Rabbi Shishler online

What your car says about you

2012-01-27T11:21:00.002+02:00

A 2009 Forbes article claims that the car you drive says a lot about who you are. Besides the obvious wealth-wheels relationship, your choice of vehicle supposedly reveals your character.

In the USA, for example, apparently 13% of Chevy owners don't use the Web, while only 3% of Honda owners are not tech-savvy. According to the San Diego-based study, Mini Coopers are a sign of sophistication, Toyotas of practicality and Bentleys of, well, nothing really- other than money.

Many people don't buy a car as a status symbol, but simply to get the best vroom for their buck. We all know that a car is a depreciating asset that will drain your wallet each time you fill it. 200 000km or six years down the line (the US average) you'll be ready for a new set of wheels (and won't expect to get too much for your old model).

Whatever it says about you, your car says you will spend on an item you know cannot provide lasting value.

Now, on a Jewish note, what do your Tefillin say about you? Do you own a worn-out, hand-me-down pair from your Zaida or do you wear the compact-but-shiny-new pair that seemed reasonable at "only" R2500. Perhaps you've taken the flashy "4x4" option, large and symmetrical, with top-class parchments inside.

An expensive pair can set you back up to R10 000. It will also require a maintenance plan (annual service at the sofer), but won't cost much more to run. You can expect to replace parts maybe once in twenty years. Other than that, if you're not negligent, your pair should last you a lifetime. Your car might get you to your office, the shops or even Cape Town, but your Tefillin will take you to Heaven and back daily. A good pair is a solid investment.

What, then, do your Tefillin say about you? Perhaps they say "time for an upgrade (or, at least a check-

up)." Maybe your Tefillin say "here's a man who appreciates real-lasting value" or "this man believes spiritual assets are important". Tefillin are a worthwhile investment that offers perks like good health and peace of mind, which outpace ABS, Park-Assist or run-flat tyres.

Next time you put yours on, plan to have your Tefillin assessed to ensure they are kosher. If they look undersized or are growing shabby, it's probably time to invest in a new model.

This is Israel

2012-01-12T18:34:00.000+02:00

W.R., a member of our community, sent me this hot-off-the-press story today that I just have to share with you.

Her brother and his family have just returned from a visit to Israel. While there, they lost their camera on a street in Petach Tikvah. I'm going out on a limb here, but Joburgers have long become cynical of every finding something they had lost in a public space. So, I'm not judging Wendy's brother, but I imagine he assumed he had seen the last of his camera.

Well, Israel is different. Considerably different.

Today W's brother received an unbelievable email. Apparently, a young student at a yeshivah in Petach Tikvah found a camera lying on the pavement. Not seeing a name on the camera, the concerned student became creative in his quest to track down the owner and perform the mitzvah of "Hashavas Aveida", returning lost objects.

He scrolled through the photos until he noticed one of a young boy holding a Primary School diploma. The diploma had the boy's name and the name of his school- King David Linksfield. So, together with his rabbi, the young student set out to discover where in the world this school was. Then they emailed the school office to ask if they had a student called so-and-so, the boy in the picture. The school forwarded the message to W's brother this morning and he will soon get his camera (and Israel holiday memories) back.

That's the real Israel.

Don't believe the media's portrayal of division and derision. Sure, there is a fringe Haredi group that publicly humiliates ostensibly "immodest" women. Yes, there are secular Israelis who spit anti-religious vitriol whenever the opportunity arises. But, the real Israel is an over-sized family of diverse siblings who squabble constantly, but genuinely care about each other.

Moshe himself was castigated by G-d in this week's Parsha for speaking unfavourably of his fellow Jews. With agenda-fueled negative reporting of our family back in Israel, we need to remind ourselves who those people really are. Every one of them a brother or sister who cares about us as we should care about them.

Grow up and start acting like a baby!

2012-01-09T09:51:00.001+02:00

Israeli society isn't playing by the rules at the moment. The "rules" say that, when faced with an external threat, you put your differences aside and pull together.

Yet, at the same time that Gazan rockets intermittently pound Israeli towns, the Muslim Brotherhood seems poised to control Egypt and Ahmadinejad continues his war rhetoric, Israelis are bickering like never before.

Charedi fringe elements attack IDF bases, attack little girls for dressing "immodestly" and then don concentration camp uniforms while they condemn the government. The media ramps up the frenzy, tainting all religious Israelis with the same "segregation" brush and warn of a "Taliban-style" takeover of the country by extremists. Various shades of religious Israelis slander each other and the secular majority's intolerance of religious extremists is Code Red.

The same diverse society that shared a common lump-in-the-throat when Gilad Shalit came home is mud-slinging at full throttle. Secular and religious Israelis have clashed many times before, but the current spat seems more bitter- and more public- than what we've seen in the past.

Honestly, I've barely checked the unfolding events and have only stitched together a picture from glances at email headlines and talk overhead on the street (or, more accurately, in Shul). Instead, I have spent the last week with dear friends who have just tragically buried their eighteen-month-old daughter. Through the week of shiva a constant stream of Charedi, Mizrachi, secular and Chabad Jews have shared tears and stories, as they have marveled at the stubborn faith of a young couple and the global legacy their baby left behind. Without speaking, Baby Noa touched thousands around the globe and galvanized them into a common goal of prayer and optimism, of staring down obstacles and reclaiming faith. I saw strangers pray for her recovery in New York, Los Angeles, Sydney and Melbourne- and there were certainly dozens more such locations.

Baby Noa hadn't yet learned the dark art of judgement, so nobody judged her. Nobody judges a baby. The thousands who davened for her didn't need to know her family's last name, her mother's profession or which shul her father attended. They just cared. Instinctively. As anyone cares for a child.

I only wish Noa's legacy could touch and unite Israeli society as it did all those thousands of Jewish un-strangers who've shared the bond of caring for her well-being over the last months. Someone needs to remind Israelis that each of us is called a child of G-d. It's time to grow up and act like one.

Chanukah - the battle over wisdom

2011-12-19T06:31:00.001+02:00

Two part audio class on what really happened in the Chanukah battle:

http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/media_cdo/aid/1064475/jewish/The-Battle-Over-Wisdom-Part-1.htm

http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/media_cdo/aid/1064476/jewish/The-Battle-Over-Wisdom-Part-2.htm

Enjoy!

Stepping stars

2011-12-08T22:59:00.001+02:00

Until my recent visit to L.A. I had no idea that the vibrant Chabad community and the paltry Hollywood stomping ground are neighbours. My daughter loved the freedom to walk the streets (something we don't get to do much in Johannesburg), so we padded down Pico Boulevard and hiked up La Brea. Quite accidentally, we stumbled onto Hollywood Boulevard.

Hatted Chassidim are incongruous on this noisy stretch of celebrity-crazed buskers and tourists. A Yeshivah student, cycling home stopped me to say he was surprised to find a rabbi on this street. I doubt I was the first.

We walked down past souvenir shops and posed for a photo with Robert Wadlow's likeness outside the Guinness Book of Records Museum. We also found ourselves traipsing along the well-known "Hollywood Walk of Fame".

I always knew such a thing existed somewhere in that sprawling city, but had not given a thought to where it might be until it appeared at my feet. Certain I would recognize most of the names molded into the floor, I was surprised to see very few familiar ones. My celeb-knowledge is clearly outdated.

Finally, I spotted a familiar name! Admittedly a shadow-hero in my childhood, but certainly a character that every six year-old (at least in my day) would agree deserved to be immortalised in the "Walk of Fame": Woody Woodpecker!

In my now-adult mind, the wonder of the "Walk of Fame" dissolved right there. To equate human talent and fictional creatures surely undermines the value of the former. Or perhaps, Hollywood intrinsically understands that everything about itself is make-believe.

I looked down at the stars stretching out underfoot and was immediately reminded of G-d's promise to Abraham that his descendants would become "as the stars of the heavens and the dust of the Earth".

The commentaries detect innuendo in that promise: "Follow what G-d says and you will rise as stars and illuminate the world; ignore His directions and you will be reduced to the dust that people walk upon." In Hollywood, the stars lie on the ground, as hundreds of people walk over them every hour.

I was glad to be headed to New York for the Shluchim conference to meet real heroes, who have dedicated their lives to illuminating the lives of others.

Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks' amazing address to Chabad Shluchim

2011-11-29T15:56:00.001+02:00

Black hat Friday

2011-11-28T06:12:00.000+02:00

Now this was funny: Was in the long Shluchim line to buy a new hat on "Black Friday", so renamed it "Black Hat Friday". Seems the ever-present Crown Heights paparazzi picked it up :)

PIC OF THE DAY

An address for blessing

2011-11-17T02:35:00.001+02:00

You can barely take a step in the modern world without everyone knowing where you are and what you're up to. Take your choice: You can Facebook, tweet or simply change your BBM or Whatsapp status to instantaneously geotrack yourself.

This morning, I got to use that connectivity for good cause. I was privileged to visit the "Ohel" of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Some casually call it the Rebbe's resting place. Kabbalah describes a Tzadik's grave as holy ground and a portal of connection to on High. Either way, it's an inspiring place and a well of blessing and miracles.

Arriving at the Ohel, I updated all the relevant social networks and set about preparing to daven. I expected to get a number of requests for prayers. Nothing could have prepared me for the cascade of messages that clogged my phone over the next hours.

No Facebook update I've ever posted garnered a fraction of the responses this one did. Just about everybody on my BBM list replied. Sadly, a large portion of the list was for people who need healing. A good portion was for people seeking their soulmate or hoping to fall pregnant. Many simply asked for a general brocha.

During that brief Ohel visit I learned a few things:

I learned that every person needs some blessing in their lives. I saw that we need to appreciate those times when the blessings we need are not for the serious problems that others are facing. I also got to experience the overwhelming unity and goodwill that comes from sharing an opportunity for blessing with others.

Most inspiring of all, I learned that the Jewish soul instinctively knows that we have an address for blessings. Dozens of people sent me hundreds of names within moments of me inviting them to share my visit to the Ohel. Almost none of these people have ever visited the Ohel personally or met the Rebbe. Most of them have never studied the philosophy behind praying at a Tzadik's grave and how or why it works. They just have built-in faith.

I stood at the Ohel feeling blessed for being there; for having an address to turn to for a blessing; for belonging to a People who naturally share that connection.

May all those blessing requests be fulfilled.

2011-11-17T02:32:00.001+02:00

New York cabbies are an eclectic spread of American minorities, each a little quirky and with a story to tell. Often, as you exit the JFK terminals, hours of cabin fever give way to cab-angst.

My flight had been smooth, arrival in New York sluggish (believe it or not, the US Immigration's computers were down) and stepping into the cool morning air a relief.

Despite the grey drizzle, the dispatcher was chirpy and getting a taxi was remarkably painless. My chauffeur for the morning was an elderly African American fellow. I couldn't initially ascertain if he'd actually woken up before taking the wheel. His slur and half-closed eyes belied the verbal torrent that was about to greet me. But, that's how the New York cabbies work. Each has something to say.

"Ya gonna tha' syngog by the cemtry?" he wanted to know. Once I deciphered his question, I was impressed that he had identified me as a Chabadnik and knew exactly where to deposit me.

For ten minutes en route to the Rebbe's resting place, he rambled on. I understood about a third of what he had to say. Apparently, I got the meaningful bits.

At some point, for some unknown reason, he started discussing people who hate other people. His outlook on the subject was simple. And bull's-eye.

"Ya gotta 'member you're just a pile of dirt. A pile of dirt!" He swiveled back to see my reaction and mistook my horror at his almost hitting another car for admiration.

"Now, thinkaboudit- wouldya git angry at a pile o' dirt? If you held sand in ya hand, couldya hate it?"

There it is: Real-life wisdom, distilled in endless circuits along busy city streets.

It's an overcast Wednesday morning, I'm on the way to the Rebbe and the taxi driver is sharing Chabad teachings.

People only hate people when they take themselves, and each other's foibles, too seriously. Let go of some ego and people don't get in your face that much.

About 100 years ago, a Chosid came to the third Lubavicther Rebbe (the Tzemach Tzedek) to complain. He argued that his fellow Chassidim "walked all over him" every time he entered the Shul. The Tzemach Tzedek's reply: "Don't try spread yourself over the whole Shul and nobody will step on you."

"Let my soul be like dust to all", we intone at the end of the Amidah. Our forefather, Avraham, was first to say it: "I am but dust and ashes". Avraham didn't hate a soul. He defended the undefendables of Sodom and Gommorah.

Humility is the vaccine against hate.

What would you do for "The Cause"?

2011-11-15T16:02:00.001+02:00

I almost didn't recognize a portion of our Shul members this past Shabbos. Guys who are normally suave and presentable walked through the doors with bristles on their upper lip. One fellow mistook one of the moustache-sprouters for John Cleese and another admitted he felt like Mario from the video games. Between the sideswipe glances, chuckles and eyebrow-raises, we managed to make it through the service.

Just before Shul I got to ask a couple of the new moustachios how the lip-hair had been received. One admitted that his coworkers laughed and the other complained that his wife didn't approve of his. So, why did they do it?

Apparently, this month is also known as Movember. For one month, guys grow their moustache and raise sponsorship for taking the dare. All money raised goes towards funds for men's health issues. Participants itch, look geeky and tolerate smirks for a month in support of "The Cause". Not everyone who does it knows what "The Cause" is (I checked), but they have been convinced that "The Cause" is worth looking silly for.

Ironically, many of these same brave-hearts wouldn't dare walk out in public with a kippa on their heads. Apparently, we have lots more work to do to teach people how valuable "The Jewish Cause" is.

Open Letter to the Russell Tribunal| News24

2011-11-08T13:56:00.000+02:00

My, my... what do we have here? Tolerance and even-handed, open debate? Apparently not.

No surprises here...

Open Letter to the Russell Tribunal| News24

Oh, my aching head...

2011-10-25T23:25:00.000+02:00

Aching head? Not quite, thank G-d. Aching muscles and near-hoarseness are my Simchas Torah injuries (I won't highlight those individuals who may have suffered minor migraines over the weekend...) But, getting back into a five-day work week with nary a Yom Tov in sight, does tighten the tension around my temples.

Rosh Hashanah through Simchas Torah is the "Yiddles in Wonderland" potpourri of everything from introspective remorse to careening Torah dances. Through this past month we've shape-shifted through contrition, resolution and celebration. We've eaten more than we should have, prayed more than we normally would have and have hopefully participated as well as we could have. G-d, in his infinitely imaginative way, has provided us with enough stimulation and inspiration to make the holiday season electric.

Now, the spiritual hangover starts as we head back to the drudgery of normal life. In truth, there are some lingering Yom Tov tunes, a few leftover meals and (hopefully) a New Year's resolution or two still in place, so the season isn't quite forgotten yet. But, it will be soon; buried in bills, traffic and the overfull inbox of life's incessant monotony.

And that's exactly the point.

Floating along through spiritual experiences that G-d has placed there for our benefit is great, but says nothing of our own abilities. We're essentially passengers following a predetermined itinerary through a slew of spiritual destinations.

Cheshvan, the month we start this Shabbos, is when you get to test what you are able to offer to the world. You've now stepped off the holy Contiki tour and won't be getting any supernatural pickups for some time. Now's the time for you to make an impact; to step into the "ordinary" world and deliver your unique spiritual message.

G-d didn't create the world so that He could achieve great spiritual things, but so that we could. Now that we've disembarked off his cruise ship, we get the chance to make our mark on the world.

To be Jewish over Yom Tov is tiring, but expected. To be Jewish in daily life- that's an achievement.

How to Re-brand Yourself - Audio Classes

2011-09-18T21:05:00.000+02:00

How to Re-brand Yourself - Audio Classes:

'via Blog this'

You won't believe what our painter did to us this week

2011-09-01T21:29:00.000+02:00

It's been a manic week- between juggling the regular Yom Tov prep (which is hectic under ordinary circumstances) and managing the plethora of details that need attention so we can get into our new Jewish Life centre on time. And then there was the painter.

The paint issue has been a significant time-consumer this week. We need to paint the outside of the building before the spring rains come. While we're about it, it's logical to paint the inside and reduce the overall contract cost. So, we went painter-hunting. In reality, we had already tried- and rejected- two contractors (just too expensive) before the architect found Andre.

Andre seemed to be a decent guy (in our five-minute meeting), friendly and keen to help. He came, he measured; he left, he quoted. His quote seemed reasonable, so we were ready to roll, but I wanted to see if I could get us some paint donated. My attempt flopped, so we reverted to the original gameplan of paying for materials.

Well, Andre surprised us. On his own initiative, he contacted Plascon Paint to ask them to donate the paint. Our architect emailed him a nice thank-you note and added a typically mischevious message that, as sign of thanks, I would intervene with G-d on Plascon's behalf "to ensure their turnover would grow from strength to strength".

I thought it was quite funny.

Andre didn't.

Late last night, he emailed me, "G-d has been good to me all my life. I'll do this one for free."

Just like that.

Here's a man, he's not Jewish, he's not a member of the community, but he's willing to donate his time and services to help us. We often talk about how G-d will repay us for a mitzvah, especially tzedokah. To Andre it's clearly serious business. Do some work for G-d (or His people) and the blessings will come.

It's the month of Elul, an introspective time to weigh up just how real our relationship with G-d is. Traditionally, it's a time to go out on a limb and do more of what Hashem wants of us. The Rambam lists tzedokah as the first step in this process. In today's Tanya lesson (there's one for each day of the year) we discover that charity heals a wounded soul, as medicine does an unhealthy body. Just as you wouldn't budget what to spend on emergency medicine, the mystics recommend that you don't budget what you'll pay to "heal" your soul- especially before Rosh Hashanah. We could learn something from Andre.

To quote my architect, in his reply email to me after I had forwarded Andre's undertaking to him: "May the whole Elul be like this."

Amen!

When times are tough...

2011-08-25T23:34:00.000+02:00

Times are tough. The markets are a mess. Trust me, trying to raise funds for our new Shul and Jewish Life Centre, I've learned that people are feeling the pinch right now. Logically, this is not a good time to push people for donations.

Logically, that is. But, the Torah takes a different view. This week is when we read G-d's grand promise "Aser te'aser, donate and I will make you wealthy". As the Talmud explains it, Hashem invites you to test Him on this one. Go ahead, make your pledge and then hold Him to his commitment to reimburse.

Fair enough, Tzedokah is a wonderful thing and Hashem appreciates it. You can't help but wonder, though, why G-d didn't just supply every person (and organisation) with everything that they need and we could have avoided the uncomfortable process of raising funds. Why did G-d create haves and have-nots? Surely He has the resources to dole out enough of everything to everyone?

You'll need a crash course in Jewish mysticism to get a handle on this one. Before there was a world, there was only G-d. That makes sense, because G-d is infinite. What actually makes no sense is how we got here. Surely, if G-d is everything and everywhere, that would leave no room for us.

G-d, say the Kabbalists, first created a "vacuum" (a reality where he is completely invisible). Then, He began to radiate a focused laser-beam of energy into that "empty" space, which continually gives life to all Existence. The template of Creation is that there are voids and there are those who fill them. Should you help someone in need, you become G-dlike; filling the hole in their lives.

Conventional thinking recommends a lock-down of your assets when times are tough. Since you don't know what tomorrow brings, you need to hold tightly on to what you have. Difficult times are not the season of giving.

Torah says, when times are tough, fill a void. By giving to a worthy cause, you create a vacuum in your own finances- which invites G-d to do what He has designed His world for- to it. You really cannot ask for a greater blessing than G-d Himself filling in what you're lacking. He tends to be unusually generous.

Too much choice...

2011-08-19T14:36:00.000+02:00

They say that the two most common complaints that modern women have is "nothing to wear" and "not enough cupboard space". Life in the 21st Century is an endless smorgasbord of choice (or Multichoice, as the TV people like to call it), yet our society is significantly dissatisfied. While our grandparents may have grappled with the ravages of poverty, we are statistically more prone to depression. In the shtetl they had few lifestyle choices and, in a sense, lived a simpler life. We flick channels and surf the Web, finding "have to have" retail items that grow out-dated as soon as we purchase them. The Talmud's teaching that "one who has a hundred wants two hundred" could well be the slogan of modern living.

G-d always pre-empts problems with the potential for their resolution. He long ago introduced a perspective to help us through the poor-rich reality that we live today- where the more you have, the less you feel you have. He encoded that lesson in the manna, which He delivered daily for forty years to the Jews in the desert.

When Moses recapped his time with the Jewish people in the desert, he also described the manna. "And G-d afflicted you and let you go hungry and fed you the manna..." On the face of it, Moses is praising G-d for feeding the people at a time when they were starving. However, the commentaries point out that Moses was also expressing how the manna "afflicted" those who ate it. What made the manna unique was that it could taste like anything you could imagined. Sounds amazing, surely, but it was actually frustrating. Firstly, you never saw what you were eating. If you imagined eating a succulent steak, the manna would still look like white crystal (its default appearance). Part of the joy of eating is seeing your food. Secondly, considering that the manna could taste like anything at all, you could be eating and wondering what other option you should be imagining (not all that different an experience from getting your meal at a restaurant and then realising that you actually wanted what the next person got).

Those who ate manna felt wealthy on one hand because they had so much choice, but poor on the other because they realised they could never explore all the available options. That does sound remarkably similar to life in our hi-tech, mass-production age.

There was nothing wrong with the manna; the person eating it simply needed to appreciate his or her own limitations. G-d was offering unlimited opportunity, as He does because He is infinitely good. People, however, can only handle bite-size experiences and can never access the full spectrum of his blessings. So, the trick to enjoying the manna was to appreciate that whatever G-d gave you at that moment was exactly what you needed. On the next day, He would give you the next bit of what you needed. G-d always retains a highly accurate sense of what is right for each person at each moment.

Choice is wonderful, but it can overwhelm you. Learn to trust that G-d sends you what you need as you need it and you become the wealthiest person around.

Largest Jewish Camp Network in World Turns 55 - News Stories - Chabad-Lubavitch News

2011-08-11T22:32:00.000+02:00

Largest Jewish Camp Network in World Turns 55 - News Stories - Chabad-Lubavitch News

Lots of amazing memories from Camp Gan Izzy here in South Africa.

Would you have rioted in Tottenham this week?

2011-08-11T22:22:00.002+02:00

London's ugly underbelly screamed across the media this week in a blaze of arson and looting. Charred and embattled London this week looked like the evil twin of the dignified and regal city that transfixed two billion people in April. A far cry from the elegant formalities of the Royal Wedding, this week's violent protests seem wholly un-British.

Stereotypically, the English are tea-sipping, punctillious prudes who follow the law to a tee. I guess, just as stereotypically, Africans are a lawless bunch of savages. How ironic then to see crime-ridden South Africa issue a travel advisory this week relating to Great Britian.

You can appreciate how emotions run high when the cops kill a man unecessarily. You can appreciate the family's anger and the community's frustration. You can even forgive them spewing anti-establishment vitriole or launching a suit against the police. But anger doesn't justify wholesale damage to property, torching cars and buses or stealing plasma screens for your home in the ensuing chaos.

Perhaps Africa's jungle-law lives somewhere in England too. Perhaps it lives inside every one of us.

Culture and grooming define how you behave in public; they don't modify who you are. The well-spoken, highbrow art critics and Bach-lovers who massacred six million of our people are still fresh in our memories. Push an emotive button in a person and his primal instinct kicks in, shutting down his brain.

I saw it summed up well this morning: "Anger is the wind that extinguishes the lamp of the mind."

To be a Jew is to learn to use your mind to still and direct your emotions. We'll all have flare-ups; moments when our emotive instinct threatens to overwhelm everything that makes sense. Our Holy Temple was destroyed because of one such incident, where a man was mistakenly invited to his enemy's party. On arrival, he was publicly disgraced and unceremoniously ejected. You can appreciate his burning shame, but it didn't justify his extreme reaction: To slander his own people to the Romans, claiming that the Jews were about to launch a revolution. Rome's military response saw the destruction of Jerusalem.

Momentary blinding anger can rip apart a family or destroy a lifelong friendship. Any of us can becoming a Tottenham rioter, smashing to bits those very relationships that keep us human. We owe it to ourselves to learn Judaism's mind-over-impulse techniques so that we can keep our families and community whole.

Why don't we achieve our objectives?

2011-07-28T22:01:00.002+02:00

I spent the last two days in Rustenburg at the South African Rabbinical Association's annual conference. I won't bore you with the details of everything we discussed, dissected and debated, but would like to share an interesting sidebar experience that I shared with a few of the rabbis.

Now this may sound like the start of a poor joke, but there were seven rabbis on a mountain. Well, not quite a mountain...

I guess whoever put together the conference programme figured that rabbis don't get enough excercise and decided to allocate "recreation time" to the itinerary. One of the choices in that slot was to hike the nearby kloof. I joined a group of other rabbis who had temporarily traded in their fedoras for baseball caps, and set off into the compelling serenity of nature.

A hotel employee directed us to the start of the trail and off we went. Only (as we were to discover much later), he hadn't shown us to the correct spot, and the "trail" he had pointed out was no trail at all.

We eagerly set off, quickly disappearing into the bush. We passed a troop of baboons and headed along what appeared to be a rather unused trail. Within ten minutes, the "trail" began to rise steeply and became steadily more difficult yo discern. We very soon found ourselves slipping on loose stones and mud, as we tried to clamber up the steep incline.

Two rabbis turned back.

Soon enough, another joined them. We remaining rabbis had to decide if we would forge on or head home. After all, we would soon be due back for the next conference session.

As I considered heading back to relax between sessions, I figured that if I could make it to the top of Mt Meru or across the endless staricases of the Great Wall, I could surely make it to the Kloof's shimmering waterfall somewhere up ahead. I conferred with the other rabbis and suggested that perhaps we were simply on the wrong side of the river. If we could cross the stream, perhaps we would find the proper path after all.

So, we slip-slid back down, navigated over the rock-strewn water and, sure enough, there was the path. It only took us another fifteen minutes to reach the pristine waterfall. We spent the better part of an hour perched on a huge boulder under the towering crags and circling birds, listening to the cascading water and inhaling tranquility. It was beautiful.

We snapped a few photos so we could show the other rabbis what they had missed and headed back, joking about how this conference had, in fact, highlighted the importance of staying "on the path".

It also illustrated why 90% of people don't achieve their goals. Often, they set off in the wrong direction to start with. When that happens, people commonly retreat, rather than look for an alternative path to reach their destination. Most importantly, people too often give up when the incline gets too challenging. And they miss the true beauty of what can only be found after you have pushed forward, despite your mind telling you to head home.

Do you have good eyes?

2011-07-08T16:45:00.000+02:00

Earlier this week, I was listening to a recording of one of the Rebbe's farbrengens on my iPod. The Rebbe mentioned the American "custom" of telling a joke in a speech, and then proceeded to tell the following story:

There was once a noted Torah scholar who prided himself in his acute ability to correct other people's mistakes. He had an eagle-eye for errors and was always quick to point them out. When he eventually passed away, the Heavenly welcoming committee asked him what he had excelled at during his lfietime. The gentleman proudly replied that he had been quite a scholar.

"In that case," the welcoming angel decided, "You should give us all a shiur, so that we can appreciate your abilities."

"I have a better idea," the scholar retorted. "Please tell me, who would you consider the brightest individual here in Heaven?"

"That would be G-d Himself," the angel responded.

"In that case," our misguided rabbi suggested, "Let's ask G-d to give a shiur and I will point our whatever He gets wrong!"

As a young boy, the Previous Rebbe once asked his father why G-d gave us each two eyes. His father explained that the right, or kind eye is for looking at other people; the left, or critical eye is for looking at ourselves.

If there is one thing that we Chabadniks learned from the Rebbe, it was to look for the positive in every person. A man once asked the Rebbe how the Talmud could claim that even a sinful Jew is full of good deeds as a pomegranate is full of seeds. Surely, the fellow reasoned, if someone is a sinner, they have no mitzvos. The Rebbe gently suggested that the question should be phrased the other way around: "If every Jew is called 'full of good deeds', how can any Jew be called a 'sinner'?"

Bilam, the anti-Semitic prophet who takes centre-stage in this week's Torah portion, took the opposite view. He dedicated his life to finding and highlighting the negative. He was an expert at exposing the flaws and weaknesses of people. He prided Himself in his ability to detect the brief millisecond each day when G-d gets angry (i.e. he ignored the 99.9% of the day when G-d is benevolent and kind).

Bilam was blind in one eye, says the Talmud. He was incapable of seeing goodness and could only detect rot. You could say he only had a left eye. According to Pirkei Avos, Bilam and Avraham were polar opposites. One of the differences between them was that Avraham could see only good in everyone; Bilam could see only bad.

But, even Bilam turned at the end. When he observed the Jewish encampment in the desert, it changed his own views. He saw how the tent formations were set up so that no family could see into its neighbour's tent. The Jewish camp was designed to block people from seeing each other's dirty laundry.

This had such a profound effect on Bilam that he offered one of the most powerful blessings every given to the Jewish people. His penetrating words are now part of our daily davening.

Today's media loves to expose the dirt on anyone and everyone. Journalists merrily spill the dirt on anyone, while society plays judge and jury, writing people off even before the facts emerge. In our own communities, unsubstantiated rumours snowball from school parking lot gossip to Shabbos table main course.

G-d gave us two eyes. Unlike Bilam, we're endowed with the ability, and charged with the responsibility to seek the good in everyone.

When we make the effort to look well at others, G-d makes sure to look at us in a good light too.

Gimmel Tammuz- collage

2011-07-04T22:41:00.002+02:00

Speaking Volumes

2011-07-04T22:02:00.000+02:00

A beautiful article: MOMENT MAGAZINE

Are you being followed?

2011-06-28T11:01:00.000+02:00

Last week, a friend of mine stopped at a tyre outlet for a routine tyre-swap on his car. When he returned to his vehicle, he immediately noticed that his iPad was gone from the passenger seat, where he thought he had left it. Unconcerned, and figuring he may have moved it unwittingly and forgotten where he'd put it, he flipped on his iPhone and launched the "Find my iPad" app. The GPS-based programme quickly indicated that his iPad was on the move. My friend jumped into his car, chased his iPad and soon caught up with it, in someone else's car. Can you imagine the thief's surprise when the iPad's owner arrived at his car-window, discovered the iPad that he'd been sitting on and demanded an explanation? He couldn't fathom what had blown his cover.

I've recently noticed a slew of news stories about laptop thieves getting bust by the computer's owners remotely activating their laptop's camera to expose the thief. Either GPS or IP-logon tracking then allow the cops to know who to apprehend and where.

George Orwell's "Big brother" is coming to life. In 1949, when he wrote the classic, people could conceive of a dominating regime that would spie on its citizens. But, could they have envisaged a world where everyone tracks everyone? Even Orwell could not have imagined the ever-exposed world of reality TV, paparazzi and social networking. Neither did he imagine a world of satellite tracking or a personal digital history. In his day there was no technology that could have recorded billions of people's movements. The sheer manpower needed to implement Thought Police would have, in reality, been prohibitive.

Logically, a super-snooper society would have had to focus its attention on "people of interest", potential revolutionaries, insurgents, terrorists or criminals. Essentially, the CIA, Mossad or KGB did just that. They honed their skill, technology and personnel on tracking "valuable" targets. Tabloid media focused their time and attention on politicians, celebs, tycoons and socialites. And the ordinary person remained anonymous.

As Thomas Carlyle noted, "The history of the world is but the biography of great men". Or, at least, interesting people.

Not anymore. You no longer need to be someone significant to have your life tracked. Your phone, your car's GPS, online travel plans, Twitter, Facebook, Google searching and a dozen other technologies ensure that your activities are recorded. Some experts even warn that people may one day want to create a new personal identity to escape their embarrassing online activity as youngsters. That's how it is nowadays. You probably don't even realise it, but just about everything that you do is recorded somewhere in the great digital cloud. It could come back to bite you at any time.

2000 years ago, the Talmudic sages already knew this. Ok, they didn't have Internet, credit card trails or GPS, but they did know that the Great Database In The Heavens records every move each of us makes. It's all stored on a server that never crashes.

One day, G-d will tap on your window and confront whatever secrets you're sitting on. Make sure your record looks good, or you may be as flummoxed as the fellow who stole my friend's iPad and is still wondering how on earth he traced him.

Family planning- an inspiration

2011-06-23T22:10:00.002+02:00

It all depends on how you see it

2011-06-16T22:31:00.001+02:00

Life depends on how you see it. Even if f that sounds daunting, it is an extremely valuable concept to keep in mind. The way you see your life quite literally defines how it will pan out.

Take as an example one of Jewish history's greatest disasters, the debacle of the spies sent by the Israelites to the Promised Land. We all know, and will review this Shabbos, how the spies (except for Joshua and Caleb) reported that the Jewish nation would never reach the Promised Land. The nation quickly bought into their gloomy prognosis ("oy vey" is the Jewish way) and cried bitterly over what they believed could only be a suicidal attempt to settle the Land.

What set off the spies' fears was what they witnessed while scouting the country. Each time the spies entered a city, they saw a large funeral procession. Quickly, the reconnoisance team concluded the "obvious": This is a land where people die. In their report to the nation they would describe Israel as "a land that eats up its inhabitants". That was enough to unseat the people completely. Just about everybody bewailed their terrible fate and demanded a return to Egypt. And G-d responded with the parental, "If you cry for no good reason, I'll give you a reason to cry". Every complainer would die before he could reach the Promised Land. And the eve of crying went down in history as the dreaded Ninth of Av, anniversary of almost every significant Jewish tragedy.

Ironically, what the spies interpreted as disaster was actually G-d's plan to keep them safe while on their mission. He had decided to distract the population of each town with the death of one of its prominent citizens. Everyone would be so caught up in the formalities of burying these people that they wouldn't cast a glance in the spies' direction. G-d envisaged keeping the spies alive and safe. The spies saw death.

It's easy to keep a rosy outlook when things proceed according to plan. When they teeter (G-d forbid)- health issues, financial stress or family crises- we slip into "gloomy forecast". We seem to need a secret switch to flip us back into the optimistic approach. How do you look confidentally at bleak predictions?

One man quieted the tumult long enough to get his message across. Caleb, himself one of the spies, watched the growing mob-despair and realised that nobody could wedge a rational word in anywhere. Instead, he announced: "Oh, so do you think that this is all that Moshe did to us?" The crowds paused long enough to hear what they expected to be more fuel for their fury. "He also," continued Caleb, "Took us out of Egypt, split the sea and provided Manna for us in the desert." In a single sentence, he had changed perspective. He had reminded the people that Moshe had, with G-d's help, gotten them out of a slew of sticky situations. He had previously proven his worth and could be relied upon to pull them through their next challenge.

Caleb knew how to flip the optimisim switch. What he told the Jews in the desert applies equally to us. We can all identify moments in our lives that "went right". A fortuitous business meeting, a "chance" medical checkup that saved a life or simply a time when we found a convenient parking space is a moment in our lives where G-d came through for us. It is healthy to review these events from time to time, just to remind ourselves who's Boss, that He knows what He's doing and that He delivers. Remember those moments and it becomes much easier to imagine that what is still to come will be OK too.

We choose how to see what has happened in our lives. We choose to see how things will happen in our lives. Whatever perspective we choose, it defines our lives.

Are you getting your tattoo tomorrow?

2011-06-07T13:05:00.000+02:00

Do you plan to get a tattoo?

A few weeks ago, I popped into a nearby quick-shop to buy a bottle of water. As I stood on line waiting to pay, I read the neck of the person in front of me.

Yes, his neck.

In bold, calligraphic letters, this fellow had tattooed the Shema on the nape of his neck. I got the sense that he was stretching and flexing especially for me to see. He was doing a sort of "Hey! Rabbi, do see my Jewish pride?" number. Tattoos aren't kosher, but there is no doubt that his was intended to celebrate, not undermine Judaism.

I've since shared this story with a few people and have discovered that Hebrew/ Torah tattoos are quite popular. I'm told there are even some celebs who sport Hebrew on their bodies. I'm told that a very proud local Jew has had a Magen David emblazoned over his heart, to show his love for Yiddishkeit. Would I do it? No. But, those graffitied Jews make a you think.

Torah is classically presented as ink on parchment; be it a book or the sacred Torah scroll. Ink and paper/ parchment remain two separate entities (the ink + paper) that combine to create a document. You could chemically remove the ink, which proves that the ink and the paper remain separate. They say you can remove a tattoo using laser, but there's no question that body-art is more permanent than ink on paper. My "friend with the Shema on his neck" has etched its message on his person more indelibly than most Jews I know.

Tomorrow is Shavuot, the day G-d gave us- and gives us again- His Torah. When G-d gives the Torah, it's not the ink-on-paper type; it's the etched into stone version. On this holiday, He empowers to engrave His message onto our souls. All you need to do is get to Shul to hear the Ten Commandments tomorrow. You arrive and G-d brands you with His message.

So, are you going to get yourself a tattoo tomorrow?

Did you have the urge to see Osama dead?

2011-05-16T23:20:00.000+02:00

Got a Facebook account?

Then you'll know all about the torrent of invitations to see photos of Osama bin Laden dead that have invaded the social networking site. I didn't take the bait. That was just as well, because those who did unleashed a Trojan message that invaded their friends' list and posting itself on everyone else's walls, luring them to the trap of those "graphic photos".

Monday and Tuesday, the debate raged over whether or not to publish the dead Osama pics. Today, the White House officially announced that they would not make the kill-shots public. Personally, I'm glad they made that decision, because I'm too squeamish for blood 'n guts. But, there are many others who want to see proof that global enemy #1 is actually dead, and still others who want to revel in his death.

Over 56 million Americans flipped on their TV sets to watch President Obama announce that Bin Laden had been laid to waste. Considering that it was almost midnight for many of them, that's a massive viewership. An episode of the wildly popular American Idol series "only" grabs about 25 million viewers. Even Obama's inauguration clocked in at under 50 million viewers. Americans seem obsessed with this story- and they want to see every detail. Obama himself (along with VP Biden and Secretary of State Clinton) purportedly watched the special forces' assault live.

What's with the American people and their urge to witness misfortune? Al Qaeda played on the American fixation with live TV when they slammed United flight 175 into the second of the Twin Towers in front of the disbelieving eyes of millions.

It's not only the Americans who harbour this urge to see it for themselves, it's a global phenomenon. Traffic backs up regularly on our roads as people "rubberneck" when passing car accidents. Online videos or photos of disasters clock up incredibly high hit rates (think of the Japanese tsunami footage). Even when we know that the images will traumatize us, we look anyway (like the recent Fogel family murder in Itamar, Israel). Right now, hundreds of Jews on "March of the Living" are visiting the most horrid places on Earth, Nazi concentration camps and mass graves. We don't suffice with reading reports, we insist on witnessing events personally.

Napolean, Hannibal and Alexander the Great successfully directed complex military campaigns over thousands of kilometres in foreign territory, relying on sketchy, dated information procured by scouts and couriers. Back then, you often heard news long after it had happened. The Talmud describes how the residents of Tur Malka in Israel celebrated victory over the Romans on one side of town, unaware that the Roman legions had destroyed the other side of town and were mere metres away from killing them all.

Until the 20th century, you saw perhaps half a dozen significant events in your lifetime, possibly heard about double as many and remained blissfully unaware of most of what went on in the battles, famines or epidemics anyway further than 100km from home.

Our great-grandparents picked up stale stories in newspapers. Our grandparents heard somewhat fresh reports on the wireless. Our parents picked up the day's events during the 8 o' clock news on the Telly. We have access to a dazzling array of multimedia formats that stream directly onto the devices we carry in our pockets, so that we can be updated by the second.

Reality TV, streaming video, online cams and social networking have turned society voyeuristic. We expect to see. We enjoy seeing. We want to see. If we can't see, we feel robbed.

The classical model of study always relied on hearing. You heard a lecture or listened to a teacher and that was how you learned. Studying from a book would follow a similar cognitive process to hearing- taking in one byte of information at a time.

What you hear is never as real as what you see.

There is only one change that will occur when Moshiach comes. Instead of just hearing; we will start to see. We always hear about G-d and about how great He is, but we see a world that seems devoid of a Boss and a life that lacks meaning. We've heard all the religious rhetoric before, but what we see contradicts what we hear. Moshiach will usher in a time when we see differently. It will be a time when we see realities, rather than study concepts. Then we will see the whole picture and life will start to make sense. Then we won't have to rely on hearsay about what is and isn't true, who is or isn't right. We'll see it for ourselves.

Society is now primed for the Moshiach paradigm shift. We are the generation that won't settle for what they tell us, we want to see. Psychologically, we're there. The time has come for G-d to allow us to see what He's been hiding all this time.

How to celebrate Osama's death

2011-05-15T20:31:00.000+02:00

When Americans took to the streets to celebrate Osama bin Laden's death, something didn't quite sit right with me. Initially, I put it down to two issues that didn't add up. One was the undeniable similarity between their behaviour and Arab jubilation when the Twin Towers came down on 9/11. The other was the patently illogical joy at a "safer world", when the threat of terrorism remains palpable even after Osama. Besides, since when do Jews celebrate our enemies' downfalls?

Earlier this week, the "was it right to celebrate" conversation came up again. As we debated the merits or otherwise of America's joyous outpouring, a fresh perspective emerged.

Pesach recalls how Pharaoh tried to annihilate us, and failed. Purim commemorates Haman's unsuccessful attempt at Jewish genocide. During these and other similar holidays, we don't thank G-d for killing our adversaries, but for saving us.

In fact, after G-d drowned the Egyptians in the sea, we sang a song of praise to thank Him for rescuing us. The angels wanted to sing a song of praise at that time too, but G-d stopped them. We had reason to sing, because we had just been saved and needed to thank G-d. The angels had never been in danger, so G-d refused to allow them to sing at a time when so many people- evil as they were- died.

When the Jews sang to G-d at the sea, it was not a flippant, break-out-the-bubbly-in-the- street affair. If you acknowledge that G-d has made a miracle for you, you acknowledge that you owe Him something in return. After all, if He has kept you alive, He clearly expects you to achieve something.

After being held up in my home at gunpoint a week before Rosh Hashanah (and a few days before 9/11), I remember thinking that G-d clearly wanted to send me a message. My assailant could have pulled the trigger at any moment (Johannesburg has more daily murders than you care to imagine), so what stopped him? My conclusion: G-d didn't allow him to. Standing in Shul on that Rosh Hashanah, reflecting on the past and planning for the future, I felt that if He had kept me alive I had better ensure my life would be meaningful.

When a person survives a life-threatening experience (crime, accident or illness), Jewish law mandates that they say a thanksgiving blessing. That blessing reads: "Blessed are you G-d... who kindly does good for those who do not deserve it." G-d does miracles because He cares about us, not because we have earned them. He destroys our enemies because He loves us, not because we deserve His protection.

You want to celebrate because one terrifying villain is no longer? Fine. But, don't rush out into the streets, yelling and toasting his death. A Jew should respond with a show of dedication to G-d; a meaningful statement of "thank you for what you have done for us, now we owe you."

The cost to catch Bin Laden

2011-05-08T22:17:00.000+02:00

Here's one of the hundreds of Bin Laden jokes floating around the Internet: "It took the most powerful, technologically advanced country in the world hundreds of millions of dollars and over a decade of searching through the Afghani mountains to find one man in his home." Exactly how much the Bin Laden hunt cost the US is unclear, but it was no cheap operation.

It's a week later and the media remains obsessed with the details of the special forces' operation, the machinations of Al Qaeda network and with the foreboding of retaliatory attacks on Western interests. Even William and Kate's most-watched-ever wedding has receded to a page-two story, overshadowed by the specter of the world's arch-terrorist. The world has abandoned the exuberance of a fairy-tale couple to fixate on the hate-filled architect of global terror.

Typical human behaviour.

Did the US squander disproportionate time, expertise and money in the search for Osama? Who knows. But, each of us blows energy, time and emotion on the little "Bin Laden" who lives in our heads. He's the guy who always bombs your plans to become more disciplined, to improve your relationships or to connect with G-d. Whenever you're primed to make progress, he blasts away at your resolve.

So, you start searching for Osama.

"Why do I always fail?", "What causes me to slide backwards when I thought I was making progress?"

You enlist expert help, spend time in therapy, retrace your childhood and dissect your personality. Over years, you spend hundreds of hours, fortunes of energy and an heaps of money hunting your nemesis. You may eventually find and eliminate him. But you might just expend time, energy and money only to remain frustrated.

Judaism doesn't recommend seek-and-destroy when it comes to internal works. The Torah's advice is to build the positive inside yourself. Do more. Learn more. Help others more. Invest in growth and positivity and your inner-enemy will dissolve.

Obsession with bad guys is good for the Navy SEALS. You concentrate on growing the good within yourself.

Is it okay to celebrate Osama's death?

2011-05-02T23:46:00.000+02:00

Osama Bin Laden is dead. Today, after ten years of trying, US Navy Seals and CIA operatives killed him in his compound in Pakistan.

Americans are elated. Outside the White House, they sang, cheered and waved flags. At Ground Zero, a decade's worth of pent-up emotions exploded into joy and calls of "Obama got Osama!". Barack Obama announced that "Justice has been done" and European Union Parliament president, Jerzy Burzek declared "We woke up in a safer world".

A safer world? That remains to be seen. Meanwhile, the burning question for many is "Should we be celebrating?". Street-jubilation and flag-waving is distasteful to us. We've seen it too often on Palestinian streets, the flags, the singing, the gunshots as they've celebrated Jewish deaths. We are a nation obsessed with life, fixated on peace and repulsed by killing. Yes, we're glad he's gone. Yes, we abhor the terror that the Bin Laden's of the world perpetuate. But, do we celebrate death- albeit of our enemies?

"When your enemy falls, do not rejoice, lest G-d sees your glee and directs His anger against you," warns the Torah.

Jewish holidays don't celebrate the deaths of our enemies, but the rescue of our people. While we recall the demise of Haman on Purim and of the Egyptians on Pesach, we focus our attention on the fact that our nation was saved, rather than rejoice at their suffering.

We've just concluded Pesach. On other festivals, we sing Hallel, a series of praises to thank G-d for His miracles. On the last two days of Pesach, however, we only recite an abridged version of these praises, because these days recall when G-d drowned the Egyptians. G-d even stopped His angels from singing praises at that time, because He insisted that it would be wrong to sing while people are dying. Remember, we're talking about the Egyptians, a depraved nation of slave-drivers who were our nation's arch-enemies for two centuries. Still, no singing.

Likewise, King David, in Psalm 104, calls for sins- not sinners- to be eradicated.

Exactly twenty years ago today, the Lubavitcher Rebbe challenged us, his followers, and the entire Jewish world in an unprecedented way. He made an impassioned public address in which he said: "I have done everything in my power to bring Moshiach, now do everything in your power to bring him!" That Osama was killed exactly twenty years later to the day is no coincidence. But, it gives us no license to celebrate.

As the media that trumpeted Osama's death, it also reported heightened security and warned of possible anti-West retaliation. One tentacle of the terror-beast is gone, but the beast is as fearsome as ever. Now is a good time to remind ourselves that Purim only became a festival after the war was won, not as soon as Haman had been killed. The "war on terror" has not yet been won. We don't have time to celebrate Osama's death because the threat of what he represents is very much alive.

When the Rebbe spoke of bringing Moshiach, he referred to a time of global peace; a time where goodwill pervades society and all people focus on Divine-connection, rather than vice, jealousy and hatred. He spoke of a world where sins dissolve and sinners come round; where you no longer fight for liberty and safety, because the perpetrators of violence "get it" and put their weapons away forever. The Rebbe insisted that we dare not rest until that idyllic world becomes reality.

If good men still need to kill to free the world of evil, we're not yet ready to celebrate. There is still much work to do.

----

(Click here for another perspective on this question. Excellent article.)

Is this what Moshiach will look like?

2011-05-02T22:53:00.000+02:00

Friday buzzed non-stop with William and Kate's royal wedding. I didn't join the 2 billion strong TV audience (don't have a TV) or the half-billion streaming-Internet viewers to witness that glamorous spectacle. I would have liked to have watched the military bands, Bentley's and Rolls Royces and the RAF fly-past. The actual ceremony held no interest for me. Besides, which rabbi has leisure time on a Friday?

Chatting to a member of our community later in the day, I had a twang of regret. He animatedly described the procession, throngs of well-wishers, Union Jack-lined streets and exuberance of the crowds.

"They really got excited," he explained, "for the Brits, this is their thing. They love the whole monarchy, pomp and ceremony bit. It's what defines the English. Today was their day; something they would have looked forward to for years."

He had a point. Every country has its sense of identity, its national pride and landmark moments that generate wholesale joy among its citizens.

What he said next is what got me thinking.

"To me, this was a dress-rehearsal for Moshiach," he remarked. "I mean, he will be our king, we'll line the streets and cheer- or dance- as he parades along, flanked by Judaism's great personalities and escorted by the world's military elite (all defunct except for their role as honour guard), his every move flashed around the world for all to see."

To be honest, I hadn't thought of the royal wedding hoopla in that light. He certainly had a point.

The Talmud says, "Always take the opportunity to see a king, even a gentile king. If you merit, you will get to discern the difference between their kings and ours". According to the commentaries, the Talmud means that you will appreciate the greatness of Moshiach after you have seen the kings of the nations.

Thanks to YouTube, I did get to watch the procession highlights. I think I'm all ready for Moshiach now.

You didn't crack an invite to Will & Kate's wedding?

2011-04-29T08:45:00.000+02:00

I hear you didn't make the cut for today's Royal Wedding.

That's a shame, but you can take comfort in the fact that neither were Tony Blair, Gordon Brown or the Obamas (Swaziland's King Mswati is on the guest-list, mind you). Besides, you're welcome to join a royal wedding later if you'd like. (No, I'm not referring to our local "royal" wedding celebrations of Dudu Zuma either.)

London this morning will be aglow with all the glamour and extravagance befitting a royal affair. Weather permitting, the couple will travel from the service to Buckingham Palace in the historic 1902 State Landau carriage built for King Edward VII's coronation. Over 1000 military personnel, in ceremonial uniform, will line the streets en route and an honour guard will greet the couple on arrival. Various army, navy and RAF bands will play as the couple passes them. A fly-past of World War II fighter planes and modern jets will swoop overhead once the new couple has arrived.

William and Kate's nuptials promise to be a riveting spectacle, whether you watch it from the inside, from the London streets or on your TV at home.

But, as I said, if you're not on the VIP list, don't fret. You're invited to a royal wedding too. Come join us this evening. There'll be less paparazzi and glitz, but a more spectacular procession and a more royal couple.

Shabbos (as you can see from the famous "Lecha Dodi") is called both a bride and a queen or a royal bride. Soon after Creation, G-d commented that each day has a partner (Sunday-Friday, Monday-Thursday, Tuesday-Wednesday) except for Shabbos. His intention was to pair us with Shabbos, transforming both of us into royalty for 24 hours a week.

Kabbalah teaches that, as Shabbos enters, processions of angels rise to the Heavens and return here to Earth. Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev described a "great parade" that gets underway on High as we say the Friday night prayers. According to the Zohar, the spiritual excitement of Shabbos is so intense that all negative energy is suspended. Likewise, the Talmud notes the "Gehinnom" shuts down and that blessings flow for the whole week ahead.

William and Kate are expected to have 2 billion TV viewers and 400 million Internet users watch their wedding. They'll have their day of glory today- and likely in the media for a good few days to come. But, considering that a single angel comprises the energy and complexity of 1/3 of our entire universe, and that we have two of them accompany us home from Shul on Friday night (not to mention the parading angels in Shul), it makes sense to capitalise on the amazing wedding procession we have access to every single week.

Yes, it has gone cold. Yes, it's dark now by the time Shul ends. Yes, we work long-draining days during the week and flop down exhausted on Friday evening. Yes, we plan to be at Shul on Shabbos morning. But, G-d puts on a royal wedding for us every Friday night, so surely we should be there!

Can you imagine what would happen if Kate didn't show up this morning?

He's YOUR child!

2011-04-24T17:25:00.000+02:00

One of the central, yet often overlooked, chapters of the Seder night revolves around four sons. They are a diverse bunch- a wise, rebellious, simple and silent son who all come to hear the story of the Exodus. I know some people glance around the Seder table and mentally rate the guests according to this list (Jeremy's a genius, definitely the wise son, Harold's rather simple and Dean's biting sarcasm qualifies him as the wicked one...).

But, I suspect that we get so caught up in the myth of the characters that we forget the Torah introduces them as "your son". Pesach is a time for parent-to-child education, in line with the Torah's instruction "You shall tell (the story of Exodus) to your child". So, the Torah had you in mind when it listed the "son" archetypes.

You may have a wise son (which Jewish parent doesn't?), he's gifted and frets if his grade drops below an A+. You know your budding Einstein needs to be stimulated, so you sign him up for extra maths, public speaking and a plethora of extra-curricular activities to keep his mind buzzing.

Or your son might be the school rascal, a troublemaker who spends more time in the principal's office than on the playground. He has ADHD appended to a string of other abbreviated disorders that make him a teacher's nightmare. You pack him full of Ritalin or whatever other miracles drugs the experts recommend and hope to dull him to a manageable behaviour level so he can get an education.

You might have a simple son, who you schlep off to therapies after school because of his learning difficulties, low muscle-tone and poor fine-motor skills.

Your son could be the silent type; one who doesn't challenge you with the depth of the genius nor with the barbs of rebellious chutzpah. You plonk a PS3 into his hands or seat him in front of the TV and he's happy.

Whatever your child(ren)'s nature, today's world allows you to outsource their needs.

Pesach, in typical forward-thinking Torah fashion, says you need to remember to be your child's parent. Sure, you're entitled to use the world's offerings to help your child, but never forget that you are their parent. The Torah addresses parents in the singular: "You teach your child." Pesach reminds us that we dare not abdicate our responsibility to take a personal interest in each of our children, to recognize that each of them is an individual.

Talk to your child on his terms. Listen to what he says and respond appropriately. And if he doesn't talk, coax him into conversation.

Ben-Gurion University students develop thought-controlled, hands-free computer for the disabled

2011-04-22T11:33:00.000+02:00

And to think that the University of Johannesburg decided to boycott this university...

Ben-Gurion University students develop thought-controlled, hands-free computer for the disabled

Shvitzing for Pesach

2011-04-13T15:18:00.002+02:00

Pesach. Again.

Oh, but this one's been different to all others (cliched as that may sound).

You know it's that time of year when the kids hum mah nishtanah, your credit card burns brighter than your chometz bonfire (if only Pick 'n Pay would realise Pesach products aren't supposed to inflate) and you drag out the once-a-year dishes (hey, I forgot we had a one-hand, sixteen-mode grater/peeler!).

But, this year is different. Our family's been extra priveleged to get to play the part of the Jewish slaves, thanks to the unplanned departure of our domestic help. Working my way through the house, I discovered that our maid had actually checked out about six months back (judging by my forensic dust-audit) and only owned up to it a couple of weeks ago (maybe she had a twang of Jewish guilt about being paid for doing nothing). Either way, my kids are dusting bookshelves and I'm scrubbing walls and floors.

I'm not about to glorify my newfound cleaner role, but it has been enlightening. Our grandparents in the Shtetl surely had smaller homes to clean, but they did it all themselves. Thank G-d, we have the luxury of cleaning help, but perhaps with it we've come to miss some of the Pesach experience. You can definitely feel liberated at your Seder table without doing "back-breaking" (or physio-inducing) labour beforehand. Pesach is the time to liberate your spirit, which is just as challenging if you live in Sandton or in Alex. No, it's not the reliving our ancestors' experience that I'm feeling in the grit and dust.

Wash-rag and window-cleaner in hand, I recall a story from Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev. One Rosh Hashanah, after blowing the Shofar, he called his congregation to attention. If you read the small print in the Machzor, you'll find a little Kabbalaesque passage after Shofar-blowing. There we ask Hashem to release the angels that we've created through the variety of Shofar blasts, and to bless us for a good year.

"What happens," asked Rabbi Levi Yitzchak, "If we haven't focused properly on the Rosh Hashanah service and we've only produced weak angels. Will we receive incomplete blessings for the New Year?"

As the crowd swallowed hard, the rebbe continued, "Kashrak is the acrostic for the sounds of the Shofar. It also stands for kratzen (scraping), sheiben (polishing), reiben (scrubbing) and kasheren (kashering dishes). If the angels produced by the shofar aren't powerful enough to elicit blessings for the year, the angels produced by the exertion of Pesach preparations are certainly powerful enough to bring us blessings for the year!"

I take comfort in that. I'm not attacking dust-bunnies, I'm generating angels.

You can't live Judaism in your head. Ours is not a religion of philosophy or theosophy; it's about action. If you want to do what Hashem wants, be prepared to break a sweat and get your hands dirty. Life will throw you many moments where you need to pause and help someone else. Those chances will usually be inconvenient and often take you places (physical, emotional or philosophical) that are uncomfortable. Next time G-d sends you that challenging person or that tedious task, consider that Judaism is about turning dust into angels.

And, if sweeping the floor to prepare for Pesach is so powerful, imagine how invigorating Pesach itself must be. If I can reach the heights of Rosh Hashanah, or higher, with my dustpan, I must surely be able to access immense blessing at the Seder itself. As the Previous Rebbe was told by his father, "All the doors of Heaven are open on Pesach night, make sure to access the right things".

Pesach (Passover) Guide

2011-04-13T15:17:00.000+02:00

Pesach has got to be the Jewish holiday with the longest to-do list. Here's a simplified version of what you need to get done:

PRE-PESACH:

SPRING CLEANING
In the Northern Hemisphere, Pesach is in the spring. The frenzied Chametz-purge that we undertake must be the origin of having an annual clean-up. Technically, you could keep treif food in your house during the year, but you may not own a crumb of bread over Pesach. That's why we get all OCD about cleaning every corner of the house.

GOT CHAMETZ?
We all know bread is forbidden on Pesach. Other Pesach contraband includes anything made from wheat, barley, spelt, oats or rye that's been allowed to rise (pasta included) or ferment (whiskey, beer). You'll need to check ingredients of medicines and cosmetics too.

SELL YOUR BREAD PORTFOLIO
You can't own chametz over Pesach, so if you plan to keep (locked away) some bread, biscuits or Black Label for after the holiday, make sure to sell it to a non-Jew. You can sell yours online at www.chabad.org.

HELP SOMEONE MAKE PESACH
Pesach is not a cheap time of year. When you stock up on your matzah, wine and macaroons, remember to contribute something towards those who can't afford their own Pesach.

HAND-BAKED MATZAH
Get yourself some bona fide hand-baked Matzah for the Seder night. It will add some authentic (lack of) flavour to your Pesach.

KITCHEN-KASHER
You'll need to clean and "kasher" your kitchen and utensils to be usable on Pesach (some appliances and utensils can't be kashered). Click here for a guide to what can and can't be kashered for Pesach and how to go about it.

BIG SHABBOS
The Shabbos before Pesach is called Shabbos Hagadol, the "great" Shabbos. It's the day the Egyptian firstborns caught wind of the fact they were all going to die, causing an Egyptian uprising (yes, already back then) against their dictator (Pharaoh). The rabbi is supposed to review the Pesach laws on Shabbos, and we read part of the Haggadah after Mincha.

SEEK & DESTROY
On the night before Pesach (Sunday night) have someone hide 10 pieces of bread (good idea to wrap them to avoid scattering crumbs) around the house (also a good idea to jot down where each piece is, in case you forget). Grab a feather, wooden spoon, paper bag and candle and set out to find the 10 pieces (and any other chametz you might have missed). Start with the blessing: "Boruch atoh Adonoy Elohaynu Melech ho-oilom asher kid'shonu bemitzvoisov vetzivonu ull biur chometz".
Once you've collected all 10 pieces put them aside to be burnt (with any other leftover bread etc.) on Monday morning.
After the search and when burning chametz, say the "nullification" of chametz (basically: "Any chametz I've missed is of no value to me").
After that's all done, no eating Chametz 'till Pesach's over.

NO BREAKFAST?
Firstborn boys (or their dads, if they're under 13) should fast on the day before Pesach (Monday). That's out of respect for the fact that G-d spared them when he killed the Egyptian firstborns.
You can dodge the fast by coming to Shul in the morning to hear a "siyum" (conclusion of a tractate of Talmud), which is a reason to celebrate (and eat).

PESACH PROPER:

SPECIAL SERVICE
We add "Hallel" (thanksgiving prayers to Hashem) on each night of Pesach.

SEDER SETUP
On first night, have everything ready to go before you head off to Shul. That way, you can get down to business ASAP when you come home.
On second night, you may only start preparing for the Seder after dark.

SEDER PLATE

Place 3 Matzos on top of each other and the Seder plate above them. On the Seder plate you have:

Bone = roasted chicken neck with most of the meat removed. (Top right of the plate)

Egg = hard-boiled or roasted. (Top left)

Maror = romaine lettuce and fresh horseradish. (Set up in two places, middle & middle bottom)

Charoses = ground nuts, apples/ pears & wine (pasty, not wet). (Bottom right)

Karpas = slice of raw onion/ parsley/ boiled potato. (Bottom left)

SEDER 15 STEP PROGRAMME

Kadesh- Kiddush.
Each person says their own brocha for the wine, even if they don't say Kiddush. This is the first of the four cups.
[Each of the 4 cups = full cup, in one shot, leaning to left. Minimum cup size is 90ml)

Urchatz
Wash your hands (three times on the right, three on the left).
Say no Brocha.

Karpas
Dip the onion/potato/parsley into the salt water.
Say Baruch... Borei Pri HoAdomo and eat a little.

Yachatz
Break the middle Matza in two.
Put the larger piece away for the Afikomen.
Leave the smaller piece between the other Matzos.

Magid
Pour cup #2 and read the story of Pesach (Discuss its contemporary relevance).

Rochtzo
Wash your hands (three times on the right, three on the left).
Say the normal Brocha for washing hands.

Motzi
Say the Brocha for Matzah (same as for bread), while holding 2½ Matzos in both hands.

Matzah
Say the special Brocha for Matzah (Boruch... achilas Matzah), while holding only the top 1½ Matzos in both hands.
Lean to the left and eat about 1½ Matzos (minimum 3/4 of a Matzah) from the top & middle Matzos.
Try to finish this Matzah in 4 minutes.

Maror
Say the special Brocha for Maror (Boruch... al achilas maror).
Eat about three medium-sized Romaine lettuce leaves with some raw horseradish.
Dip the Maror into Charoses.
Don't lean.

Koraich
Eat ¾ of the bottom Matzah with about three romaine lettuce leaves and horseradish.
Dip the Maror into Charoses. Shake off the Charoses.
Lean to your left while eating.

Shulchan Orech
Eat some of the boiled egg, dipped in salt water.
You made it! Now you can eat the meal (or can you? After all that Matzah...)
This is also a great time to discuss the Pesach story and its modern message in detail.

Tzofun
Bring the afikomen out of its hiding place and enjoy another 1½ Matzos (minimum ¾ of a Matzah).
Lean to your left.

Beirach
Pour cup #3 of wine as well as Elijah's cup.
Sing the benching (grace after meals).
After benching, drink the third cup, pour the fourth cup and open the door for Elijah.

Hallel
Praise Hashem for all his miracles.
Drink the fourth cup.

Nirtzah
Hashem has accepted our Pesach Seder.
Next year in Jerusalem!

DEW FOR A BROCHA
On first day Pesach, we say a special prayer for dew.
From that point on, we change to "Morid Hatal" (Who causes the dew to fall) in the Amidah.

DAYS THAT COUNT
From 2nd night Pesach, start counting the Omer, 49 days of prep for Shavuos and the Giving of the Torah. The seven weeks of Omer-counting are a time for introspection and personal development.

A MONTH OF HOLIDAYS
April is already a write-off, with all those public holidays, so you may as well enjoy the semi-holiday "Chol Hamoed" period between Yom Tovs, when you're not meant to work.

BACK TO THE FUTURE
The first days of Pesach concentrate on the historic Exodus, while the last days look towards the future redemption with Moshiach.

ALL-NITER
It's customary to spend the 7th night of Pesach learning.

A MEAL FIT FOR MOSHIACH
On the last day of Pesach, we have a special meal called "Moshiach's Seudah" or Moshiach's meal. Join us for a round of 4 cups of wine, spiritual insights and a farewell to the holiday.

POST PESACH:

The day after Pesach is called "Isru Chag", a day for little extra joy & food to keep the Pesach spirit alive.

You can find more info, all the right times for your location as well as where to find a Seder near you at www.chabad.org

Whatever happened to April Fools Day?

2011-04-04T23:30:00.000+02:00

I enjoy a good laugh or tasteful prank. Every first of April, since childhood, I've kept vigilant for the media's shenanigans and- even funnier- the gullible outrage of the public. One of my favourites as a kid was when our local Star newspaper reported that the government was about to expropriate houses in our area to make way for a subway system (you should have heard the indignant calls to local radio stations). Just as hilarious was the time a radio station bluffed that a tug was pulling an iceberg up the east coast of Africa. People phoned in to say that they could see the floating 'berg from their windows!

This year I was stymied. Sifting through the news, I encountered some outright prank stories (like Groupon buying the rights to the name "April Fools Day") and a few that could have been true (like "Richard Branson buys Pluto" or "The Guardian to set up a live Royal Wedding blog" or "Gmail's Gmotion will allow you to send emails using only gestures"). And there were those stories that sounded like they should have been hoaxes, but were sadly true ("Massachusetts letter arrives 66 years too late" and, worst of all "South African crime intelligence boss arrested on murder charges").

Years ago, an outrageous news-claim would more easily have stood out as a hoax. Today, with news stories like "14-year old rape victim flogged to death" it's become tricky to discern what's for real. April Fools seems to have become the standard. Ours is a world gone mad, where wild statements are normal and people finger the Voice of Reason as unbalanced. It's Aprils Fools' world.

In the fools' world morality is unpopular and depravity celebrated. It's the meshugah place where a family murdered in their sleep goes unnoticed by a world preoccupied with the drunken rants of an overpaid actor.

You need courage to live in this crazy world. Courage enough to know you are still sane when the lunatics call you crazy.

Reconsidering the Goldstone Report on Israel and war crimes - The Washington Post

2011-04-03T00:18:00.000+02:00

Reconsidering the Goldstone Report on Israel and war crimes - The Washington Post

Should you make a fuss?

2011-03-11T12:30:00.000+02:00

Luckily, we don't have one in our Shul, the fellow who drops a coin into the Tzedokah box and then shakes the thing to let everyone know he's done it. Some folks revel in whatever limelight they can get from doing good. Three months afterwards, they regale you with the story of their valiant effort to help a stranded woman change her tyre. They thrive on publicity.

On the other extreme, you get those who run a mile from public accolades. You'll chat to them for twenty minutes at a function without realising that they've sponsored the event or are the honorees of the dinner. They disburse goodness and generosity without pausing to think that anyone else has to know. They revel in anonymity.

Who is right? If you do a Mitzvah, should the community know about it, or should it remain your personal secret with G-d?

"Mitzvah lefarsem osay mitzvah", says the Talmud, "It is a mitzvah to advertise one who performs a mitzvah." It makes sense. When you draw attention to a person's good deed, it sets an example for others to follow. Note: The Talmud says it's a mitzvah to beat the drum for do-gooders, but it offers no license for self-promotion.

We are about to start reading the third book of the Torah, which opens with the laws of sacrifices. It starts with the statement that "Adam", a person who brings an offering to G-d should follow certain rules. Torah has a range of titles for humans at its disposal: "ish", "gever" or "enosh". Yet, it davka refers to the person bringing an offering as "Adam", a throwback to the first human. The verse links bringing your sacrifice to behaving as Adam did. One reason is to remind you that Adam didn't steal the animal he used as his offering, so neither should you.

The problem is, that the Torah already covers that by saying "bring an offering from you", meaning from your flock or herd. Surely, the sages hadn't missed that obvious reference, so their "don't steal" lesson must carry deeper meaning.

One insight is that Adam couldn't steal the limelight when he brought his sacrifice to G-d, because there was nobody else to impress. The eternal lesson is that when you move to get closer to G-d (korban, the Hebrew for sacrifice, comes from the Hebrew "karov", meaning close), do it in a way that nobody notices. If they notice, it's up to them to laud you and use you as an example for others to follow- which is not a bad thing either.

Improve your cash flow

2011-03-03T22:25:00.002+02:00

"Money makes the world go 'round."

Ouch! Plenty people take offence to that cliche. It implies that rich people call the shots or that values like love and wisdom are not respected in society. The "Golden rule" that "he who has the gold makes the rules" drives capitalism, but unnerves people's sensitivities.

What would you say if I told you that Judaism believes that money does make the world go 'round? Surprised? I thought so. (No comments about revenue of Jewish organisations, please). It's not that Judaism sees money as the turbine of life, but it definitely acknowledges that it plays a pivotal role in our existence.

Money can't buy you happiness or meaning, but it can buy you partnership in G-d's business. G-d is supremely creative. He could have designed the realities of the world in any one of an infinite number of ways. He could have made everyone wealthy, or decided that money should grow on trees, or that people should survive without ever needing cash. He didn't. He chose to make haves and have-nots. And He had a very good reason for doing so.

Life is the confluence of give and take. Earth gives forth plants that offer nutrition to animals, who provide food for humans, who plow energy back into the earth to restart the cycle. Beyond the physical, G-d supplies energy and means to us, and we return dedication and achievement to Him. All life is the cyclic heartbeat of providing and receiving. Sometimes, you are the recipient, other times the supplier.

When G-d gives you money, He invites you onto the supply side of existence. He expects you to start a new flow from provider to recipient. He wants you to channel some of your success towards others less fortunate. As you become a provider, you stimulate more flow from the Ultimate Provider to you. He sees you as a reliable partner in His grand plan- the flow of energy through life.

Money makes the world go 'round, but only when it moves outwards. If the buck stops at you, if you hang on to every cent, the cycle stops and the blessings can no longer flow. If you keep the cash flowing, so does G-d.

The Diablo that didn't turn heads

2011-01-27T16:21:00.000+02:00

Your children will always offer you a different perspective on things, and it's often worth listening to them. Their eye-opener comments often pop out from the backseat of the car, as happened to me last week.

It was the last week of the school holidays and I had promised the kids an outing. We were cruising down Republic road (nobody was fighting yet, which was a good sign) en route to Adventure Golf in Randburg, when he pulled in front of us. I'm not a big car afficiendo, but the bright yellow Lamborghini Diablo ahead of us did catch my eye (do I hear some of you guys drooling?).

"Hey, look at that car!" I announced to the kids. Instead of the "cool!" response I anticipated, their comments ranged from "that's a weird car" to "how can you get inside that thing?" As we waited for the light to turn green, and my brood debated how many people could squeeze into the speed-machine, a passing car distracted them. Across our line of sight a little ol' beat-up VW Beetle sputtered past.

"Wow! Look at that old car!" "Cool!" The flashy hot-wheels was quickly forgotten as they oogled over the jalopy.

Yep, kids can teach us sometimes. Speed and status are attractive, but stability and sensibility endure.

Great article- Portesting Israel's "occupation" of the West Bank

2010-12-24T17:37:00.001+02:00

Light up the nights

2010-11-30T21:45:00.000+02:00

Hanukkah, Hannuka, Chanukah, spell it how you will, it's a fun-filled eight-days of celebration.

THE STORY IN A NUTSHELL
Syrian Hellenists grew frustrated with the Jews because they refused to back down on "illogical" practices like circumcision at eight days and purity laws.
When they couldn't change the Jews minds with logic, they resorted to violence and trashing the Temple in Jerusalem.
A brave family (the Chashmonaim) launched a guerrilla assault against the well-trained, powerful Greek-Syrian army.
The Jews one.
When they reclaimed the Temple, they couldn't find any pure oil to light the Menorah-candelabra (in their anti-purity zeal, the Hellenists had defiled every jug of oil).
When they eventually found a tiny jug, G-d broke the laws of Nature & made the drops of oil burn for eight days.

GOT A LIGHT?
From Wednesday 1 December, light your Menorah/Chanukiya each evening after sunset.
On night 1, light 1. Night 2, light 2 etc,
[For the relevant blessings, click here]

CHANUKIYA DESIGNS
A kosher Chanukah candelabra has eight branches in a straight row at equal heights, plus a distinct branch for the "shamash" (lighter).

FUEL
First prize = Olive oil. Otherwise, those colourful candles are good too.

KEEP THE LIGHTS ON
Your candles need to burn for at least half an hour after dark (that's especially tricky on Shabbat, when you need to light the Chanukah lights before the Shabbat candles).

RELAX
Sit and watch your candles for a while.
Women shouldn't work while the candles are burning (that's right, guys, you do dishes...).

SAY THANKS
During the Amidah and Birkat Hamazon (blessing after a meal), add the "Al Hanissim" paragraph that thanks G-d for the Chanukah miracles.

GELT
Give your kids Chanukah pocket money (especially on the 5th night).
Also give extra charity each day of Chanukah.

GO FOR A SPIN
Chanukah's famous game of spinning dreidel is great fun.
[How to play]

TRANS-FATS, OY VEY
The Chanukah miracle is about oil- and so are the foods. Latkes and donuts or anything fried will do.

DEEPER DIMENSION
Chanukah is the festival of Jewish mysticism, take a resolution to study some.

Have a fantastic Chanukah!!

It's never too late

2010-11-14T13:59:00.000+02:00

WWII veteran, 91, celebrates bar mitzvah - Israel Jewish Scene, Ynetnews

Great speech!

2010-11-13T22:29:00.000+02:00

Mr. Gennady Bogolubov speaks at the International Conference of Shluchim 2010 from Jewish Educational Media on Vimeo.

Kinect

2010-11-11T12:42:00.002+02:00

Times Square was buzzing last Wednesday evening. I guess Times Square buzzes 24/7, 365 days a year, but last week was extraordinary. If you've visited New York's landmark thoroughfare, you'll recall the dazzling HD screens that turn night into day and flash commercials in your face. It's where street vendors tout comedy shows and tickets to heaven to a sea of photo-snapping Asians, star-struck couples and scowling, scurrying locals. The "Crossroads of the world", you'll remember, is bounded by the Theatre Disctrict, One Times Square (from which they drop the New Year's Ball), the New York Hard Rock Cafe and, of course, Toys R Us.

Last week's action unfolded outside the mega toy-store. We were dedicated parents, foraging for gifts to take home and almost missed the "You are the controller" shirts that every sales representative there wore. Satisfied with our purchases, we stepped out into the refreshing evening chill, to be accosted by lavender signs on every building flashing "You are the controller". That was when we noticed the line.

The line stretched from the toy mecca's entrance to the end of the block, where it twisted right and continued a few hundred metres down the road. As we watched, it grew. More and more people, dressed for the freeze, some with chairs and blankets, took their places in line. They planned to spend the night on line, so they'd be poised to storm the shop as doors opened in the morning and the newest have-to-have gadget, the Xbox Kinect would come on sale. Kinect technology replaces the joystick or game controller with the player. Instead of pushing buttons, on-screen characters mirror your body's movements as you play. With Kinect, you are the controller of a virtual world.

Half a block away, we boarded the subway for Crown Heights, where I would stand in line to register for the Shluchim Conference- a weekend of spiritual upliftment. It would be a weekend of true connect, one that would empower each participant to be the controller of their piece of this world, to make it a better place.

Just when you were getting comfortable...

2010-10-21T23:07:00.002+02:00

Do you also sometimes have those frenetic, dizzying rotor-blade days that sap you of patience, humour and energy? All you want to do after the day's chaos is to settle into your slippers, a hot bath or soft bed and breathe. Only the phone rings incessantly, your daughter needs help with homework or the neighbour's dog starts howling outside your window as you wind down.

Life teases us with all sorts of "just when you thought you were getting comfortable" moments to jolt us.

We are all entitled to gear down occasionally, but for the most part, life keeps us on our toes. Maybe it's G-d's conspiracy to keep us from getting comfortable.

Avraham was the prototype Jew who is supposed to model for us how living as a Jew works. Look at his life, he barely has a chance to catch his breath. As a child he has a run-in with his dad, who hands him over to the cops, who attempt to kill him (miraculously, Avraham survived). When he's 75, Hashem sends him packing to an unknown location and, as soon as Avraham gets settled there, brings famine to the land, sending Avraham on the road again. He tries to get on with his nephew, but Lot dumps him for the emerging markets in Sodom. Not long after that, Avraham has to rush off to rescue Lot (and fight off four kings) from his abductors. Avraham's wife can't have kids and advises him to take a second wife, but when Hagar falls pregnant, Sarah insists that Avraham kick her out the house (and potentially never meet the child he so wanted). Eventually, Hagar and Yishmael return and Sarah later bears a son. When Yishmael starts using his younger half-brother for target practice, Avraham sends him away. Then G-d tells him to take his favourite son and sacrifice him on an isolated mountain.

Avraham's life is a cacophony of upheaval with sprinklings of tranquility here and there. Had Avraham ever wanted to "chill", Hashem would quickly concoct a new speed-wobble to upend his world.

And he was the first Jew.

Because a Jew doesn't get comfortable. A Jew is someone who pushes the envelope and challenges everything that he or she has grown used to. A Jew cannot pat himself on the back or count "achievements". A Jew needs to always look for new challenges, aim for higher spiritual gains and greater impact on society. If a Jew doesn't push himself beyond his comfort-level, Hashem- in His infinite creativity- will.

Back to work...

2010-10-08T10:22:00.002+02:00

Feel like you've seen a lot of Shul lately? Yom Tov season shleps us to daven considerably more than we normally would. Then there's all the eating, the family get-togethers, Sukkah visits and Simchas Torah workout- Judaism takes over much of our lives for the month of Tishrei.

All that Yom Toving can be tiring (this year someone asked me why we don't spread the holidays over a few months) or powerful and inspiring. As exhausting as playing rabbi for three triple headers was, I am sorry to see the Yom Tov season go. I'll miss the High holiday bursting-at-the-seams vibe in Shul, the taste-of-nature Sukkah meals with the family and the pulsating energy of Torah-dancing.

Yom Tov is uplifting- a pause in the mayhem; a time to reflect, reframe, recharge and resolve. It infuses you with new life and a fresh perspective. All too soon, it's over and you're back to work and a spiritual dry spell, wondering if perhaps you could have made more of the Yom Tov season.

From Rosh Hashanah until Simchas Torah you are like Adam & Eve in Eden, a foetus in the womb. Life is beautiful, yet detached from reality. Today is Rosh Chodesh Cheshvan, when we are birthed into the challenges of "real" life, expelled from G-d's protective Ark into the drudgery of earning a living "by the sweat of our brow".

Cheshvan is a far from exciting time on the Jewish calendar (there's not a festival in sight all month). We all want some excitement or inspiration to spice up our lives, but real life happens in the doldrums of everydayness. Stepping from high octane Tishrei into plain old Cheshvan challenges us to bring some of the Yom Tov spark with us into ordinary life.

Take a moment to think about one thing that inspired you over Yom Tov. If you can hold that experience or even just recall it from time to time, you'll have a meaningful- and please G-d blessed- year ahead.

Let's go green (Your guide to Sukkot)

2010-09-21T19:52:00.000+02:00

Welcome to the time of year when all Jews Go Green, sit under the stars and feel the joy. Happy Sukkot!

Here are some tips for the holiday:

WHAT'S WITH THE HUT?
For 40 years in the desert, G-d protected us with the "Clouds of Glory". For eight days (starting Wed. eve 22 Sep.), we'll step out of man-made comforts and remind ourselves to trust G-d (that he'll hold off the rain, keep the mozzies at bay and protect us from sukkah-breakers).

LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION
Stick your sukkah under the stars. No overhanging trees or eaves allowed. (If you're in a complex/ apartment building, make sure you have permission before erecting your Sukkah, or it won't be kosher).

WALLED IN
You can use just about anything for Sukkah walls (including existing walls), as long as the walls don't flap like sails in the wind.

Minimum wall layout: 2 full walls + 1 mini-wall (about 1/2m).

Sukkah walls should reach from the floor to the top (you can have a gap of about 10cm at the bottom or top of the walls).

SEEING STARS
No, your Sukkah will not be waterproof. The roof needs to be made of vegetation that's been cut down (a creeper over the roof is no good).

Popular options for "shach" include: Palm, bamboo or unfinished lumber.

You know your Sukka's kosher when it's shady inside at noon. Rather have too much schach than too little. Do you need to see the stars? Yes (assuming you can see them through the city smog), but only from one spot in the Sukkah (feel free to set up a telescope through the branches).

SOME PRACTICAL POINTERS
- Make sure that your lights are waterproof.
- Create openings for ventilation, but make sure you can close them when it gets chilly.
- Pots and pans don't belong in a Sukkah, so prep the food inside and serve on platters.
- Anyone can build your Sukkah, but a Jew must place the schach leaves on top.

DECOR
Let your kids paint pictures to hang in the Sukkah. Feel free to add decorations of your own.
Chabad custom is not to decorate the Sukkah, because the Mitzvah should be beautiful enough.
Whatever you do, the main decoration of a Sukkah is lots of guests.

HOW TO USE IT
Eat all your meals in the Sukkah (you don't have to eat snacks there, but it's ideal).

If you eat bread or wine, add the brocha:
Boruch Atoh Ado-noy E-lohaynu Melech haoilom asher kid'shonu bemitzvoisov vetzivonu layshayv baSukkah.

You should eat your meal in the Sukkah on first night Yom Tov, even if it rains (you can wait for the rain to stop, obviously). Any other time, you may eat inside if it rains.

Women are not obliged to eat in the Sukkah.

Spend as much time as you can in the Sukkah (take your laptop or favourite book in there).

SHAKE IT UP
Every day of Sukkot (except Shabbat) you should start the day with shaking the Lulav and Etrog.

STAND PROUD
Your lulav (that's the tall green palm branch) should stand straight and stay compact. If it's bent or starts to fan out, check with the rabbi if it's still ok.

BTW, the Lulav represents your spine & how you should stand tall as a Jew.

Lulav care:
Keep it moist, not too wet, and in a cool spot.

IS THAT A LEMON?
No, an Etrog is a citroen, a unique fruit grown in Israel, Morocco and Italy. It tastes much better than a lemon & smells better too.

The mitzvah is to have a beautiful Etrog, so spare no cost ; ) Look for one that's yellow, symmetrical and clean (no black spots or blotches).

BTW, your Etrog represents your heart- keep it healthy and strong.

Etrog care:
Keep it dry and safe (dropping it could make it unkosher).

LEAVES
To the right of your Lulav, you'll bind three branches of myrtle (a.k.a. Hadassim). To the left you'll bind two branches of willows or Aravot (NOT weeping willows).

The myrtles represent your eyes and the willows your mouth- make sure what goes into your eyes and what comes out of your mouth is kosher.

Leafy care:
Keep them moist and cool. If the leaves fall off, check with the rabbi if they're still ok.

LULAV-A-ROBICS
Do your daily Lulav-waving workout every morning (first prize: In the Sukkah).

Start with the brocha:
1. Boruch Atoh Ado-noi Elo-heinu Melech ha'olam asher kid'eshanu be'mitzvosov ve'tzivonu al netilas Lulav.

When you shake it for the first time, add:
2. Boruch Atoh Ado-noi Elo-heinu Melech ha'olam she'he'cheyanu ve'kiymanu ve'higi'yanu lizman hazeh.

All Jews point the four-species combo in all six directions (right, left, forward, up, down, back), but not all communities do it in the same sequence.

PRAY IT FORWARD
If you've got a Lulav set, share it with others. It's an easy Mitzvah to involve your family, friends and work colleagues in.

Have fun!

Anyone see the sky lately?

2010-09-02T14:28:00.000+02:00

In keeping with the Elul spirit of "the King in the field" (and to treat my wife's family from the U.S.), we escaped to the bush for a few days last week. Technically, there's so much to take care of just before Yom Tov that it is not the ideal time for a bush-break. Philosophically, it's perfect. Nestled under azure skies in the tranquil embrace of nature, a myriad exotic bird species flitting about, is tailor-made for introspection. As your every taut muscle unknots and your metabolism slows, you allow yourself to forget life's stresses and instead focus on its blessings.

I had two Rosh Hashana-esque realisations in the warm glow of the African sun.

We had hoped to see loads of game, but the sightings were relatively limited (to be fair, we did drive right through a 500-strong herd of buffalo and had a close-up with two hyena in broad daylight). But, driving with the wind in our faces, game-seeking in an open Landrover, I noticed the sky. In the evening, we gazed at the stars and revelled in the light of a brilliant full moon.

Have you looked at the sky lately? I'm not asking if you have noticed the blue haze in your peripheral vision. How often do we actually look at and appreciate the sky? We spend the majority of our time indoors and drive around stashed away inside a car. Unless you walk a lot, you could go for weeks, maybe months without noticing the sky!

Chassidus teaches that an advantage humans have over animals is that we walk on two legs. Creatures that walk on all fours can't easily see the sky, humans can. Ironically, in the bush animals see the sky, while in the cities humans don't. For that matter, we don't feel the open air because we're confined by the man-made spaces we spend most of our time in.

Yesterday, I visited a doctor who is unwell. He commented on the high rate of malignancies in society and how he felt that radiation must be a big contributor to tumours. As we chatted, we wondered if maybe living cooped-up as we do is an equally relevant factor. Humans are supposed to step out into nature from time to time to release our stuff. We're supposed to "see the sky" to remain healthy.

And that means more than taking a holiday. It means seeing that the world is bigger than my issues. It means appreciating that Hashem takes care of innumerable ecosystems, which He manages perfectly, so surely He can take care of ours too.

We need to look at the sky, step into the open to feel the breeze on our faces and to relinquish control to the One who really is in control.

That was the second realisation I had. You can stress in the game reserve too. "I have to see lion", "I hope we see all the Big Five", "Let's try that area, maybe we'll see Rhino there". Or, you can relax and enjoy the experience, knowing that you have absolutely no way to determine which animal will walk into your path.

Admittedly, we were dismayed to find fresh leopard spoor and no leopard. But, we soon realised that we could do nothing to see one animal more than we were meant to see. It is easier to accept fate, or Providence as Jews call it, in the serenity of the Savannah. It's a more challenging in the office or at home, especially in tough times.

Yet, that is the challenge of the Jew: To accept that Hashem is in control and that He knows best, and to focus on becoming the best person each of us can become, because that is in our hands.

So, here's a thought for this Rosh Hashanah. Look at the sky to remind yourself that there are always higher and greater things to aim for in the coming year. And relax. Trust that Hashem will take care of everything you need when you concentrate on trying to do what He expects.

Can we keep the flag flying?

2010-08-12T13:14:00.002+02:00

My flag blew off my car last week. My sister's flew off her car this week. Whether they blew away or were taken down, those symbols of patriotism that adorned thousands of vehicles and hundreds of buildings are mostly gone. So is the enthusiasm and goodwill that they brought with them.

Euphoric South Africa seems to be reverting quickly to cynical SA. The calls to "keep flying the flag" and to "lead SA" battle to be heard over the country's top-cop's corruption conviction and violent crime that is back on our streets. It is no surprise that many of us have started muttering things like, "Where are all those cops we saw during the World Cup?" and "We should've known they couldn't keep it up".

Now the finger-pointing starts. We bemoan the "useless" government that impressed the world short-term, but can't protect or service its citizens long-term.

We have just started the month of Elul, when we start gearing up for Rosh Hashanah. Elul is a time for honest self-assessment, a stock-taking for the soul. Unless you assess yourself truthfully, you can't realistically plan for a better next year.

In a perfect world, our country's government would "do Elul" and become introspective for the next thirty days. But, before we criticise, let's actually do some soul-searching and see if we could stand up to the scrutiny that we put our leaders through.

Over the Elul/Rosh Hashanah/Yom Kippur period, we will do our best to be model citizens. We will spend extra time at Shul, treat people better than usual and resolve to do things differently in the coming year. Hopefully, we will get caught up in the inspiration and spirit of the holiday season.

But, once it's all over, can we maintain the inspiration? Can we feel the tingle we get at Kol Nidrei on a regular Monday?

It would be unrealistic to imagine that any of us can carry the high spirits of Yom Tov for an extended period. We accept our own limitations, yet we condemn them in others.

If you want Yom Tov to be meaningful, then prepare to feel inspired and prepare to make realistic changes in the long-run. Be honest. Accept that euphoria must expire and that success is a series of small, consistent improvements. That's true for ourselves and it's true for the country we live in. Small, consistent improvements- we can all make them.

It's how you look at it

2010-08-06T12:36:00.002+02:00

Have you ever wished you had a little more room at home? Maybe all you want is some extra storage space so you can put away those miscellaneous items that tend to pile up. Or perhaps you would like a breakfast nook, study or guest bedroom. You dream and ponder, but ultimately concede that you just don't have the space- or the budget- to expand your home.

Now imagine living in Hong Kong, one of the world's most densely populated cities, and trying to find additional living space. If you think your home isn't large enough, you may sober up when you hear that the average apartment size in that city is 56 square metres. Hong Kongers could fit their homes into some Sandton dining rooms!

Enter designer Gary Chang. Chang has lived his whole life in a 32 square metre apartment. Like many of us, he also dreamed of putting in a guest bedroom, state-of-the-art kitchen and more storage space. Buying a larger apartment was prohibitively expensive and he couldn't imagine splitting his existing home into more rooms.

So, he decided to turn the concept of living on its head. Instead of adding more rooms, he designed a brilliant series of movable panels and pull-out furniture to turn his single room into a twenty-room apartment. Slide the TV out the way and you'll find the kitchen. Pull down the back of the sofa to set up a double bed. In a flash he can transform his office table into a dining room and, when you pull back his CD rack, you find the bath.

Chang appreciated that he couldn't expand the space that he had, so he chose to see the space differently and use it accordingly. The result: A spectacular prototype for multi-functional space that will soon become available to Hong Kong's residents.

Tomorrow's Torah portion begins with G-d saying: "See, I have placed before you a blessing and a curse". Besides the obvious message, that our choices determine what happens in our lives, Hashem also offers us a great tip on how to approach life. "See". The way you perceive your circumstances will decide whether your life is a blessing or, G-d forbid, the opposite.

Hashem advises us to look for the positive in everything. He assures us that what we look for in life will determine what we find. Look for the good in a situation, and you will find opportunity. Look for the good in another person, and you will discover their goodness.

Tiger on the loose

2010-07-29T13:05:00.000+02:00

Panjo is home safely and the residents of Bronkhorstspruit can now breathe easier. Over the past two days, I will admit to enjoying telling friends abroad that wild animals do roam the streets of South Africa.

Trackers, sniffer dogs and local farmers combed a wide area in search of the young tiger, while the rest of the nation followed developments closely. The prospect of a tiger on the loose had us all a little uncomfortable. Now that he's back home, the questions have started. Do the big cat's owners have the appropriate legal documentation? Did they conform to safety standards when transporting the tiger to the vet? You really need to know what you're doing if you own a powerful predator like Panjo.

Of course, we're all experts on how they should have secured the great animal en route to the doc. Many of us are quick to condemn "irresponsible" people who "clearly" don't have the correct permits to own an endangered animal. "A tiger as a pet?" people ask incredulously.

Judaism prefers that we direct questions inwards, rather than point fingers. So, besides the fact that we should ensure that our own pets pose no threat to the public (admittedly, I'm extra sensitive since our neighbour's dog went for Mendy last week), what else can we learn from the tiger on the loose?

We all possess a wild animal. It lives within us and is usually docile. Over time, we start to believe that our inner-animal is just so cute and friendly and would never hurt a fly. Then, when we least expect it, our animal breaks out and starts running wild. Our animal may be anger, pride, stubbornness or passion. We won't now how it got out and we probably won't know how to get it back in.

Prevention is best, of course. Every person needs to be honest enough to learn the nature of their own animal. Anger and pride need to be restrained in the right cages and stubbornness or passion must be trained to express themselves appropriately. Without the right safeguards, you could have a disaster on your hands. Animals need owners to control them. G-d gave us an inner-animal and challenged us to become responsible owners.

Don't just sit there.

2010-07-23T08:31:00.000+02:00

I've just seen the results of a new study commissioned by the American Cancer Association. Popular thinking used to insist that one hour's excercise per day would keep you healthy, but new evidence debunks this theory.

The study, done on more than 120 000 healthy participants over thirteen years, shows that prolonged sitting is serious health risk. That's right- sitting. Women who sit for six hours a day were 40% more likley to die younger than those who sat for less than three hours a day. Men who sat long hours each day had a 20% increased chance of dying young than their more active counterparts.

Of course, the study didn't factor in sitting and shockling as we do during davening, nor did they study the benefits of working up a sweat and gyrating your thumb while studying Talmud in Yeshivah.

Logically, when you sit around you tend to snack more than when you're active. But, long sitting sessions also supress your immune system and slow blood circulation. When you sit for long periods, you also alter your body's metabolism, which can increase cholestrol.

The message is clear: Keep moving.

Our bodies and souls operate in a very similar fashion. You need to keep your body active to keep it healthy, and you need to do the same for your soul. One hour's "excercise" for the soul each day doesn't keep you spiritually fit, much less so a couple of hours on weekends.

When you stimulate your soul- which you do when you get up and join a shiur, hop over to Shul or do an extra mitvzah- it comes to life. If you wait for your soul to wake up and inspire you before you'll actually do anything, you'll find yourself sitting for along time. And sitting spiritually still for prolonged periods leads to premature death of inspiration.

Keep moving!

Extra time

2010-07-12T00:01:00.000+02:00

"And the game goes into extra time," announced the commentator. Spain & Holland, each vying for soccer's most coveted trophy were still 0:0 at full time. Fit as they may be, those players had to have been pretty tired when they faced an extra thirty minutes of play. Having fought so hard for victory and seen none, you might imagine that they would have started to slack as they headed back to the field for more.

Instead of slowing or growing despondent, each team attacked the ball with renewed vigour. The game picked up pace. Adrenalin. Action. Speed. Nobody slows down when the stakes are high, regardless of how long this thing takes. With every passing minute, the game becomes more urgent. Everybody fights harder. One goal, just one, will make all the difference. You only need to hit the target before the ref blows the final whistle.

Our team, the Jewish nation, has been working to score G-d's goal for Creation. It's been a long match. We had expected it all to end long ago, but we're now in extra time. It's not time to slow down or to become complacent, but to up the ante and shoot to win. One goal, just one, is all we need to make the world a better place. Take a shot now, before the final whistle blows!

The morning after...

2010-07-11T17:09:00.000+02:00

Tonight is the World Cup final at Soccer City, just a few miles away from here. We can already hear the sirens of VIP motorcades heading out of Sandton. Choppers are circling overhead and the ubiquitous vuvuzelas blast away on the streets. Once again, you can feel electricity in the air as

South Africa

gears up for the climax of a spectacular month. As Holland and

Spain

warm up to face off in the ultimate soccer meet, there is another group of people who faces an even greater challenge than the finalist teams.

We have floated on a cloud for weeks and now this spectacular time is about to end. Tomorrow's Monday morning blues will likely saturate the whole nation. Pick 'n Pay tellers and Eskom phone operators will resume their deadpan, slow-mo service. Window-washers will harass you at intersections and taxi drivers will cut you off on your way to work with nary a cop in sight to stop them. Whities will become cynical again. The great hangover sets in tomorrow.

Or not.

Anticipation, celebration and the inevitable letdown that follows are not unique to the World Cup. I remember the day that I graduated high school; how my friends and I had so looked forward to that great celebration of freedom, and how the day had turned out to be unusually ordinary. Weddings, births, graduations- life is full of wonderful moments to look forward to and enjoy, before they slip by.

Life is actually not about the wonderful moments. It's after the excitement dies down that life truly begins.

Yesterday we read the twin Torah portions Matos-Massei, which teach us how to deal with the "morning after" syndrome.

Matos means staffs or tribes (the singular being "mateh") and Massei means journeys. The synonym for "mateh" is "shevet" (which also means both rod and tribe). The difference between a shevet and a mateh is that, while both are branches that have been cut from a tree, the former is still moist, fresh and flexible, while the latter has dried out and hardened. A shevet is inspired, whereas a mateh has lost its excitement.

We all have our brief shevet moments and "real-life" mateh periods.

A shevet still has its freshness and inspiration, but a mateh has strength and resilience. And that’s exactly the point. Inspiration is wonderful- while it lasts. It is not the stuff of achievement.

By linking the twin portions of Matos-Massei, the Torah illustrates a critical lesson about life: You will always feel better when you are inspired, but you will achieve more when you are resilient. Matos, determination- not excitement- produces Massei, journeys, movement and true progress.

South Africans could tomorrow make the all-too-natural mistake of cleaning up the party mess and moving on. Or we could learn the recurring lesson that good times are there to open our eyes to life’s opportunities. And then it’s up to us to realize those opportunities.

We are blessed. We have hosted and impressed the world. We have tasted national pride and national unity. Tomorrow is not the day to reminisce on how good the last month has been. It is the first day of working to grow the goodwill, spirit and positivism that our country forgot it had.

Lessons from the World Cup part IX: "The winning team"

2010-07-09T12:55:00.001+02:00

All too quickly, it’s almost over. The World Cup hype has stoked our country for almost a month, and hopefully the positive vibe will continue beyond next Sunday night. We’ve seen some of soccer’s greatest names disappoint and some dark horses make good. Now it’s time for the best teams of the tournament to face off at Soccer City on Sunday night.

The sangomas and psychic octopus are working hard to predict who will walk away with the trophy, while the bookies put Holland ahead of Spain to win. Either way, history will be made. Netherlands has never won a World Cup and Spain has never made it to the finals.

So, what does it take to be a winner?

Casino ads often carry the disclaimer that “winners know when to stop”,but it’s the other way round in competitive sports. Your biggest mistake in a contest of this magnitude is to stop or even slow anytime before the final whistle. Even if your team has one goal up on your opposition, you should still push for another goal- and then another. Watch the pros play and you’ll see they don’t relax when they take the lead, they keep pushing.

In business, too, winners don’t slow when business is good, they power on harder. Regardless of how spectacular profits may be, a successful businessman will strive for even more. Winning artists keep honing their skills, top musicians practice and practice and scientists consistently push the envelope of research and innovation.

As one of my high school teachers was fond of saying: “Keep on truckin’!”

Everyone accepts the winner’s attitude to sport or business, but we often overlook this approach in the core areas of life. A few years into our marriages, we are likely to feel comfortable, maybe complacent. We tend to get by with giving our children just enough attention and love, but nothing that ejects us from our comfort zone. We hardly tackle our Judaism with winner’s enthusiasm.

This week we’ll read the Torah portion called “Masei”, meaning “journeys”. Note, the name is “journeys”, in the plural. Judaism is about constantly progressing; always improving. As soon as you plateau, you are not living as a Jew should.

Judaism is built on the winner’s attitude. Make sure you don’t take second place.

Lessons from the World Cup part VIII: "There's no I in team"

2010-07-09T12:55:00.000+02:00

As the World Cup tournament progressed, we saw team after team leave the field. We saw some of the hottest teams unceremoniously dismissed. France is seething at their team that fell apart, English fans want to know why their players are paid so much (they didn't even make the quarter-finals) and South America's giants bowed out early.

In the build-up to the games, people ogled over Rooney, Ronaldo, Kaka and Messi. None of them will play in the final game on Sunday. Having a celebrity sportsman on your team doesn't guarantee success, because one man cannot win a soccer game. It's a team effort, where everyone has to play in harmony or everyone goes down. It's those teams who have played as a cohesive unit who have made it to the finish line, not those that boasted the fanciest names of football.

Judaism is team effort. You can't connect to G-d on your own; you need to join a team. You can't rely on a professional Jew (your rabbi) to look after your spiritual needs. No matter how good your rabbi is, one man can't win the game. For that matter, you can't expect your child's school to insure his child's spiritual wellbeing. Sure, you send your youngster to an excellent school, but his teachers need you on the team to ensure that he turns out a success.

Lessons from the World Cup part VII: "Spectators"

2010-07-09T12:39:00.000+02:00

Watching soccer is interesting. Watching people watch soccer is more interesting. At times they sit on the edge of their seats, beer suspended pre-swig in midair, breath held. They chorus in collective groans at the near-misses and yelps of "Yes! Yes!" when their team scores. It's understandable. Your adrenalin pumps as the excitement on the field rises.

What I don't get is when people shout instructions to the players. I understand that technology has come a long way from the old flickering TV screens and you can now watch the game in HD or even 3D. I didn't know that the new-fangled sets allow the players to hear you.

Ok, we all know they can't hear you. We all know that fans play the game vicariously through the footballers they watch. But, seriously, why the screaming?

It gets more extreme than that.

When we realized that we would battle for a Mincha-Maariv minyan on the evening of the South Africa- France game, I arranged for the guys to watch the game together at someone's house and we'd daven Mincha during half-time (I can be pragmatic, sometimes).

Mincha took a little longer than expected and the guys got back to the game a few minutes into the second-half. Nothing serious had happened in the first few minutes of play, so everyone should have been happy. What nobody noticed was that one of the guys had slipped into the room ahead of the pack and PVR'ed the game back to the beginning of the second half. When the others found out, a raucous debate ensued: Some wanted to watch every minute of the action, while the others argued that there would be no point in watching a live game if they were not going to watch it live.

In life, there are times when you are the player and times when you're only a spectator. When you're the player- when you can do something about a situation- play with everything you've got. When you're a spectator- when things happen that are beyond your control- don't scream and shout, because it won't help. Don't try control what you can't control and don't live in the past, because the live game will pass you by.

Some people live life as players. They get things done. Others are spectators. They make no meaningful contribution, but have plenty of advice for everyone else. If you find yourself feeling critical of everyone else, it may be a symptom that you're living as a spectator. When that happens, get up and do something proactive.

Lessons from the World Cup: Audio link

2010-07-09T10:35:00.002+02:00

Lessons from the World Cup part VI: "Keep your eye on the ball"

2010-07-09T10:08:00.000+02:00

I'm not a soccer aficionado, nor do I follow professional sport, but having the world's largest sporting event in my backyard this month has piqued my interest in soccer.

One lesson from the beautiful game that seems pretty obvious is that a player must keep his eye on the ball. During the game, it's all action. No player can afford the luxury in mid-play to stop and check the score or ball-possession stats.

Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai was a leading Talmudic sage. As he lay dying, his students gathered at his bedside, the great man reflected on his 120 years.

"I don't know which way they will take me, to Heaven or to purgatory," he commented.

Here was a man who had dedicated his every breathing moment to G-d. He had studied every aspect of Torah, had taught hundreds of the greatest Jewish scholars and had single-handedly ensured the survival of Judaism in the face of the Roman destruction of Jerusalem. And he didn't know where he was headed in the next world?

Rabbi Yochanan had spent his whole life working, with his eye on the ball, and had never stopped to ruminate over what his scoreboard looked like. Rabbi Yochanan's wanted to teach his students (and us) that life is all about playing the game, not worrying about how good we look while on the field.

Lessons from the World Cup part V: "Encouragement"

2010-07-09T09:38:00.001+02:00

Bafana Bafana, South Africa's national team, was ranked 83rd in the world soccer-rankings. France, their final opponent in the opening round, was ranked 6th. By that game, every South African knew their team stood almost no chance of making it into round two. All they wished for was that they should go out winning a game. But, the odds were steeply stacked against an SA victory.

Our opening game appearance wasn't too promising either. Mexico is a strong team and we genuinely feared that we'd make history as the first World Cup host nation to lose an opening match.

The South Africans only had one thing going for them: Spirit. Lots of it. South Africans exuded more positive energy in the opening day of the 2010 World Cup than in recorded history. I sat in traffic for two-and-a-half hours, creeping along to collect my kids from school on that Friday. Joburg had never witnessed so much traffic. Thousands of motorists rushing home to catch the game crawled alongside busloads of fans, all blocked every few minutes by motorcades whisking dignitaries along (Joe Biden's passed me on the road). There were concerns that the South African team would arrive late at the game due to the congestion.

It was chaos.

And everybody loved it.

Poeple waved, sang, blew vuvuzelas and danced in the street. Everyone smiled. When the team bus eventually snaked from its hotel towards the stadium, the crowds went wild. When they entered the stadium, the crowds went wild. Eleven men, who weren't really cut out to take the international stage, walked onto the field as heroes. And they played beyond expectation.

SA drew with Mexico. In fact, a South African player scored the opening game of the tournament (and boy, did the crowds go mad! It was already Shabbos when he scored, but we knew all about it from the roaring vuvuzelas.) Uruguay outdid the South Africans, but the home team managed to beat the French- achieving the impossible.

Ok, so we didn't make it to the second round. But, we learned a great lesson in positive energy and how much you can do for someone with a little encouragement.

Lessons from the World Cup part IV: "Eleven men"

2010-07-08T22:27:00.000+02:00

What do a soccer team and a minyan have in common? Not much, I hear you say (although players do occasionally pray on the field).

Ten men make a minyan, eleven a soccer side. (Admittedly eleven men make the minyan more pleasant, because then one can use the bathroom without stopping play). On the face of it, there's no meaningful link between the Jewish prayer quorum and a traditional football squad.

Besides, ten is a big number in Judaism. G-d used ten utterances to create the World, Judaism is based on the Ten Commandments and Ten Sefirot or Divine energies form the framework of Creation.

Eleven is, apparently, insignificant.

On closer inspection, eleven connotes an interesting spiritual mystery. One of the most sacred rites of the ancient Jewish Temple in Jerusalem was the ketoret incense. Ketoret was the only offering ever brought into the holiest inner sanctum of the Temple. Unlike the other offerings that were essentially food, the ketoret was a fragrance. Smell is the sense that the mystics associate most strongly with the soul, so this incense is considered especially spiritual. When a plague threatened hundreds of thousands of lives in the desert, Moses sent his brother out with the Ketoret to stop the dying. Ketoret is powerful stuff.

The recipe for the Ketoret spice calls for eleven ingredients.

Remember, ten is the number of holiness. It is considered a whole, or perfect number. Ten represents the organised system of life in balance. A system made of eleven elements seems to carry something tagged on to an otherwise complete system. Kabbalah calls it the number of the unholy.

"Holiness" means harmony between Creator and creation. It is the symbiotic relationship between our Maker and us. "Unholiness" implies a disconnect, where a person feels detached from the source of his own life. Such an individual sees his life as a complete entity and G-d as distant "great uncle", who occasionally drops by with an inappropriate gift. To be "unholy" is to live an eleven-part life, ten parts of integrated self that live tenuously linked to a remote power source called G-d. It is to breathe each day and forget the value of oxygen.

To combat the negative "eleven", you need to invoke a healthy "eleven". Either way you look at it, eleven expresses a deviation from the wholesome system represented by ten. A corrupt "eleven" means that someone has detached from G-d. A positive "eleven" means that someone has transcended the normal ten-point system and now operates with super-rational dedication to G-d. The ketoret was that "holy" eleven, an offering strong enough to stop death itself in its tracks.

In 1980, the Lubavitcher Rebbe shared a valuable life's lesson that we could all learn from soccer. He compared the ball to the Earth and the goal-posts to the gateway to G-d. We have been put on this Earth with a mission, to get the world through the "king's" gateway and into G-d's palace. Achieving our goals has its challenges, most notably the negative forces (the corrupt "eleven") that block our spiritual progress. Often, the other side appears to be more powerful than we are, and we may feel we're not up to the task. It's at those times that we need to recall that G-d empowers us with our own "eleven", the supernatural wherewithal that ensures we will win the game.

Lessons from the World Cup part III: "Team colours"

2010-06-30T22:51:00.000+02:00

For the past couple of months, hundreds of thousands of South Africans have worn Bafana Bafana shirts to work ea ch Friday to show support for the national side. In Sandton City on Sunday, we passed waves of green-shirted Mexican fans eyeballing blue-and-white clad Argentinian supporters ahead of their respective countries' clash later that evening. We've seen proud Brazilians in yellow and green, Dutch fans in orange, Portuguese with red-green-yellow wigs and Spaniards in yellow and red face-paint. Wherever you go in Johannesburg, you can tell where in the world the tourists are from.

Even after their teams have crashed out of the game, fans wear their colours proudly.

As Jews, we should wear our team colours- the dress-code that shows everyone who we are- with pride. Get your yarmi and tzitzit on, so that the world will know who you support.

Lessons from the World Cup part II: "Rules of the Game"

2010-06-30T22:35:00.000+02:00

When FIFA comes to town, they sorta take over. Locals here joke that we're living in the "Republic of FIFA" during this month of the soccer World Cup. The football federation insists on strict control over ticket sales, marketing, merchandising and more around the tournament. They take a zero-tolerance attitude and have established special "World Cup" courts that sentence offenders with lightning speed (something we're not used to in SA).

This fixation with rules and compliance got me thinking. Imagine what would happen if a group of concerned individuals approached FIFA with the following:

"A professional soccer player will header the ball regularly during his career. Preliminary studies show that the force of the ball hitting a player repeatedly on his head may cause brain damage. We propose changing the rules of the game to allow players to use their hands to deflect the ball, rather than butting the ball with their heads. We are confident that the game will remain as exciting as always, and the players won't harm their health."

It's unlikely that FIFA deign to respond to such a suggestion. If they did reply, they'd probably say something like this:

"Thank you for your concern. Soccer is a game where the players traditionally use their feet, chest and heads to control the ball. A player may not use his hands during the game (with the exception of the goalie, of course). If you wish to play a sport where you control the ball with your hands, we recommend that you join a Volleyball league. Or, should you wish to invent a new game where players may use their hands instead of their heads to control the ball, go ahead. Just ensure that you don't call such a game soccer, because it is not soccer."

FIFA would have no qualms about telling us that soccer follows age-old, non-negotiable traditions.

Judaism's traditions are older (and more meaningful) than soccer's. Well-meaning people sometimes try to change the rules of Judaism to suit modern needs. To them we say, "If you want to invent a new religious protocol, be our guests. Just don't call it Judaism, because Judaism played by a new set of rules is simply not Judaism."

Lessons from the World Cup part I- "It's never gonna happen"

2010-06-29T14:41:00.000+02:00

South Africa is one big party these days. I had to complain to the electricity company the other day, and the operator was unusually effervescent and couldn't help chatting about the soccer while he was processing my complaint. Wherever you go- the malls, on the street, the airport- people smile, joke and toot their vuvuzelas. Even the notoriously aggressive taxi drivers are jubilant. People use expressions like "rebirth of our country" and "crossing the racial divide". It is nothing short of miraculous.

Upon reflection, few people were optimistic about SA's readiness to host the World Cup. Cynics sneered that we'd never have the stadiums, roads or hotels ready in time (striking builders almost proved them right). Doomsayers predicted that our disorganised airports, lack of public transport and crime-epidemic would surely scare off potential tourists. Table talk was peppered with dire predictions against a chorus of "it's never gonna happen". Everyone "knew" about FIFA's backup plan to move the tournament to Oz when Africa would fluff its first shot at hosting this spectacular sporting fest.

South Africa defied the skeptics.

As H-hour approached, the stadiums took shape, roadworks wrapped up, hotels installed furniture as they laid paving and even the Guatrain came online. We tentatively allowed ourselves to hope- maybe we could pull this thing off after all. Still, the doubts persisted, clouding our optimism. We've been let down as a nation so many times that we battle to be positive. We've missed a good number of opportunities in the past, how could we be sure we wouldn't wreck this one too?

All that changed in an instant. Doubt evaporated in an explosion of sound and colour at 12p.m. on Wednesday, 9th June. Hundreds of thousands of black and white South Africans united in Sandton, Soweto and Cape Town to show support for their B-rated national soccer side. People danced in the streets, vuvuzela'd and toyi-toyed, grinned and embraced. Our impossible moment had arrived, sparking an unstoppable celebration that still continues.

* * * *

It's been over 2000 years that we Jews have been waiting for our "Impossible moment", for the better world that our prophets and sages promised. But, we're skeptical. It's been so long and we've been let down so many times. We "know" that life will plod along, blighted with antisemitism and a growing Jewish apathy. Moshiach would never actually come.

World Cup 2010 reminded me that everything can go right in a nanosecond. It showed how it's human nature to doubt that change will come, even when the signs are there. Watching my neighbourhood erupt into exuberance was a foretaste of that wonderful moment that will come out of the blue and transform all of us in a flash from uncertainty to unbridled joy. May it come very soon!

Life's too easy

2010-06-24T10:51:00.002+02:00

They urged, cajoled and warned us not to miss the once-in-a-lifetime chance to watch South Africa play in the Soccer World Cup, but I did. Even having our Mincha minyan at halftime didn’t get me there in time to see our two historic goals. South Africa charged onto the field, fired by a burning urge to score and, within 20 minutes tore through Le Bleu’s defence, throwing our country into delirious euphoria. The next miracle came quickly, seventeen minutes later, as team SA plowed on at full throttle. Unbelievably, it began to look like we would win this game and maybe, just maybe, we would even make it through to the next round. But the wind was out of our sails by the second half, we lost our burning drive and faltered on the field, conceding a goal and our chance to move on to the next round.

Between the shouting through the screen (I’m sure the players can’t hear your instructions, but you all scream anyway), someone made a profound observation: If not for the half-time break, Bafana would most likely have kept up their winning streak. Something happened inside that dressing room. Our guys had the chance to stop and reflect on the state of the game. They had time to realise that they were doing well. They faced the danger of becoming complacent.

Today, the 12th of Tammuz, commemorates the day that the Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe was miraculously released from Soviet prison after having being indicted on the capital offence of crimes against Stalin’s Motherland (his “crime” was strengthening Judaism in that country), To live as a Jew under the Communists was dangerous at best, yet thousands of Jews rose to the occasion and kept the flame of Yiddishkeit alive under the most challenging circumstances. If you were Jewish in Stalin’s prison-State, you knew that if you didn’t fight hard to keep your family Jewish, your Jewish line would die with you.

Ironically, when those hard-nosed Russian refuseniks eventually reached the safety of Israel or the United States, many of them became secular. They quickly exchanged the Judaism that they had fought so hard to maintain in the U.S.S.R. for the easy life of the U.S.A.

We’re living through the second half of Judaism’s campaign for survival in the 20th and 21st centuries. During the first half, our zaides and bobbas fought for Jewish values with the urgency of people who knew their lives depended upon it.

We are their priveleged grandchildren who don’t face the crisis of survival against overwhelming hatred. Our challenge is to keep pushing as hard as they did, even as we feel comfortable with our position. We’d better not do a Bafana in G-d’s grand game of making our world a holy place.a

We don't do religion

2010-06-17T11:58:00.001+02:00

Wayne Rooney was cut off mid-interview yesterday, while discussing his faith. The English striker began explaining why he wears a cross and rosary beads, when Mark Whittle, head of media relations for the English Football Association, stopped him. “We don’t do religion”, the official declared.

Well, Mr. Whittle, I beg to differ. Besides all those players who praise G-d after scoring a goal, soccer is a religion in itself.

You soccer people live by a strict and demanding code. Itumuleng Khune ( for the soccer-challenged, that’s Bafana’s goalie) can tell you what happens to someone who breaks one of those laws- even if it’s in the heat of the moment.

Then there’s your dress code. Players (are they the priests in the temple of foot ball?) must wear the right uniforms, and all self-respecting supporters dress pretty much the same as they flaunt their team’s colours at games.

Professional matches must be played at official stadiums. You could play six-a-side at your local school field, but it won’t have a fraction of the appeal of a pro-match and it certainly won’t attract global attention.

Kick off at a game can’t be late and play may not stretch on longer than the legally allocated time. Fans know that they need to be there when the whistle blows or they will miss the action.

So, Mr. Whittle, you guys do religion. Big time.

In fact, our religion could learn a thing or two from the beautiful game. We could learn to wear our Jewish uniforms with pride- even should our team lose a game. We could learn to appreciate that the game of life cannot work without a clear, unbending set of rules. Soccer’s pilgrims should inspire us to get together at our spiritual stadiums, because playing alone at home doesn’t grab G-d’s attention in the same way the “real game” at shul does. We also need to learn that the team that plays better on the day, wins. Plus, we can learn how to focus on the next shot- not the scoreboard- while on the field. And we can appreciate that every move we make on the field carries a consequence for when the game is over. Lastly, we need to learn to be enthusiastic about the game we’re playing.

When we will live our religion as the soccer stars live theirs. the whole world will win gold.

This oil is slick

2010-05-07T12:57:00.000+02:00

Volcanic ash dissipates quicker than crude oil. Well, at least that's what authorities in the U.S. are learning this week. We were all so busy gaping at the European air-travel shut-down that we missed the “minor” explosion on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico. Well, now Heathrow is operational and the oil spill is no longer so minor.

The facts are staggering. Almost 800 000 litres of oil spews daily from the burst well into the ocean. Coast Guard planes have already dumped over 500 000 litres of chemicals onto the spill, which can't be great for the environment either. And the gooey slick has already overwhelmed two wildlife refuges on uninhabited islands as it threatens hundreds of species of marine and bird life in the area. Experts propose that massive oil globules could contaminate entire food chains beneath the surface. Special boats scoot out each morning to try suck oil off the sea or simply set sections of the dark liquid alight. BP is scurrying to drop a massive concrete/steel box over the burst oil-well to contain the flow. U.S. Homeland Security admitted this week that they will be dealing with a “long-term” disaster.

Basically, it's clear that oil doesn't go away easily.

Torah is called water. You need water to survive, but it’s unlikely you'll drink it for its taste. Knowing what you need to do as a Jew will keep you on the right path, but may not inspire you. Our Sages suggest adding some wine to your diet. Wine is a pleasure-drink. You can survive without it, but it makes life more enjoyable. Learning the why’s behind the what’s of Judaism helps bring your Judaism to life. (Ta’am is the Hebrew world for both reason and flavour, implying that understanding the reasons behind what you know makes it more palatable.)

Mysticism is called the oil of Torah. You shouldn’t swig oil straight from the bottle, but it does wonders for a salad and is useful to cook and fry with. Jewish mysticism on an “empty stomach” (or mind) might make you ill, but added to the Judaism you already know, it creates a paradigm shift.

More importantly, once you get that “oil” into your system, it’s unlikely you’ll ever get it out. Once you’ve tasted the inspiration of Jewish spiritual teachings, most notably Chassidus, Judaism will seep into your mind and heart. BP drillers unleashed a powerful jet of pollution that they are struggling to control. Imagine if you could unleash an equally powerful stream from your soul? Study Chassidus on a regular basis and your Judaism will gush to life.

Everybody loves a parade

2010-04-30T12:16:00.000+02:00

You could see frost on the grass when we gathered at Yeoville Park thirty years ago. I wasn’t sure if I was shivering from excitement or simply from the cold. Luckily, they handed out wooly hats to keep us warm. They also distributed slogan-bearing placards for us to carry into the streets. Now that I think about it, I was a little young to join public action. A TV news crew covered the proceedings (we were later featured on the 8pm news) as journalists fanned out to interview members of the crowd. This was South Africa’s first ever Lag B’omer parade.

I remember the mayor speaking (not that I recall any of what he said) and the military marching band striking a high note. Kilted bagpipe players meandered between the floats that depicted Shabbos, kosher and “flying high” with Mitzvos (that full-scale model plane stood for months after at my friend’s house, and we’d hop into the “cockpit”, spin the propellor and “fly off” to imaginary destinations).

Parades are exhilirating. New Yorkers crowd Manhattan’s streets for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade and thousands flock each year to Rio’s Mardi Gras. Yesterday, Cape Town hosted a different parade as our national security forces flexed their muscle ahead of the Soccer World Cup. A more chilling parade is Ahmadinejad’s annual “Army Day” military hardware display.

Lag B’omer parades are decidedly unique. Decades ago, the Rebbe launched Lag B’omer parades as a way of uniting Jewish children and encouraging greater Jewish involvement.

The earliest Lag B’omer parade must date back over two centuries earlier. The Ba’al Shem Tov, as a young man, would travel incognito to various shtetls to uplift the spirits of the Jewish community and encourage Jewish observance. He once visited a village just as a marauding gang of peasants arrived to loot and terrorise its citizens. All the Jews fled to caves in the neighbouring hills to wait out the storm. On Lag B’omer morning- much to the terror of their parents-the Baal Shem Tov gathered all the children to parade in honour of the special day. They sang and he offered them treats. As soon as they finished, the looters ran in panic from the village, leaving the goods they had planned to steal.

Nations use parades to show their might. A Lag B’omer parade is more than a simple kiddies fun day, it’s a show of Jewish might. The Rebbe often related the children’s parade to King David’s words in Tehillim: “From the mouths of babes, You have established strength, to neutralise the enemy.” He often emphaiszed that Lag B’omer is an auspicious time to garner Divine protection for our People, it’s a time when our enemies’ plans can be defused through our unity.

As Iran flaunts its strength and the world criticizes our every move, let’s get together and parade our Jewish pride and unity through the streets.

Time to pull together

2010-04-23T14:40:00.000+02:00

Flight delays are always frustrating, but tensions must have sky-rocketed in airports around Europe over the last week, thanks to Iceland’s drifting ash-cloud.

Imagine you’ve been away on business, or even a leisure trip. You’re all ready to head home and they cancel your flight. Indefinitely. You had budgeted your stay, and even the contingency cash you have left won’t cover the extra few days accommodation. Besides, all the hotels nearby are now fully booked (you lingered in the airport, hoping they’d open the air to traffic). Europeans airports offer precious little in the way of kosher food, so you start rationing chocolate bars and the two sandwiches you packed for the flight (because they never have the kosher meals that you order). Now, Shabbos is coming and you grimace at the thought of spending it in the airport...

I chatted to a friend in London yesterday. His Chabad House hosted 120 stranded Israelis last Shabbos. A colleague in Denmark could hardly fit all his guests into his home last week. In Marseilles, a Chabad rabbi rounded up the Israelis at the check-in counters to help him distribute biscuits and sandwiches. Dalia Itzik, previous speaker of the Knesset, was one of the grateful recipients of the kosher refreshments.

We Jews are one big family. We complain about each other, criticise each other and sometimes overreact in the way we censure bad behaviour. But, when it comes down to it, we’re all family and we care for each other.

Rabbi Akivah identified one line from this week’s Parsha that he felt encapsulates all of Judaism: “Love your fellow Jew as yourself”.

We shouldn’t need an eruption (volcanic or communal) to test how well we treat each other. The first Rebbe of Chabad taught that extra love to your fellow Jew can never be a mistake. Ideally, it will draw that person closer to you. If not, at least you’ve done the mitzvah of love.

This is the time of the year when we’re meant to think of each other and how we can treat each other better. The Omer period is dedicated to self-improvement and relationship-building. Now is an ideal time to fix a faribel, volunteer to visit a hospital or aged home, or to simply lend a hand to someone you know who’s going through a rough patch (here's something practical to do right now, visit www.justiceforsholom.org/).

Fresh minds

2010-04-15T11:51:00.000+02:00

It was back to school this week amidst sighs of relief from the moms and groans from the kids. From day one, schoolchildren count down to their next vacation. In primary school, they dream of being in high school, where they wish school was over so they could get into varsity, where they will itch for the day to be free of study altogether.

Many adults feel relieved that their time of hitting the books is over. Sure, you might do an MBA, take a computer course or study sales and marketing strategies, but these are temporary forays into academics in between working the “real” world. As they age, people generally study less.

Here’s an exception: Akasease Kofi Boakye Yiadom, a Ghanaian World War II veteran, who has just graduated business school at the age of 99. When interviewed by CNN, he explained: “Education has no end. As far as your brain can work alright, your eyes can see alright, and your ears can hear alright, if you go to school you can learn.”

When I was a child, I would attend holiday camps, where the day started with Torah classes. When it was time to move on to our next activities, the staff would announce: “Learning never ends”. For a Jew it dare not end. Yiadom’s inspiration sounds like the script of those camp announcements, or the teaching of our sages in Ethics of the Fathers. Rabbi Tarfon taught: “It’s not your responsibility to complete the task, but you may not shirk your responsibility either”. His message is that you’ll never fully plumb the depths of Torah, but you have to keep delving.

They call us the People of the Book and we’re supposed to live up to that credo. As Yiadom says, if your brain an eyes still work then you ought to use them. His example- heading back to school at 96- should inspire us. Ok, I know not everyone has time to sit all day and study, but we can all make a plan to exercise our minds regularly.

The funny thing is that, when you start studying Torah, you quickly start enjoying it. It will take a good push to get yourself to a shiur at first, but you’ll get into the swing of it in no time. Take a step to improve your Jewish education, you will be glad you did.

Oh, and don’t wait till you’re in your nineties to do it!

Get those bad guys!

2010-04-13T08:30:00.000+02:00

We have a strict no-TV policy and discourage our kids from violent and gun-based games. But, boys will be boys and my five year-old has picked up some war-game ideas from his peers. Today, he built a Lego town and crowned himself its defender against the waves of attacks from numerous imaginary armies. When he proudly updated me on his Vuvuzela-cannon victories, I masked my frustration.

Then he threw me a ray of light, the type that sometimes reassures parents that some of the values they try instill in their kids actually get through. He flashed his impish grin and explained that he had a secret weapon that would guarantee him victory in every battle. His special weapon doesn't kill the "baddies", it transforms them into "goodies". Who needs to fight a battle when you can just zap your enemy into becoming your friend? Ingenious!

His make-believe "transformer" gun carries a great message. We were put on this Earth to make a difference, to turn the unruly jungle we live in into a tranquil garden. To do that, we need to weed out the negative and plant lots of positive.

There are two ways to achieve this goal. One is to overwhelm our world with powerful spirituality that forces the negative into hiding. When G-d blasted His message from Mt. Sinai, he blinded evil with His brilliant light and the world became a better place. Unfortunately, when you strong-arm evil out of the way, it goes underground and regroups. Before we even left the foot of Sinai, evil was back with a vengeance and we fell for the Golden Calf. You can win the battle by being stronger than your enemy, but you will fight many more battles along the way.

The second approach is to win your enemies over. When your enemy becomes your friend, you no longer need brute strength to keep safe. Judaism's goal is not to pulverize the body or starve the physical world so that we can grow our spirituality. Our aim is to transform every part of life into an ally for G-d's mission. Our objective is to turn those "baddies" into "goodies".

My son had another trick up his sleeve: He whispered into my ear that he was actually a superhero (I held my breath, waiting for the Spiderman routine). "Yes," he proudly explained, "I am Moshiach, and when the bad guys see me they are more scared of me than of anyone else!"

Yep, I got some nachas today- and a good lesson that Moshiach is all about transforming the world, not beating it into shape.

Pesach takeaways

2010-04-07T11:24:00.002+02:00

It strikes me as somewhat ironic to hear people say they’re glad to be free of the Festival of freedom. Granted, the matzah can get a bit much and Pesach is eight days of fantasizing over chocolate cake, but it remains an essentially inspiring time. Rushing from Pesach to the pizza parlour often robs us of the chance to reflect on what the festival of freedom has offered us.

Pesach marks the birth of idealism. Moses had a dream. He ignited the imagination of three million slaves and led them to a new life. Our nationhood exploded into being amidst miracles and Divine revelation- the hallmarks of Pesach. Then reality struck. In short order we went from the magic of supernature to the monotony of wandering a barren desert. Don’t think this is history; it’s life. We have our Pesach moments that fling us headlong towards model behaviour. Soon enough we have our tasteless-Matzah moments, where we wonder why we ever thought those resolutions and principles were a good idea.

As with Aaron’s sons in this week’s Parsha, it’s easy to fly off in pursuit of dreams. His sons were experts at inspiration and failures at application. Hopefully, you had a good seder (the food was good, it didn’t end too late, the kids sang nicely and you felt inspired). After Pesach, our challenge is to anchor the upliftment into real life.

So, straight after this spectacular holiday, we begin to read Pirkei Avos. Every Shabbos afternoon, for the next few weeks, we review a chapter of the teachings of our Sages. Most Talmudic literature focuses on the how-to of Judaism. Pirkei Avos coaches us in being a mentsch, it trains us to refine our character.

Interestingly, in the opening chapter of Pirkei Avos, we find the Jewish definition of being a mentsch. Shimon the pious offers the first teaching of the book- which is meant to set the tone for whatever character refinement Avos is meant to teach us. He insists that the world stands on three pillars (his implication is that a world on two pillars will topple): Torah, prayer and good deeds. A Jew will be a mentsch with a good mix of study, contact with G-d and good ol’ kindness.

Whatever Pesach meant to you this year, now is the time to put together an action plan. All you need to do is study something about Judaism each day or at least each week, daven and give a little more charity than you feel you should.

It depends what you're looking for...

2010-04-04T17:38:00.000+02:00

You need to have good eyes for Pesach. I'm not talking about having decent eyesight to read the pages of Haggadah-text on the Seder nights (although that is useful), I mean you need sharp eyes to prepare for and enjoy Pesach.

First, you need eagle-eyes for the chametz-search on the night before Pesach. As you search for those ten small pieces of bread, you also seek your own character weaknesses so that you can overcome them. In other words, before Pesach, you look for- and find- problems.

On the next night, at the Pesach Seder, you search again. This time, you look for matzah (the antithesis of bread). Your search is not for just any matzah, but for the elusive afikoman. Beyond the kiddies' treasure hunt, the afikoman represents the hidden essence of your soul that you should constantly strive to reveal. Your soul's own power is unstoppable, if you can only activate it. So, on Pesach night you look for solutions.

These two searches are typical of the opposing attitudes of Pharaoh and Moses, or pre- and post Exodus mentalities. What's common to both is the life-maxim that whatever you look for, you'll find.

When Moses told Pharaoh to let the Jews go, Pharaoh invented a most creative spectrum of excuses for them to stay put. He warned Moses to be practical and not to spoil his people's employment opportunities, he recommended that the children stay behind to avoid the stress of desert travel and he even warned that the stars bode ill for Moses' people. Pharaoh looked for excuses and he found some really good ones. Moses looked for opportunity and he saved our nation.

Pesach reminds us that we will find what we look for in life. Even before Pesach starts, we look for the problems with a view to resolve them. Once Pesach begins, we only look for opportunities and solutions. At Pesachtime, you need to be wary of the sophisticated and apparently well-intentioned views offered by Pharaoh and take encouragement instead from the positive outlook of Moses.

You might come up with watertight excuses for not making spiritual progress. But, then you are Pharaoh's slave. Alternatively, you could look for opportunity and leap into action. Then you follow Moses to free yourself from the shackles of your own self-doubt, called Egypt.

Vote for fairness in the Rubashkin case

2010-04-03T22:52:00.000+02:00

Four cups of marriage

2010-03-23T22:07:00.000+02:00

Last night's wedding was part one of three pre-Pesach nuptials. Standing in front of the chupa, I noticed that the wedding and Pesach have a few things in common. A Jewish wedding ceremony is an orderly, step-by-step process, much like the 15-step programme of the Pesach Seder (seder means "order"). Both ceremonies are punctuated with wine. On Pesach night, you must drink four cups of wine and the bride and groom each sip wine twice under the wedding canopy, essentially making "four cups" in that process too.

It made me think that the Four Cups offer a good template for successful marriage.

Cup 1: Dedicate
The first cup of the Seder is used to say Kiddush, the traditional prayer that blesses the holiday. Kadesh means "sanctify". Before we start the Pesach process, we declare that will be a holy or spiritual experience.

Marriage also begins with sanctity. The ritual where the groom places a ring on his bride's finger is called "kiddushin", meaning that he consecrates her as his bride.

Step one of a successful marriage is to start off on a holy-footing. A new couple should appreciate that a life built on a sense of higher purpose and solid values has the greatest chance for success.

Cup 2: Communicate
Pesach is all about telling the Exodus story. It's no good to sit quietly and read the history on your own, Pesach is an interactive experience of question and answer, a parent sharing the past with his child. According to the famed kabbalist Rabbi Isaac Luria, Pesach is comprised of two words: Peh sach, the mouth tells. Seder night is all about conversation and communication.

Marriage thrives on intra-couple communication. When you tell our spouse what's on your heart and mind or even when you simply share what happened during your day, you enhance you relationship. Talk to each other and your marriage will blossom.

Cup 3: Appreciate
After reading the Exodus story and enjoying a sumptuous meal, we thank G-d for the food He provides and the miracles He performs.

As a couple settles into the steady rhythm of marriage, they run the risk of taking each other for granted. She cooks each night and he brings home a salary; she gets the kids ready and he maintains the garden. When you notice your spouse's input and show appreciation, you add tremendous value to your relationship. Thank you's go a long way in enhancing marriage, especially when you offer them for those "ordinary" things that "all couples do". Remember also to thank G-d each day that you have someone significant at your side.

Cup 4: Anticipate
We end our Seder and drain the final cup with a wish for a better tomorrow. "Next year in Jerusalem" is the fervent hope of every Jew as our Seder draws to a close.

No matter how wonderful your marriage is, as they say in Yiddish "if good is good, surely better must be better".

Pesach's coming...

2010-03-19T08:32:00.001+02:00

Pesach and panic seem cosmically interwoven. I bet the yiddelach of the shtetl were a whole lot calmer about their Pesach prep than their post-modern grandchildren are today. Back then, they cleaned their two or three rooms, kashered their handful of utensils and got to work cleaning chickens, boiling schmaltz and baking Matzah. Today, we moan about the price of macaroons and the shortage of potato chips as we phone-order exaggerated meat and fish deliveries so we can lay out a spread that nobody will finish.

Shtetl dwellers would sometimes buy new shoes, a jacket or a skirt for Yom Tov. Your elter-bobba never dreamed of a new wardrobe for her wedding, let alone for Pesach. You can be sure they didn’t fuss over the Seder decor either (a bunch of spring flowers would have been a treat).

What they did have in their claustrophobic, fire-trap little homes was Yom Tov spirit. Our ancestors had little, yet they shared a lot. Somehow, they always managed to dish up an extra ladle of soup for an unexpected guest. Their guests didn’t sit at place-marked seats and often were neither family nor friends. In all likelihood, your great-zeida would bring home some vagabonds each Seder night.

Pesach is around the corner and our frenzied preparations are hitting fever-pitch. We want to impress our Seder guests, inspire ourselves and leave our children with warm Pesach memories. And there’s nothing wrong with that- Pesach should be uplifting, enjoyable and memorable. To play Pesach right is to feel empowered and liberated at the end of it.

But, if Pesach breeds stress, leaves you on edge or turns into an “outdo the Cohens” exercise, then you have become a slave to Pesach.

Rosh Chodesh was on this past Tuesday. Tuesday is the one time during Creation when G-d said “it is good” twice. The Talmud explains that it was “good for the heavens and good for the people”. Practically, this means that Tuesday represents the balance between personal spiritual bliss and helping others feel good. When Nissan- the month of Pesach- starts on a Tuesday, it reminds us that a real Pesach is as much about helping others feel good as it is about making ourselves feel good.

You may know someone who doesn’t feel good- perhaps they’re battling financially and can’t make a Seder like they used to; maybe they’re alienated from their family and will spend Pesach alone; possibly they’re disinterested in celebrating Pesach in the first place. If you know such a person, involve them. Helping someone else experience and enjoy Pesach- even if it’s challenging to do- makes your Pesach worthwhile.

Always trust your Instruments

2010-03-12T08:48:00.003+02:00

We drove up to Bela Bela (formerly Warmbaths) on Tuesday evening to join the South African Shluchim Conference. We dodged the M1 parking lot and snaked along the Old Pretoria Rd. and back on to the N1 Polokwane. Most of the journey was straight forward and our directions indicated we should take the "Settlers" turnoff. Once off the highway, we traveled down a potholed country road, swallowed by the inky night.

We must have driven for twenty minutes without finding the T-junction that our map showed as being five minutes away. Seeing as the "straight-forward" directions were not so straight forward, we pulled out the GPS to guide us. "Turn right" it announced, we veered into a tiny rural suburb (the single-pump petrol station had closed by eight, which wasn't very reassuring). Through the suburb, "turn right", onto a country road "turn right". Our GPS had taken us on the lengthiest U-turn imaginable.

Our map had suggested we were only 30km from our destination, the GPS warned it would take an hour to get there. We began to wonder if the GPS knew what it was doing. A quick vote in the car revealed that we would trust the GPS.

Our headlights lit a narrow section of the endless road as we wondered if the GPS might take us to Botswana. But, we soon drove through the town of Bela Bela and found the gravel road that lead to the lodge we were staying at. We arrived at the precise time the GPS had indicated.

Driving home, we decided to let the GPS guide us out to the highway. Soon enough, we were back in that little town and following the logical path back to the highway. Again, the GPS concocted a convoluted route, which we followed, knowing it would include a "three right turns" stunt. I guess our GPS has spiritual leanings; it took us right past the old kosher butchery, a remnant of Warmbaths' thriving Jewish community. The "slaghuis" has a pig painted on the facade, but stil retains the "Kosher" signs from the old days.

As we neared Pretoria, the traffic thickened again and we were tipped off that there would be major delays. GPS came to the rescue again, suggesting an alternative route that slipped us past the gridlock, through back suburbs and back onto the free-flowing highway.

We often think we know the best routes to take in life- how to make money, what will bring us happiness, how to raise wholesome children. You can easily get lost on the road of life and land up at a destination that looks nothing like where you wanted to be. Pull out your GPS- your G-d positioning system. Hashem knows the routes, the shortcuts and the places of interest that get you home safely. You only need to follow His prompts.

LET'S BE HONEST NOW...

2010-03-05T17:25:00.002+02:00

It’s time to debunk some myths. These perceptions are common to most people- you may well have mulled them over yourself- but it’s time to say it like it is: “They’re false!”

MYTH 1: IF HASHEM WOULD... I WOULD

We’re all waiting for that special miracle in our lives. G-d is a nice idea. We understand- in theory- that we should do all those things that He wants us to do. But, if He would just drop in and say “hi”, you know, show us a sign that He’s around and that He cares, then we’d commit to doing whatever He wants. “If I make that deal, I’ll give more charity”; “When my mother recovers, I’ll start keeping Shabbos”.

History proves that this idyllic theory doesn’t work.

Hashem took the Jews out of Egypt. For 210 years, they had dreamed of living Egypt and I’m sure they uttered their fair share of pledges of what they’d do when the grand day would arrive. They got more than they bargained for- Exodus, splitting the Sea, living off heaven-sent fast food and enjoying climate control in the harsh desert. To top it off, Hashem Himself spoke to them, telling them exactly what he wanted.

It didn’t help. Just weeks after history’s greatest Divine revelation, as they stood there at Sinai, the Jews turned their back on G-d and made a Golden Calf.

Commitment comes from commitment, not from inspiration.

MYTH 2: YOU’RE ON A LOSING WICKET, YOU MAY AS WELL GIVE UP

We’d all like to be inspired and consistently grow in our Yiddishkeit. You imagine the goals you need to attain in your Judaism and what it will take to achieve them. You set off confidentaly to make the minyan, learn Torah regularly, keep kosher or avoid speaking badly of others. You get off to a flying start,

But, then you oversleep one morning, watch the soccer instead of the shiur, grab a Steers burger on impulse or blurt out some hot gossip. Before you know it, you’ve lost sight of our goals, promises to self and spiritual direction.

That’s understandable. Your biggest mistake would be to say “Oh well”, throw up your hands in despair and go with the flow.

The Jews messed up terribly when they made the Golden Calf. Rather than despair, they turned 180 degrees, fixed their act, got new Tablets and even brought about a new Yom Tov- Yom Kippur. Bouncing back from failure is more powerful than straight success.

Are we living in the past?

2010-02-16T15:48:00.000+02:00

Israel is such a diverse little country that you can choose between a wide range of touring options. You could snorkel in the Red Sea, enjoy Tel Aviv's nightlife and still get your picture taken at the Western Wall. Or, you might jeep through the Negev, hike Masada and float on the Dead Sea. If you're a history buff, you'll love the museums and marvel at the multi-layered archeology buried in Israel's sands.

We chose the religious sites trip, visiting Israel's four holy cities. First stop was Jerusalem's Old City and the Western Wall, or Kotel. Bemused tourists looked on as every shade of Jew came to find solace, connection or inspiration at this ancient Wall.

I've always had a bittersweet relationship with the Kotel. I stand there in awe of our holiest site, the portal to G-d. But, I stand frustrated at being on the outside. That stone wall is an unmoving barrier, a constant in-your-face reminder that we are children locked out of our father's house. Those bright, cracked stones recall what was, but is no longer. How can you possibly be happy standing there?

Next on our holy cities circuit was Chevron, city of the Patriarchs and original seat of David's throne. On the way down, our guide spoke Yinglish as he pointed out the ancient Judean hills that now sprout modern Jewish settlements. We soon arrived at Rachel's tomb (now a veritable fortress to protect visitors from the less-than-friendly neighbouring Arabs), where we stopped to daven. We then proceeded to Chevron. Standing at the burial sites of our Patriarchs and Matriarchs while uttering the words "G-d of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob" in the Amidah was moving.

A few days later, we traveled north and visited the holy gravesites in the remaining holy cities of Tiberias and Tzfat. Our holy-site tally included the graves of Rabbi Akivah and his pious wife Rachel, Maimonides, sages of the Talmud and Kabbalists of Tzfat, along with prophets and biblical characters. I have photos of lots of graves.

Early on in our whirlwind grave-hopper tour I started to get that Kotel feeling again. Each burial plot commemorated someone who used to walk on Israel's holy soil; someone who once-upon-a-time inspired our nation. It was easy to start thinking that all the good stuff lies buried in history.

My awakening came at the Arizal's grave. Rabbi Isaac Luria was the 16th Century Kabbalist who brought Jewish mysticism to the people. I had spent this past year researching his life and teachings, so standing at his resting place was more than just "another" grave. He was alive for me; I could sense his presence. In his proximity, my eyes opened. I wanted to go back and start again- to re-experience all the other graves, not as markers of who our nation's heroes used to be, but as places where you can connect with them today.

The righteous never die, even as they leave our world. Once you enter their domain, your soul enmeshes in theirs. You could make the tourist mistake, snap a photo, say a Psalm and move to the next "point of interest" on your rental car's GPS. But, when you stand quietly and think of whose space you've entered, everything changes. You are no longer visiting a spiritual museum, you've entered a dynamic soul-hub. Your prayers take wing here; your heart is unlocked. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Rachel or Maimonides and Rabbi Meir Ba'al Hanes don't linger in the past, they remain linked to us, they look out for us, they inspire us still today.

Israel is not the Land of the Past, it is alive in the present.

As the sun peeked over the Kotel the next morning, I wound my Tefillin around my arm. I no longer felt stonewalled by G-d, standing on the outside reminiscing about what was. Our prayers reverberated in my mind with G-d's eternal promise of renewal, of a restored Jerusalem- the promise of Moshiach. The Kotel represents the glory we used to enjoy. It also represents the promise of greater glory to come. Jerusalem is the city of the future.

Rainbow nation

2010-02-12T09:47:00.000+02:00

A cool breeze soothed us into Shabbos spirit as we walked towards the Jaffa Gate into the Old City. Mamilla mall was quiet, the GAP and Ralph Lauren stores closed. All you could hear was the echoing footsteps of dozens streaming through towards the Western Wall.

We entered through the Jaffa Gate and joined the faithful throngs who walked through the Arab shuk. "Shabbat shalom!", the non-observant security guards manning the security checkpoint before the Wall warmly announced as we arrived. We passed through the metal detectors and stopped. Dozens of steps would lead us to the plaze, but the scene below was riveting. The Kotel was alive. It pulsated with the rhythm of thousands as they swayed, prayed and danced. The mens sectioned thronged in black, peppered with green IDF uniforms and flecks of white, gold and casual-wear. The women's section was a celebration of colour.

I had forgotten how spectacular the Kotel is on a Friday night.

Mesmerised, we made our way into the crowd. Inside the human sea, you could distinguish its varied currents. Just ahead, to the left was a huge contingent of Chassidim, their peyos swinging as they davened in ecstasy. To our right, a Shlomo Carlebach minyan, singing every word of the ancient prayers. Immediately to their left modern Orthodox Jews chanted a traditional Lecha Dodi. Behind my left shoulder a man in white, his eyes tightly shut, led the services word for word, loudly and clearly. Directly behind us was a group from Judea, knitted kippot on their heads and determination in their eyes. Even further back American students on the Birthright tour marveled at their first taste of the Kotel's Shabbos magic. On the right two dozen paratroopers danced in a circle, M16's bouncing on their backs; privates with arms on their commanding officer's shoulders.

It was a dizzying array of diversity. So many Jews; so many differences. Each group sang its own tunes and used its own siddur. You could tell their affiliation from the nuances of their garb and head-coverings. A thought flashed through my mind: "We're all in the same place, celebrating the same Shabbos. Why do we all have to do it differently?"

A soldier whirled by, joy splashed across his duty-weary face as the Chassidim next door proclaimed the Shema and a father lifted his son onto his shoulders. Yes, each group was distinct, but there was a comfortable peace within that diversity.

We all faced the same direction as uttered the same fundamental declarations of a shared faith, while celebrating the same Shabbos. Every group reverberated with energy, yet respected the goings on of others around it. Friday night at the Kotel is a reminder that we can live a different brand of Torah Judaism from the next community, yet we can still stand together.

In Judaism, unity does not require uniformity.

A blessing on your head

2010-02-10T17:23:00.000+02:00

It had been almost ten years since my last visit to Israel. Naomi and I were supremely excited to travel there for ten days at the end of last month (I'll admit that holidaying sans kids added to the anticipation).

In the near-decade since last time, nothing has changed and much has changed. Kissing the mezuzah on the way in to the airport made us feel right at home. Ben Gurion International has experienced Extreme Makeover since I last saw it- it's big, modern (with the traditional Jerusalem stone touch) and efficient (our suitcases made it out before us). New highways crisscross the country (all in excellent condition) alongside high-speed trains that run between the burgeoning major cities.

We were based in Jerusalem (where else?), which is a slick, modern city superimposed over ancient cultures and historic structures that beckon from in between the high-rises, all set against the backdrop of Eternity. Even the smaller towns (like Tsfat) have had a facelift. You feel growth and development everywhere.

But, nothing's changed.

Israelis still drive recklessly, have poor manners, walk right into you on the street and chain-smoke. Security remains a concern, yet the populace lives. Despite disproportionate global condemnation, Ahmadinejad's nuclear jihad, Syria's agitation and Hizbolla and Hamas' ongoing belligerence (not to mention the volatility of Israeli Arabs), Israelis laugh and go about their business. Six-year-olds walk their baby siblings to school (even in such hotbeds as Hebron) and take late-night buses.

Back in Joburg, people lock themselves up at night. 9PM is the unofficial curfew for many and fear of crime s more paralysing than violent crime itself. We could learn something from the Israelis.

There's something else we could learn from them.

You cannot be a Jewish tourist in Israel. As soon as you arrive there, you are considered family. You'll be jostled on the street like anyone else; they'll offer unsolicited advice on your clothes and shopping choices (like the woman at the Machane Yehudah market who told Naomi which pomegranates she should put back and which she should keep). Israelis will yell at you (as our taxi driver did when it took more than 30 seconds to load our luggage) or call you- a perfect stranger- motek/ sweety. Or they'll flit back and forth between both attitudes in one conversation (like our taxi driver). They treat you like family with no holds barred.

(We passed an altercation on Ben Yehudah Street on Friday, a street vendor was screaming at two heavily armed policemen. A friend noted that every second person in Israel carries a weapon, yet they bawl each other out in the streets. Normal people would never confront someone who is armed, but Israelis are family and know that a screaming match goes no further than that.)

What touched us most about Israelis- and this is a great lesson for us all- is how they dish out blessings. We entered shops and they returned our "Shalom" with "uvracha". Before Shabbos they wished us and they added a timely "Chag Sameach" for Tu Bishvat (an almost non-event outside Israel). On the way out of shops, restaurants, taxis and our hotel, we were wished success, a safe trip and a string of other brochos. All from strangers- or rather family we'd never met before.

According to the Talmud even a simpleton's blessing is potent. Proffering sincere blessings rather than the pleasantries that Westerners habitually exchange creates a positive environment and a healthy attitude towards the next person. It also brings blessing because G-d treats us as we treat others.

Give someone a blessing today.

The stuff the military is/ should be made of

2010-01-17T14:34:00.000+02:00

Jews are eternal optimists. We've weathered many storms and survived unimaginable national nightmares while maintaining the undying belief that the world will become a better place. We've always hoped that this global improvement would come quickly, but never before have we seen so much evidence that it's on our doorstep. Now, we're 100% convinced that Moshiach is bo longer a dream, but a reality that's unfolding in front of our eyes.

A key change that's coming with Moshiach is world peace. To be precise, it's not simply about nations burying the hatchet, it's about them converting that hatchet into a tool for life enhancement. Isaiah, the prophet, expressed it clearly when he said "they will beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning forks".

Note: Isaiah didn't just predict that Peoples would kiss and make up. Peace treaties have been around forever and don't indicate anything out of the ordinary. Using weapons technologies- or the weapons themselves- to help people, now that should pique your curiosity.

Truth be told, it's happening all the time.

Internet, lasers and satellite were all developed by the military, but are used today by you and I. Scientists split the atom so wars would be won, and today nuclear power stations lights up our lives . Russian ICBM's have largely shed their warheads and now launch satellites and scientific payloads into Space.

Haiti's recent earthquake draws attention to yet another element of sword-to-ploughshare conversion. In the last week, the USA has effectively invaded the poor Carribean country. Some 10 000 U.S. troops have poured into the area, an armada of warships (including the carrier USS Carl Vinson, one of the world's largest warships) have sped to the area and US spy drones crisscross overhead.

But, this is the sort of invasion we're glad to see. History is replete with belligerent, colonial or expansionist invasions by foreign nations. With wars in Afganistan and Iraq, it's refreshing to see a Superpower flex its muscle to save lives and create contingencies to help a floundering nation.

Probably the most telling chapter of the story is the unmanned Global Hawk drone that was already en route to Afganistan before the Pentagon diverted it to become an eye in the sky for rescue workers in Haiti. Humanitarianism outdoes war in this episode, reminding us that our world's slowly getting it.

There's some Moshiach-flavour to the Haiti relief efforts. Hopefully there's enough to remind us to bury our personal hatchets too.

After all, the world's becoming a better place. We need to make sure our personal world is in sync.

Special thanks to Aryeh Pels for drawing my attention to these developments.

Haiti- what can I do?

2010-01-15T11:55:00.000+02:00

Haiti must be punch-drunk by now. The Western hemisphere’s poorest country is wracked by TB and sees some 30 000 malaria cases each year, while less than half of the population has access to health care. Political violence has been the norm in Haiti for most of its history and a series of four serious hurricanes destroyed much of that country’s infrastructure in 2008.

This week’s devastating earthquake rattled Haiti’s wobbly foundations, displaced millions and killed around 100 000.

Modern governments pull together in troubled times. The Dominican Republic ignored historical tensions with neighbouring Haiti and rushed to assist. Brazil, France, the USA, Britain, South Africa and many others have scrambled rescue teams and aid to help the beleaguered nation. It is heart-warming to watch nations pull together to help a People in crisis.

Consider, though, that Haiti’s tzorres didn’t begin with this week’s earthquake. These people live a daily humanitarian crisis. Hundreds quietly die there each day for lack of food or medicine. No drama surrounds their deaths, so no cameras capture them, so there is no urgent response. Haiti needs a long-term relief programme as much as it needs emergency intervention.

Nations behave just like people do. We also rally together and put our differences aside in the face of disaster. But, when people around us struggle with their chronic issues- the silent nigglings of life, not the explosive tragedies- we get on with our own lives. We grow impassive to their strain and often lapse into apathy or even antipathy.

A Jew is meant to read the world, hear its messages and respond in kind. We can do little to ease the difficulties of Haitians, but we should consider what we can do to alleviate the troubles of a family or community member.

We need not wait for a crisis, we can step in to help at any time.

Help Friendship Circle Win $1 Million

2010-01-13T11:51:00.000+02:00

Friendship Circle does amazing work to help tens of thousands of special needs children around the world. Help them win a $1 million grant for their amazing work!

Vote FC - Help Friendship Circle Win $1 Million

Muslim Attacker Bites Rabbi at Vienna Chanukah Lighting - News Briefs - Israel National News

2009-12-13T15:28:00.000+02:00

Crazy world!
Muslim Attacker Bites Rabbi at Vienna Chanukah Lighting - News Briefs - Israel National News

Space race

2009-11-27T12:43:00.000+02:00

“Charlie Buttons” is an eccentric who’s been part of the landscape of “770” for as long as anyone can remember. He wanders in wearing denim dungarees and a cap that sports various badges and buttons, and he always has a strange slogan to share. He targeted last week’s message at the thousands of Shluchim who had converged on Crown Heights for the annual Shluchim Conference. “I’m going to be a Shluchim (sic) on the Moon,” he happily announced up and down the Shul.

Many feel that Charlie already lives in Outer Space, but he’s an unlikely candidate for running the first lunar Chabad House. Make no mistake- there will be one. As soon as the first Jews settle on the Moon, you can bet Chabad will be there.

Space travel has historically been limiting- it costs a fortune and you have to be in prime health to make the journey. But, as the Shuttle fleet is set to retire, NASA is now looking to develop a cheaper way to get people into space. One radical concept that they’re seriously considering is the Space Elevator- a system that anchors a satellite to Earth’s equator, allowing us to move payloads up and down the 40 000km of cable. Clearly, there are many obstacles to this project, but they’re pursuing it seriously.

NASA’s inspiration for the Space Elevator may have come from this week’s Torah portion. In it we read how Yaakov dreams of a ladder linking Heaven and Earth on which angels climb and descend.

Yaakov’s dream-ladder is still in place- even if you can’t see it. It links us to G-d, allowing us to shoot our bundles of wishes up to Him and He to deliver blessings to us. Kabbalah calls it the ladder of prayer. When you start your prayer journey, you’re rooted on terra firma, but as you delve into its meditative embrace, you can break life’s gravitational pull and soar heavenward.

It may still take NASA years to hook us up with a Space Elevator system, but the cable that connects us on High is in working order, can carry any load and operates faster than NASA will ever be able to. With that technology at our disposal, we really should use it more often.

My Zaida was a rabbi

2009-11-05T15:32:00.002+02:00

A very religious Jew traveling through Europe stopped overnight at a B&B. He noticed a mezuzah on the door and wondered if he could rely on the kosher standard of the institution. He approached the bare-headed owner, who was manning the front desk and asked if he served kosher food.

“Look there,” the proprietor announced, indicating an aging photo of a man with a tangled white beard, “That was my father! Surely, you can rely on the kashrut of my food!”

The guest smiled slightly and replied: “If this was your father’s establishment and he had a photo of you hanging on the wall, I’d feel more comfortable eating here.”

Jews love to tell you about their pedigree, how frum their father or grandfather was or how their grandmother chaired the ladies’ guild back in the “old country”. “Oh, you’re a Hurwitz, are you related to the famous Kabbalist Rabbi Horowitz?” (When I introduce myself, I usually: “Is that a Jewish surname? I’ve never heard of it before...”)

Rabbi Dovber, the successor to the Ba’al Shem Tov, watched his house burn down when he was a young boy. His mother was devastated and he tried to console her, arguing that valuables are replaceable. But, she explained that her family tree, tracing their pedigree to King David had gone up in flames and could never be recovered. Little Dovber grinned and assured her that he would make sure to start a new famous family tree.

It’s each man for himself in Judaism. You can’t ride on the achievements of your parents, nor can you blame your failings on theirs.

Avraham’s father was an idolator, yet he became the father of monotheism. Rivkah’s family were crooks, yet she became one of the most pious people ever. Even Moshiach’s lineage is embarrassing. His original ancestors include Moab, a child born from the incest of Lot and his daughter.

Don’t tell us who you parents were; show us who you are.

We all mess up sometimes

2009-10-30T00:41:00.002+02:00

One step forward, two steps back. Ever find yourself doing that?

You manage two full weeks back at gym, but oversleep one morning and go downhill from there. Business seems on track, then suddenly goes quiet. Your Rosh Hashanah resolution looked promising, but you don’t feel so motivated any longer.

It can get frustrating to have a setback as you start making progress. No matter how motivated you feel or how convinced you are that “this time” you’ll stick with the programme, there will always be an obstacle along the way. Life’s speed bumps can bring us to grinding halt.

Backsliding is nothing new. 3900 years ago, Avraham had a similar problem. G-d Himself appeared to Avraham and set him off on a journey of discovery by telling him “Lech Lecha”, or as Johnnie Walker would say: “Keep walking”. “Lech lecha” doesn’t just mean “go”, it means continue to progress and develop in an unbroken upward motion. G-d essentially promised Avraham that he would never fail.

Yet, shortly after reaching his objective, the land of Canaan, Avraham had to leave. Famine in the land forced him to travel to Egypt, Earth’s most immoral country.

One second! What happened to the up-and-up message of “Lech lecha”? How could G-d promise Avraham consistent spiritual development and then send him off to Egypt? Avraham and Sarah had a rough landing when they got there- Sarah abducted by Pharaoh and Avraham scrambling to protect his own life. It seems a far cry from the grand Divine promise.

Read the story and you’ll notice that Avraham remains unperturbed by this unexpected twist of fate. He was a wise man, who understood the meaning behind life’s disappointments.

Avraham appreciated that growing spiritually and becoming a better person is not only about going up. You need to slip too. You need to mess up so that you can fix up; fail so you can grow stronger. Avraham trusted G-d that heading “down” to Egypt was really part of the process of rising up. Because he had the right attitude, Avraham bounced back, changed the trajectory of humankind and fathered the Jewish nation.

Next time you get all motivated and then let yourself down, remember to make it part of your journey to rise even higher.

The Babel... uh Nobel Peace Prize

2009-10-23T13:52:00.000+02:00

I’ve been wondering about the Barack Obama Nobel Peace Prize thing for a while now. Either Obama has achieved incredible believability in record time or they’ve changed the Nobel Prize requirement from “creating change” to “pledging to make a change”. Obama’s “audacity of hope” clearly got the Norwegians hoping.

People like Tobias Asser (1911 Jewish Peace Prize winner), Sir Joseph Rotblat (most recent Jewish Peace Prize winner) or Ada Yonath (also Jewish, this year’s chemistry laureate) all worked for decades to earn their Noble accolade. Obama was cited for the prize a mere ten days into his presidency. When he jets off to collect the prize in Oslo, his country is likely to still be at war on two fronts.

What’s more intriguing than the question of why Obama made the grade is the question of why so few Jews have ever received it. 22% of all Nobel Prize winners are Jewish (that’s not bad coming from less than 1% of the World’s population). We have impressive numbers of Nobel laureates for medicine, chemistry, physics and economics, but only nine Peace Prize recipients!

That’s strange. Jews have always been peace activists. Our belief system pivots on peace, we end our daily prayers with a plea for peace and our Sages teach that the G-d gave us the Torah for one sole purpose: to bring peace to the world. How, then, were we overlooked in the Peace Prize race?

You can solve part of the mystery by referring to this week’s Torah portion. After the Great Flood, we’re told, people banded together to build a great new civilization. Earlier generations had undone their society through strife, jealousy and simple disrespect and G-d had destroyed them. Their descendants figured they could fix those ills by building a single society, built around a massive iconic tower that would always remind everyone of this ideal. Babel’s citizens wanted peace.

Strangely, G-d disapproved. He swooped down, thwarted their plans, mixed up their languages (they had all spoken Hebrew until then) and made sure they could never work together again.

Does G-d have something against peace?

A closer inspection of this story reveals a deeply profound message. Yes, they wanted peace; yes they wanted to live in harmony; yes they dreamed of a united humankind. But they wanted it for the wrong reasons. In outlining their plan, their leaders announced: “Let us build a city, with a tower reaching the Heavens... so that we will not be dispersed across the Earth”. Sounds noble enough, doesn’t it?

It would have been, but they inserted one corrupt phrase into their proposal: “Let us build a city… to make a name for ourselves”.

If you want peace, chase peace. When you pursue peace because you want to make a name for yourself, to leave a legacy, to earn the title “Man of Peace”, you’ll never achieve peace. In fact, you will likely create terrible conflicts.

Peace stretches beyond individuals and their egos. Peace is the foundation of Life itself. To reach peace, you need to forget yourself.

This story and, in fact, all of Torah has taught us one fundamental lesson: Jews are into peace, not prizes.

Some water with your wine?

2009-10-02T00:50:00.002+02:00

Imagine you’re at an upscale restaurant for dinner. You order lamb chops and a glass of Merlot. Your waiter returns, bottle in hand (cloth draped over his arm), pours your wine and tops your glass up with some mineral water...

The Romans and Greeks used to dilute their wine to temper its potency, but modern connoisseurs would cringe at the thought of adding water to theirs. It’s not just a matter of taste- Judaism teaches that the difference between wine and water runs deeper than flavour and colour.

Nowadays, you can find a wide range of filtered, mineral and flavoured waters and you can probably taste the difference between different water brands. But, good ol’ water was never known for its taste. You drank water to survive, not to enjoy. Wine was what people would drink for pleasure, as we do today. Water keeps you alive; wine makes you happy. These two beverages may mix in the glass, but they don’t mix in concept.

Back in Temple days, Jews would bring daily offerings to Hashem that included wine. You’ve surely heard people compare Torah to water, but we compare it to wine as well. Just as you enjoy the ta’am, the taste of wine, you enjoy the ta’am, the rationale and meaning that Torah offers. We are a nation of thinkers who boast Talmudists who could run philosophical circles around Socrates and minds that have revolutionised science, psychology, politics and entertainment. We enjoy our “wine”.

As delicious as wine is, we also need water to survive. In fact, we need water more than wine.

Every Sukkos, they would pour water on the Temple’s altar. Ironically, the wine libation was par for the course; drizzling water on the altar was cause for celebration. The Talmud notes that the merrymaking that accompanied the drawing of this water was so intense that anyone who missed seeing it doesn’t know what real rejoicing is. You’d have thought that more wine would mean more joy, yet Judaism finds joy in water.

Human nature dictates that if we understand what we’re doing, we enjoy doing it; if we don’t understand it, we do it mechanically. Judaism flips that theory on its head and tells us that a Jew needs a good balance between intellectual appreciation (wine) and loyal commitment to the Cause (water). Just as they used to pour both wine and water on the altar, we need to build a relationship with G-d that comprises both dimensions.

We imagine that we will find greater satisfaction if we understand Judaism. Actually, we find exponentially more delight in our dogged dedication to simply doing what He expects of us.

Light a candle of truth

2009-09-27T10:29:00.000+02:00

The Jewish world stands a little straighter this week, emboldened by Prime Minister Netanyahu's telling-it-like-it-is at the UN last Thursday. Bibi lashed out against Ahmadinejad's Holocaust-myth rhetoric, blasted the UN's anti-Israel bias and reminded the crowd that the message of world peace engraved on the entrance to the UN was composed by a Jewish prophet, Isaiah, walking in our land 2800 years ago.

Time will tell if Netanyahu's courage will carry from the General Assembly podium to Knesset decision-making. But, the speech was clearly impressive, "Churchillian" they're calling it- direct and brutally honest.

Where did Bibi get the guts to stand up to the world? Was he inspired by his older brother Yoni, the Sayeret Matkal commander who gave his life to save others at Entebbe?

Bibi's spontaneous answer, to an Israeli journalist just outisde the General Assembly, is surprising. Netanyahu was appointed Israeli ambassador to the United Nations in 1984. Shortly after taking the post, a friend suggested he attend the Simchas Torah celebrations with the Lubavitcher Rebbe at Chabad-Lubavitch HQ in Brooklyn.

Before the festivities kicked off, the Rebbe spoke to Netanyahu for forty minutes, much to the surprise and frustration of the Chassidim who were eager to start the proceedings.

"The Rebbe told me," Netanyahu explains, "You are going to the UN and you will find there an assembly hall filled with infinite falsehood and utter darkness. Your challenge is to light a candle of truth in that darkness."

25 years later, last Thursday, Bibi got to light that candle.

Last week was Rosh Hashanah and we flipped the calendar page to 5770, which has all the markings of a powerful year. 770 has the gematriya (numerical value) of "poratzto", meaning to burst forth, break barriers and shift paradigms. Less than a week into this special year, Prime Minister Netanyahu did "poratzto" in the UN. 25 years ago, the Rebbe planted the seed that burst into the open last week. Hopefully, Israel will keep the "poratzto" momentum and stand strong and proud.

You and I may not be able to change Israel or address the UN. But, we can shift our own paradigms. We all have a "hall of lies and darkness" inside our own minds: self-doubt, apathy and an urge to please the world. Tonight is Kippur, time to reasses and reinvent ourselves, time for our personal "poratzto". Time to confront our personal "hall of darkness" and tell it where to get off.

G'mar Chatimah Tovah!

Stand on your head!

2009-09-25T11:47:00.002+02:00

This week I heard a poignant story from a colleague overseas. A woman in his community shared a unique anecdote about her father as a child. It was Yom Kippur and the young boy accompanied his father to Shul. During the service, the congregation’s focus was disturbed when the lad walked to the front of the Shul and did a handstand in front of the Ark. Embarrassed, his father quickly led him back to his seat and then asked what had possessed the boy to do something so strange.

The youngster replied simply: “You told me that we have to do something difficult on Yom Kippur, and for me that was difficult”.

Different people experience Yom Kippur differently. For some, it’s a meaningful, focused and inspiring time when they are swept up in the experience of the day, barely noticing the fast. Others struggle with not eating or, more often, not drinking but push themselves to daven and to try connect. Then there are those who check in for the main services- Kol Nidrei, Yizkor and maybe Neilah- then quickly check out. Some Jews don’t even get to Shul, they simply sleep the day away and count the hours till it’s over.

Group A often looks askance at the others, who they feel miss the point of what this special day is about. Well, maybe they are the ones who have missed the plot. Those of us who understand the service and get involved and inspired because we appreciate what’s going on feel comfortable in Shul. We’re not in Shul out of dedication nor do we find it difficult to be there. Those who come to Shul begrudgingly because they “have to” are challenging themselves. If someone comes to Shul and cannot read Hebrew or doesn’t relate to the service they clearly are not there for their own benefit- they’re out of simple dedication to G-d. Dedication is worth far more than going through the motions or even feeling inspired.

This Yom Kippur, we need to challenge ourselves; to find something difficult to do; to take our commitment over those 24 hours to a completely new level.We need to stand on our heads. G-d always responds to us in line with our movement towards Him, hopefully He will take the tzoris in our lives and turn it on its head too.

Leshana Tovah ti... how do you say it again?

2009-09-17T13:03:00.002+02:00

Every Rosh Hashanah people get tongue-tied trying to pronounce the official First-night greeting. Having a different formula for men, women and groups doesn’t help, especially if your Hebrew is not so hot in the first place. The good news is, you can say it in whichever language you prefer. What is more important is that you mean it.

From sunset on Friday evening until the first morning of Rosh Hashanah, G-d judges the world and determines everything that will happen for the next year, It’s an unnerving time and we’d certainly like to do whatever we can to ensure He sets up a good year fo us.

We come to Shul, pray with extra focus and hope we can convince Him that we’ve been good and deserve blessing.

Here’s a secret that can help us all guarantee ourselves a good year ahead: Wish other people a good year. Sound too simple (or perhaps superficial)?

We make a serious mistake- we don’t take our own blessings seriously enough. The Talmud warns that you should never underestimate even a simpleton’s blessing.

When he was just fourteen, the fourth Lubavitcher Rebbe commented how he could sense the tremendous joy on High that people’s “Leshana Tovah” greeting would generate. His father taught that two angels accompany every Jew to Shul on Rosh Hashanah. When they hear us bless each other with a good year, they fly up to Heaven and argue that we all deserve blessings for the coming year.

Jews believe that G-d wants the best for us and that He enjoys the greatest nachas from seeing us wish each other well. Praying in Shul is important, but wholeheartedly wishing your neighbour a good year might be even more valuable.

Whether you know the correct formula or not, make sure that you mean it when you say whatever you say. And make sure you say it to as many people as possible.

Shana Tovah, may you have a year with less stress and more cash, sustained spiritual growth and good health, extra nachas and inner-peace, all enjoyed against the backdrop of a stable and tranquil world awakening to spiritual awareness- or as we Jews like to say: Moshiach now!

High Holidays Trailer

2009-09-16T09:06:00.003+02:00

Breakfast

2009-09-11T13:41:00.000+02:00

The scene is always the same. She sits down with her bowl of cereal, I might be eating eggs, a roll, a salad- it really makes no difference. She usually has a cup of juice or some tea to go with her breakfast; I try to make sure it’s placed as far from me as possible.

Fortunately, today she doesn’t spill her drink (she almost destroyed my laptop once and has splashed on my trousers many times). She’s happy, eating her cereal and splattering less than usual (although milk droplets wobble on her chin). I offer her a tissue and ask her what she plans to do today. She changes the subject, telling me instead what she did and her sister did yesterday. I follow most of what she’s telling me, but lose the thread here and there when the conversation turns to babble.

She leans over and pilfers a piece of what I’m eating- without asking. I smile and say nothing.

She never asks me about my day, what’s happening in my life, how things are going. She offers little information about her own activities or even her feelings. She has yet to tell me what her dreams are.

I have now finished eating and get up, ready to start my day. She ignores me, scoops a cornflake from the table into her mouth.

We haven’t discussed anything meaningful and seem to live in completely different worlds. Yet, I have loved every moment of our time together. I wish this little time capsule of pure love would last forever. I have just eaten breakfast with my two-year-old.

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“Avinu Malkeinu, Avinu Atah”, the Rosh Hashanah liturgy reminds us that G-d is our father. We may look like a sloppy two-year-old when we perform his instructions and our prayers probably sound incoherent. But, He loves us all the same and cherishes every moment that we spend with him.

I've arrived??

2009-09-04T14:32:00.002+02:00

Someone recently emailed me a video clip that shows a lead car race driver bungle his win. The clip shows the car zip around the last bend and speed towards the finish. Confident of a win, the driver vigorously waves his fist out of the window, loses control of the car and smashes into the barrier, just two metres before the checkered flag. There’s a lesson- you haven’t arrived until you arrive.

We always read the portion “Ki Savo” before Rosh Hashanah. It opens with the law of Bikkurim, taking first fruits to Jerusalem as an offering to G-d. Bikkurim only applied once all Jews had settled in the Promised Land. It took seven years to settle everyone (you can just imagine the challenge of telling Jews where to live and hoping they’ll be happy). Meanwhile, people got to work farming as soon as they were settled. Many farmers had first fruits long before the nation had all moved in, yet none of them had to bring Bikkurim.

“Ki Savo” literally means “when you arrive”. The Bikkurim process could only be done when they arrived in Israel and until the last Jew had “arrived”, nobody had arrived.

Rosh Hashanah is in the air and it is time for introspection and self-transformation. If you’re serious about Rosh Hashanah, you are likely doing a little more for your Judaism these days. You probably hope to be focused and to feel connected at Shul over the High Holidays. Monday is “Chai” (18th) Elul, the final stretch. From Monday there are twelve days ‘til Rosh Hashanah- one day to repair the mistakes of each month of the last year. We’re zooming towards the finish line and all want to ensure that we make it across.

Our Torah portion’s message is most relevant now- nobody arrives until everybody arrives. When Noah saved his own family from the Flood and never tried to save others, he lost the chance to be Jewish. Abraham, who worked tirelessly to ensure that everyone he met would appreciate G-d, became the first Jew, setting the tone for how Jews should behave.

Jews are responsible for each other. Each of us is a cell in one great spiritual body, crisscrossed by nerves that link us to one other. No body-part can live independently of the others. No Jew can reach their spiritual goals as long as other Jews have not.

To truly arrive on Rosh Hashanah, we need to find a Jew who has lost touch with his/her Judaism and help them “arrive”.

Rosh Hashanah insight: How to confuse the Satan

2009-09-01T16:13:00.002+02:00

Prep for Rosh Hashanah: How to use prayer as a meditative tool

2009-09-01T16:12:00.002+02:00