Are you rich?

A friend and member of our community shared a personal anecdote with us at Shul the other day. It's a simple story with a great lesson. 

As is the case in most of Johannesburg, we have a number of beggars positioned on the intersections around our neighbourhood. One fellow is an eccentric character who has been around for as long as we've lived here. He regularly changes his outfits, likes to sport sunglasses, earphones (not that they're plugged into anything) and quirky cardboard signs, and he makes a point of getting the kids in the passing cars to smile. 

The other night, my friend stopped at a nearby petrol station and headed in to the Quick Shop to buy a drink. As he stepped up to pay, our eccentric beggar-friend approached him for a donation. Apologizing, my friend mentioned that he couldn't help the fellow and didn't even think he had enough cash to pay for his own drink. Sure enough, he was short. 

"How much do you need?" asked the homeless man. 

"Two rand," my friend admitted.

Without hesitating, the older man drew out his bag of coins- a day's worth of panhandling- and happily handed over two Rand!

By Divine design, we read the portion of the half-Shekel this past Shabbos. It's the moment where G-d baffles Moses by instructing him to have each member of the nation contribute half a shekel towards the maintenance of the Sanctuary. With those simple donations, the Jews were supposed to atone for the horrible sin of the Golden Calf. Moses grapples with the notion that a token contribution can make amends for such a momentous mistake. 

Well, here's one possible angle on the story: The Golden Calf was an investment that everyone believed was worth sinking cash into, because they anticipated it would offer solid returns (a replacement oracle for Moses, who they thought would not return). 

Still today, people happily throw millions at business or even philanthropic opportunities if they can forecast decent payback value. But, when stocks crash and fortunes halve, most people downscale and hang on to what they have as they become charity-averse. Someone who had been a billionaire and has lost a few hundred million is quite likely to feel poor and to consolidate and tighten the purse-strings.

Yet, here is a fellow who lives hand to mouth and was able to part with a few bucks to help someone clearly better off than he is.

As long as you can still give, you are wealthy. When you cannot share your money, regardless of how much of it you may still have, you have become poor. 

Perhaps that was G-d's message in the half-shekel- a reminder that big bucks to float a golden project don't indicate wealth, but giving away- even just a small contribution- does. 

Oprah and the Chassidim

After my post last week about gentiles appreciating Jewish values, I was gratified to see that Oprah aired a show this week on "Chassidic Jews" (read: Chabadniks). I obviously did not watch the show on TV (not having a TV at home), but I did find a few clips online, including a post interview interview that you can watch on our community's website.

 

Oprah, who some call the most influential woman in the world, doesn't need to pander to the Crown Heights Jewish community- most of whom would never watch her show and some of whom have never heard of her (she'd have way more celeb-value with their African-American neighbours). Yet, in her interviews, Oprah is very complimentary of the religious Jewish lifestyle. 

 

Perhaps it shouldn't take a billionaire TV host to tell us that Judaism is cool, but sometimes that's what we need. In last week's Torah portion, we see the Jews ready to accept the Torah only after Yitro (Moses' father-in-law and leading authority on paganism at the time) came along and acknowledged that his lavish and spiritual lifestyle just didn't match up to Jewish life. Unlike Yitro, you shouldn't expect Oprah to convert to Judaism following her exploration of Chassidism, but her endorsement of Judaism should surely reinforce our commitment to it.

 

Oprah marvels at the "frum" family life and the value-system those kids that grow up with. She is blown away by their immunity to media influence (she can't believe these youngsters have never heard of Shrek or Beyonce) and their old-style creative play. She's even partial to the laws of family purity, after hearing four religious women describe their personal lives.

 

Normally, if Oprah endorses it, it sells. Many a book has turned bestseller thanks to her featuring it on her show. It would be wonderful if Torah now would fly off the shelves thanks to her reviews. 

 

Realistically, I doubt it will.

 

G-d designed us Jews to be thinkers. We're not wired to naively accept other people's approbations, and we resist lifestyle changes until we have proven their value to ourselves. Ironically, there's more chance of regular Americans exploring Jewish living than of Jews becoming more Jewish thanks to Oprah . 

 

This week we read "Mishpatim", the section of the Torah that deals with the rational laws of civil society. After all the spiritual hoopla of G-d impressing us at Sinai, He then tones down the inspiration and leaves us to come to terms with our spiritual path on our own. Last week, He wanted us to be blown away by spiritual revelation, this week He wants us to think and absorb it all on a personal level. The Yitros and Oprah's will always be there, but G-d wants us to understand and appreciate the value of Jewish life on our own. 

There is only one way to do this: Learn. Find out more than you think you know about Judaism and you will make an informed- and meaningful- choice to get more involved.

A hug a day keeps the trauma away - Haaretz Daily Newspaper | Israel News

Amazing concept, yet so simple: Focus on helping others in distress and you will naturally beat your own distress.

A hug a day keeps the trauma away - Haaretz Daily Newspaper | Israel News:

'via Blog this'

Op-Ed: Haredi leaders must speak out against zealots | JTA - Jewish & Israel News

This is an important read:

Op-Ed: Haredi leaders must speak out against zealots | JTA - Jewish & Israel News:

'via Blog this'

What's with you Jews?

Two of my best years of life were enjoyed in the yeshivah in Kfar Chabad, Israel. We would spend all day negotiating the unpredictable terrain of Talmud and Chassidic philosophy, our evenings philosophizing or "farbrenging" and our weekends absorbing the stories of the colourful Kfar Chabad personalities. 

Friday was our chance to "hit the town". A busload of us students would travel to Tel Aviv and then fan out to predetermined locations. We'd set up shop and spend the afternoon coaxing indifferent Israelis into rolling up their sleeves for Tefillin treatment. 

My friend Yossi and I would handle Dizenghoff Square. If you've been there, you'll recall the kaleidoscopic Agam fountain, the tourist buzz and the falafel stores. Most tourists didn't notice it, but in the 90's the area was also home to Goths, punks and druggies (I haven't been back since, so can't comment on the current state of the place). Dizengoff was not renowned as a religious area and we had it a little tougher reeling in the Jews than most.

One Friday I was manning the Tefillin station alone (Yossi had gone to "strap up" a few falafel proprietors) when a tall, silver-haired American strolled over. "I don't git what's with you Jews," he drawled in Texan. 

"You're certainly not the first," I thought, wondering what he thought of our street-side mitzvah stall. 

"Y'know," he continued, "You have such a rich religion, a beautiful tradition and a majestic history and you (he thumbed at a passing pair with nose-rings and pink hair) try to be like us!"

He made a really good point. What is with us Jews? 

More South Koreans than Israelis own a copy of the Talmud. They study it too, convinced it is the key to higher IQ. According to a string of news reports, the Koreans are convinced that the secret of Jewish ingenuity is our centuries-old tradition of Talmud-study. 

Oy, if they only knew how few of us learn it these days...

What is it with us Jews? Strangers see us for who we are, a special people (I'm sure you've been told you're "G-d's chosen" at some point) with a unique direct-line to G-d accessed through his Torah. Instinctively they pick up what G-d told us and us alone: "Anochi". That opening word of the Ten Commandments translates simply as "I", but is an acronym for "I have given My soul to you in these writings". That's probably why the world gets on our case so often (whether through overt antisemitism or oblique journalism). It's because they sense that we should be using our direct-line more effectively.

Next time a Southerner stops me to ask what's with us Jews and why we're so laissez-faire about our Judaism, I hope I can say he's out of touch, because all the Jews I know learn Torah regularly. 

The question is: What will you say to the same guy if he asks you?

Oprah's views on Chassidic life

Take a look, interesting video!

61 years ago today...

Kol Nidrei night. As the sun cast its last auburn strands over the town, the Jews of Liozna waited for the awesome day to begin. Men stood with eyes shut tight, their taleisim framing their beards as they focused their minds ahead of the prayers. The women's gallery was abuzz with the murmurs of Tehillim. Even the children stood quiet and attentive. At any moment, the Rebbe, Rabbi Schneur Zalman, the "Alter Rebbe" of Chabad, would signal to the chazan  to begin. 

 

Only, he did not give the signal. Instead, Rabbi Schneur Zalman purposefully removed his talis and left the building. Incredulous Chassidim looked blankly at each other, unsure of what had just happened. One or two of the bolder youths darted out of Shul to discover where their Rebbe had gone.

 

A cool breeze softly blew over the quiet dark town as the Alter Rebbe walked to its outskirts. He passed the houses of merchants and cobblers, even the shacks of water-carriers as he headed out to the forest. There, the Alter Rebbe chopped wood and carried it back to the edge of town, stopping to knock at the door of a ramshackle hovel in the poorest section of the shtetl. Inside lay a mother beside her newborn infant, alone as everyone had streamed to Yom Kippur services. The Alter Rebbe lit a fire and boiled water for the woman, only returning to Shul when he was satisfied that she and her baby had been adequately cared for. 

 

Sixty-one years ago today, our Rebbe related this story in his first address as the new leader of Chabad; the man committed to steer modern Jewry through the turmoil of changing times. 

 

With this story- and a number of others- the Rebbe crystallized the key to keeping your inspiration alive in a world of stress and ubiquitous distraction. The Alter Rebbe could easily have selected any member of the community to assist the woman in distress and they would surely have obliged. But, he chose to care for her personally. His example, explained the Rebbe, teaches us that the key is to put everything you love (the Alter Rebbe certainly loved the prayer experience, especially on a day as powerful as Yom Kippur), care about and appreciate aside and step out of your comfort-zone to personally help someone else. 

 

People typically believe they should invest in themselves to grow and be fulfilled, yet the reality is that it is only when you invest in others you reach true heights.

What your car says about you

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

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!

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

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

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

Black hat Friday

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

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.

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"?

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

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...

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

How to Re-brand Yourself - Audio Classes:

'via Blog this'

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

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...

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...

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

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?

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?

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?

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

Speaking Volumes

A beautiful article: MOMENT MAGAZINE

Are you being followed?

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

It all depends on how you see it

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?

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?