a response to American criticism.
J. Hector de St. John de Crevecoeur might have been puzzled by all the brouhaha about the implications of the campaign. Wasn’t this exactly what he had described more than two centuries ago?
Everybody was too busy making money to have much time or energy left over for religious matters.In Letters to an American Farmer, de Crevecoeur specifically explains how in America national and religious identity disappears within one generation. America was a large, unexplored country, without Europe’s social or political tradition of hierarchy. What this meant was that a man could come, claim land, clear it, and begin to work for himself and his family.
The Europe these immigrants had left behind had long been roiling with religious turbulence. Catholics, Protestants, Calvinists, Presbyterians, Anglicans, Puritans, Quakers, all the Christian sects had for centuries been at odds or at war, trying to convince or convert or jail or kill one another. In America, however, where farms were spread out, members of each sect lived too far from one another to encourage zealotry. Furthermore, everybody was too busy cutting down forests, cultivating fields, taking care of their animals—in short, too busy making money—to have much time or energy left over for religious matters. Within a generation, a sense of national and religious identity would be wiped out and children of one religion would happily marry children of parents who held the opposite beliefs.
Sound familiar?
The business of America is business, said President Calvin Coolidge almost one hundred years ago, and de Crevecoeur’s New American can certainly be good for business today. The Jerusalem Post recently reported that Amazon’s top selling Chanukah item was a Star of David or a Menorah-shaped Christmas tree topper.
For de Crevecoeur, coming from a world of religious strife and warfare, the disappearance of religious identity was something to be celebrated, and indeed America’s nearly three hundred year tradition of religious freedom is something to be cherished. For American Jewry, though, trying to hold on to a sense of Jewishness that goes back three thousand years, this same freedom creates a threat embedded in the history and culture and literature of America, one that goes much deeper than a 30 second advertisement by an Israeli Ministry.
Whatever the merits of the ad campaign, it is not a message American Jewry should refuse to hear.American Jewry was uncomfortable hearing from the Israeli Immigration Ministry that within a short space of time Israelis, like all immigrants to the New World, are likely, as de Crevecoeur put it, to be “melted into a new race of men,” losing their Israeli national and Jewish religious identities. This is not, however, a message invented by an Israeli ministry, and whatever the merits of the ad campaign for yordim, it is not a message American Jewry should refuse to hear. Anger at the messenger will not change the message.
If American Jews don’t want to listen to their Israeli cousins, they can read this early work of American literature to understand that American assimilation is the dark side of American economic opportunity and religious freedom, and that in fighting to keep a Jewish identity they are fighting against a tradition that goes deeply into the American psyche. For Jews in America who care about keeping and transmitting their Jewish identity to their children, de Crevecoeur’s words have never been more relevant. For Jews who want to keep their Menorahs off the tops of Christmas trees, de Crevecoeur’s letters from long, long ago should be sounding an anxious alarm.
December 25, 2011
We still hear the echoes of this cultural clash today, as Winston Churchill wrote in his History of the Second World War, "No other two races [but the Jews and Greeks] have set such a mark upon the world. Each of them from angles so different have left us with the inheritance of its genius and wisdom...the main guiding light in modern faith and culture."
Let There Be Light,
Rabbi Joel Padowitz
aish.com
During the holiday of Chanukah, Jews relive their military and ideological victory over their Hellenistic adversaries. We still hear the echoes of this cultural clash today, as Winston Churchill wrote in his History of the Second World War, "No other two races [but the Jews and Greeks] have set such a mark upon the world. Each of them from angles so different have left us with the inheritance of its genius and wisdom...the main guiding light in modern faith and culture."
Classic Jewish texts refer to the period during which the Hellenists held influence over Israel as the "Greek Exile." Perplexingly, however, throughout that period the Jews lived in Israel, and there was no attempt to drive them from their homeland. This begs the question: Who—or what—had been exiled?
The Sages answer with an allegorical comparison of existence under the Hellenists to the darkness at the beginning of creation. The first two lines of Genesis read, "In the beginning...the earth was empty...and darkness was upon the face of the deep." The command "Let there be light" then banished the darkness. Since the luminous heavenly bodies were not created until much later, this first "light" refers a primordial light of God—the essence of spirituality. The sages thus perceived the Hellenistic world as an imposing darkness devoid of spirituality, yet readily remedied by it.
Remarkably, despite our traditional sources comparing Greek culture to spiritual darkness, they simultaneously affirm that ancient Greece was the most beautiful and cultured of all civilizations. Indeed, it was in Hellenism that for the first time Jews found an intellectually stimulating alternative to Judaism. In those days—as in ours—the glamour of Greece, her arts and comforts, enticed many Jews to complete assimilation.
The Hellenistic worldview glorified the human being as the pinnacle of creation – both his mind and his body.The Hellenistic worldview glorified the human being as the pinnacle of creation – both his mind and his body. Since the time of Aristotle, to most philosophers, the world runs by natural laws, entirely accessible to human intellect and observation. Phenomena which people hope to rationalize are pursued, and those that lie beyond the confines of pure reason or direct observation are spurned as folly. We find modern expression of this approach in the current widespread assumption that there exists no reality beyond the physical world. Such a view relegates elevated notions such as love, free will, and the soul to the realm of self-deluding biochemistry.
Consistent with this view, "relative morality" rules the day, denying the existence of any absolute right or wrong. Existentialism, the philosophy of life's absurd futility and inherent meaninglessness, also readily follows from this point of view. These disheartening conclusions, held by so many today, emerge from the perspective of the world as a circus of atomic nuts and bolts lacking any overall purpose or deliberate design, and organized only by patterns we humans project upon it.
Yet many thinking people consider ridiculous the view that life is utterly meaningless and that there is nothing wrong with cold-blooded murder other than personal preference. Even Bertrand Russell, the twentieth century's most eloquent atheistic philosopher, conceded, "I cannot see how to refute the arguments for the subjectivity of ethical values, but I find myself incapable of believing all that is wrong with wanton cruelty is that I don't like it." Those who posses the humility to concede that the human mind's reasoning faculty has its limits are forced to reexamine this constricted view of reality.
At the time when Athens and Jerusalem locked horns, a faithful core of Jews maintained that the mechanical laws of nature are subordinate to a purposeful creator. They saw the glory that was Greece, not as a dimness of intellect, but as a bleak shackling of the human spirit. The brilliant spiritual intensity of humankind had been eclipsed by superficialities, only because these were more easily appreciated by human reason. This was the "darkness" of Greece.
What the Greeks had exiled was the spark of the human spirit.What the Greeks had exiled was the spark of the human spirit. They embraced the body and mind, but neglected the soul. Traditional Jews, on the other hand, acknowledged the intellect as the soul's most powerful and reliable tool, and the body as its trusted servant—but nothing more. Those who remained faithful to their Jewish ideals were bold enough to accept a tradition that concurs with universal human intuition: that objective moral and spiritual realties exist, despite our inability to sense or rationalize them fully.
It is by no coincidence then, that the miraculous Jewish victory over the Hellenists culminated in the relatively modest miracle of the single cruse of oil burning for eight days. To Greek thinkers—and their modern-day secular heirs—the physical world may be wondrous, but that's the whole story. The oil burning for eight days symbolized that within the very stuff of which the physical world is made, rests a very real inner dimension waiting to light up our lives. The challenge of the Jew is to see address the inner dimension of the physical realm and enable its spiritual potential to shine forth.
To commemorate our victory over the darkness of Greece, we place a delicately flickering flame on our windowsills to shine into the wintry black of the year's longest nights. We partner with our Creator in fulfilling His command, “Let there be light!”, banishing the superficial darkness of this world by reminding ourselves and our neighbors that deep within every one of us glows a spiritual ember waiting to burst aflame and fill the world with Godly beauty that transcends what the eye can see. This is the message of Chanukah. This is the message of being a "light unto the nations." And this is the message of the Jewish people.
December 27, 2011
Rabbi Benjamin Blech, professor of Talmud at Yeshiva University, said the rabbis believed that study should not be made too easy. “We want people to struggle with the text because by figuring it out you will have a deeper comprehension,” he said. “They wanted a living index, not a printed index.”
After 1,500 Years, an Index to the Talmud’s Labyrinths, With Roots in the Bronx
By JOSEPH BERGER New York Times
The Talmud is a formidable body of work: 63 volumes of rabbinical discourse and disputation that form Judaism’s central scripture after the Torah. It has been around for 1,500 years and is studied every day by tens of thousands of Jews. But trying to navigate through its coiling labyrinth can be enormously difficult because the one thing this monumental work lacks is a widely accepted and accessible index.
But now that breach has been filled, or so claims the publisher ofHaMafteach, or the Key, a guide to the Talmud, available in English and Hebrew. It was compiled not by a white-bearded sage, but by a courtly, clean-shaven, tennis-playing immigration lawyer from the Bronx.
The index’s publisher, Feldheim Publishers, predicts it will be snatched up by yeshivas and libraries, but more important, it will be a tool for inveterate Talmud students — and there are plenty of those. Feldheim’s president, Yitzchak Feldheim, said the first printing of 2,000 books — a market test — sold out in a few days here and in Israel. More printings have been ordered.
The index has 6,600 topical entries and 27,000 subtopical entries that point students to the treatises and pages of text they are seeking.
In these passages, sages analyze matters like whether one can remarry a former wife after she has been betrothed to another, or how one should handle a lost object found in a garbage heap. The index guides the student to significant laws about Sabbath and daily observance, as well as maxims, parables, commentaries and Talmudic personalities.
The English version costs $29.99, and the Hebrew, $24.99.
The index represents seven years of work, but do not ask Daniel Retter why he undertook it, unless you have a spare hour. His answers are as meandering as the Talmud itself, with pathways leading to byways leading to offshoots that sometimes end in cul-de-sacs. Along the way, his voice sometimes rises and falls in Talmudic singsong, and his eyes glitter with delight at the saga’s oddities.
“My father was a man of letters,” he begins, then describes how his father, Marcus, had been dedicated to Talmud study during an epic life in which, as a child, he escaped the Nazis on the Kindertransports that rescued Jewish children from Germany and took them to British havens. He brought his family, including Daniel, to New York from London in 1949. (With his dry wit, Mr. Retter noted that his father had literally been a man of letters, since a dozen of his had been printed in The New York Times.)
Daniel Retter, 66, attended a yeshiva, enrolled at City College at night while studying Talmud in the daytime, then studied at Brooklyn Law School during the day while digesting Talmud at night.
He married another lawyer, Margie, an advocate for abused women seeking Jewish divorces; they raised four children and ended up in Riverdale, where he continued his Talmudic explorations.
“I can’t waste a minute,” he said in an interview at the Manhattan offices of his law firm, Herrick, Feinstein. “If I’m on the immigration line waiting for a client to be called, I study the Talmud.”
But a puzzle nagged at him. He and other students sometimes needed help tracking down a specific passage, law or topic, or the thoughts of sages like Hillel and Shamai. Most of the time the student consults a loftier scholar.
“For the life of me,” Mr. Retter said, “I could not understand why the Talmud did not have an index.”
One 50-year-old translation of the Talmud, by Soncino Press, has an index, but its pages do not match those of the standard Aramaic text used by most students hunched over their dog-eared volumes.
More recent English translations are either not indexed or have not been completed. For three decades, Talmud students have been able to use a Nexis-like CD search engine, the Responsa Project, created by Bar Ilan University in Israel, that locates words by frequency and proximity. But like Google, it often produces irrelevant hits. Bar Ilan officials acknowledged that the CD had one major disadvantage: students cannot get access to it on the Sabbath, when much learning takes place. It also costs $790.
Rabbi Fohrman
Can prayer help?
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> I think our deepest instinct in times like these is that it can. Hardwired into the human condition, I believe, is the instinct to pray. To act on this instinct is not to grasp at straws; indeed, the same instinct that propels us to pray assures us that somehow, prayer matters; that heartfelt appeals to the Creator can make a difference. Indeed, the Torah is full of instances of prayer. The simplest interpretation of these episodes is that God actually considers what we human beings say, when we say it with an open and genuine heart.
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> And yet, for many of us, there is a gap between instinct and intellect. We find ourselves beset by a theological quandary. Our hearts tell us we must pray. But our minds seduce us with counterarguments: If God is perfect, and God knows what is best, why does God need my prayer? Why should I try to change a ‘perfect’ plan? What good can prayer do, after all?
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> Various answers have been proposed to this puzzle. Some suggest that God’s Will cannot be affected by human appeal; that in prayer, the only thing we can change is perhaps ourselves. In effecting personal change, we can hope that God will take note and perhaps respond to these changed circumstances with a different outcome than might otherwise have come about.
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> This, indeed, is one possible response. But, speaking personally, I see things differently. While prayer may indeed change us personally, I suspect things are a bit more complex than that. I think if we indeed have a relationship with God, the very concept of a relationship implies a certain kind of dynamism. It implies that change can happen – on both sides. That’s what happens in relationships. We pray because we sense that our relationship with God is real. That words can matter.
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> My Rosh Yeshiva, Rabbi Yaakov Weinberg, used to sometimes draw the analogy to a parent and child. A child may know that his or her parents are smarter than he or she is, and that they want only the best for him or her. But that doesn’t stop the child from beseeching the parent for things anyway. And sometimes, the parent says yes. That’s just the way relationships work.
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> I recorded this week’s Parasha video well before the teens were kidnapped. I did not have their plight in mind when we produced it – for that plight did not yet exist. But as fate may have it, I do think that the themes the video deals with are relevant to these questions. If you’ve ever struggled with these points, you may find it of interest – and if so, I encourage you to take a look. You can find it here:
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> https://alephbeta.org/course/lecture/korach-can-we-influence-god
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> There may be ways we can help the three boys and their families. Political activism is one. Support for and solidarity with the families is another. And prayer, I believe, is another.
Rabbi Pinchas Landis
One of the reasons that we read parshas Bechukosai before Shavuos is the same reason that we read Parshas Ki Savo before Rosh HaShana. Its the concept of תחלה שנה וקללותיה-the year should end with its curses. In other words, with the mazel from the new year, we should no longer know the צרות-suffering of the previous year. This makes sense before Rosh Hashana, but why before Shavuos? Shavuos is a Rosh Hashana in its own right. Its our annual renewal of our commitment to Hashem's Torah. With a renewed commitment to Torah, we will be better suited for good mazel and good things. As many of you know, my mother-in-law Zahava Goldwasser is going through a vicious war right now with anaplastic thyroid cancer. As we ponder our renewed commitment to Torah, please have her in mind. Please make a commitment between this Shavuos and next that you will learn something new in her merit, even if its just 10 minutes a week. With this, she should have a רפואה שלמה בקרוב-a quick and speedy recovery, and it should be a true תחלה שנה וקללותיה!
Rabbi Aryeh Ginzberg
Chazal tell us that when Klall yisroel came to be mekabeil the Torah on Shavous, the first thing HKB"H did was heal ALL the sick people. There is an old and well proven segulah amongst the Gedolim in Yerushalayim over the last few hundred years that has been personally endorsed by the late Gadol Hador Harav Yosef Shalom Elyashav zt"l. He explained that this tradition of HKB"H coming to heal the sick on Shavous still exists TODAY every Shavous. Rav Elyashav zt"l himself would close his Gemoroh (something he never usually did) on erev Shavous and go visit the sick & share with them this ancient segulah.
The segulah is that when the baal koreh is reading the Aseres Hadibros on Shavous, one should ask HKB"H at that auspicious time for a refuah for a choleh. This is the ONLY segulah that Rav Elyashav zt"l himself endorsed and shared with others.I would like to suggest that we all spread the word to as many people that we can between now & shavous, that when the kriah of the Aseres Hadibros is being read, we have thousands of people asking HKB"H for a refuah shleima for ZAHAVA BAS SOROH NECHA.
In the zechus of all these tefillos being said on Zahava's behalf, we will be zoceh to celebrate together multiple Goldwasser family simcohs with Zahava in the middle of the circle for many years to come aad bias goel tzedek bb"a. regards, Aryeh Z. Ginzberg
May 15: Zahava sent along this beautiful d'var Torah.
A Rabbi’s Perspective: Rabbi Emanuel Feldman
“Second Thoughts:
Where the Holy and Mundane Meet
Band-Aids, paper clips, zippers, earplugs, Bubble Wrap, tea bags. What do these items all have in common. This: They are indispensable fixtures of daily life, they make our lives much more livable — and they are taken completely for granted.
Take the lowly paper clip. Do we ever give it a second look? But try holding documents and papers in an orderly manner without a paper clip, and then you will appreciate what life would be like without one.
And what about those useful little Post-it notes? They come in all colors and sizes, and help us organize (or, in my case, un-disorganize) our activities. Our lives are filled with such ubiquitous little helpers: Scotch/cello tape, Saran Wrap, aluminum foil — all those anonymous household items that we take for granted but make life a little easier.
Atlanta's Museum of Design is now presenting a special exhibition of these overlooked, everyday items, which they call “Hidden Heroes: The Genius of Everyday Things.” In the exhibit, for example, the humble paper clip is displayed with a special frame of its own, together with a legend outlining its history, its inventor, the date of its first use, and its general provenance. The same treatment is given to Post-it notes, tin cans, corkscrews, Saran Wrap, and other unheralded little things — 36 in all — that smooth our daily existence. The exhibit’s creators want to focus our attention on the small items that enhance our daily living and that invariably go unrecognized and unnoticed.
The exhibit set me to thinking. Perhaps we should mount a similar exhibition in the museum of our minds, a display of those items in our daily lives that we also take for granted without giving them a second thought. As you enter this virtual museum, on your right will be a special room featuring “taken-for-granted prayers.” Inside, you will find specially framed reproductions of overlooked but indispensable prayer fixtures of daily life. Here you will not find Kol Nidrei, or Ne’ilah, or Hallel; instead, in one corner is a framed reproduction of Ashrei (Tehillim 145), recited three times each day, 365 days a year. Ashrei is the paper clip of davening: We say it so frequently that we take it for granted, often mumbling the words while our thoughts are a thousand miles away. But Ashrei is the paper clip that keeps daily prayer together. It deserves a special gallery of its own that will remind us of its glorious role in Tehillim and in davening, and just why it opens up Ne’ilah on Yom Kippur afternoon.
The next frame would feature the Aleinu prayer. Pity the poor Aleinu, the majestic prayer that, because of its ubiquitousness, has been reduced to an exercise in speed reading at the end of the davening as we rush out to our mundane lives. The Aleinu frame would feature its provenance, its authorship (Yehoshua himself), and how it achieved its unaccustomed once-a-year recognition during the Yamim Noraim.
A third frame would show the tiny, three-letter word, Amen. Recited endless times each day by shul-goers, this is the poster child of neglected prayers. And it is a prayer, for it represents the affirmation of the brachah, or the Kaddish, that precedes it. How many people know of its crucial importance? Or that its proper pronunciation requires kavanah, or that its three letters (alef, mem, nun) stand for Keil Melech ne’eman — G-d, trustworthy King? This paper clip of our davening surely deserves a prominent place in our virtual museum.
There would be space for other displays and exhibits. Brachos in general deserve a spot, especially that poor, abused, all-purpose brachah, shehakol nehiyeh bidvaro, which is recited, not always consciously, before drinking water or imbibing many other foods. The rest of this gallery room would show a beautifully framed Bircas Hamazon, recalling its authorship: none other than Moshe Rabbeinu and Yehoshua and King David.
Such a museum has endless potential for bringing into our consciousness the myriad elements of our tefillos that are indispensable for meaningful living — most of which we take for granted. Future museums could feature other hidden miracles that we take for granted — wives, husbands, children, friends, teachers.
Paper clips, Post-it notes, and tea bags; Ashrei, Aleinu, and Amen — could they be more un-alike? And yet, in some mysterious way, they are closely related. Because everyday things and everyday prayers and everyday people are not everyday: They require our constant, unflagging attention. And they keep us from sleepwalking through life.