Wednesday, June 30, 2010

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

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."

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

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

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!

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Life's too easy

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

Thursday, June 17, 2010

We don't do religion

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.

Friday, May 07, 2010

This oil is slick

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.

Friday, April 30, 2010

Everybody loves a parade

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.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Time to pull together


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/). 

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Fresh minds

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!

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Get those bad guys!

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.

Wednesday, April 07, 2010

Pesach takeaways

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.

Sunday, April 04, 2010

It depends what you're looking for...

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.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Four cups of marriage

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".

Friday, March 19, 2010

Pesach's coming...

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.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Always trust your Instruments

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.

Friday, March 05, 2010

LET'S BE HONEST NOW...


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.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Are we living in the past?

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.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Rainbow nation

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.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

A blessing on your head

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.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

The stuff the military is/ should be made of

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. 

Friday, January 15, 2010

Haiti- what can I do?

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.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

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Friday, November 27, 2009

Space race

“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.


Thursday, November 05, 2009

My Zaida was a rabbi

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.

Friday, October 30, 2009

We all mess up sometimes

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.

Friday, October 23, 2009

The Babel... uh Nobel Peace Prize

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.

Friday, October 02, 2009

Some water with your wine?

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.


Sunday, September 27, 2009

Light a candle of truth

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!

Friday, September 25, 2009

Stand on your head!

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.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

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

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!

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Friday, September 11, 2009

Breakfast

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.

 

Friday, September 04, 2009

I've arrived??

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”.