No, he’s not the Moshiach, if that’s what you thought I meant. Sorry.
I’ll be honest, this time last year I had no idea who Barack Obama was. In January I heard a speaker predict that Illinois Senator Obama would be the next president of the United States. I went home to Google his name, doubtful that I would ever need to remember it.
Incredibly, here’s a man who went from near-obscurity to the most powerful position in the world overnight.
As Jews, we need to look for the lesson in stories that touch our lives or capture our imaginations.
The Rambam writes that every person has the capacity to change the whole world. “Nice theory,” we all think. Well, we have now seen: “Yes we can!”
People often ask me if I really believe that one day a religious Jew (read: Moshiach) will suddenly emerge as the unchallenged leader of the world. Well, an African American did it in a country that sits on a deep racial rift, despite all claims to the contrary.
Did Hashem push Obama to win so he would pull America out of economic turmoil and war?
I don’t know.
Did He put him there because he’d look after Israel’s interests?
I have my doubts.
Maybe, He wanted to ease us into accepting that leaders can emerge from nowhere, so that when the Ultimate Leader suddenly appears and promises true peace and prosperity- we are not taken by surprise.
May Hashem send us that leader we’ve always dreamed of- now.
The Baal Shem Tov taught: Whatever a Jew sees or hears is there to teach him a lesson in spiritual development. Musings on life, spirituality and current world events.
Friday, November 07, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Who's it all about, anyway?
Apparently sibling rivalry is as old as siblings themselves. Consider Cain and Abel- they only had each other (although the Midrash indicates they also had sisters), yet look how they fought.
You have to wonder how Cain, reared by parents who spoke to G-d Himself (in fact, they chatted just before he knocked his brother off) went so extremely off the rails- and murdered his own brother!
This may just have been the first of thousands of conflicts that were sparked by religion. After all, the Cain-Abel fallout started as a religious exercise, each bringing an offering to G-d. They experienced the typical “my-way-to-G-d-is-better-than-your-way”. Only, in this case, G-d took sides.
Cain offered a simple grain-offering. Abel sacrificed a prized animal. G-d accepted Abel’s offering and turned away from Cain.
Abel was furious- not with G-d, but with his brother. Instead of contemplating why G-d had ignored him, he shifted the blame to Abel.
Cain didn’t bring an offering to serve G-d, but to satisfy himself. Cain wanted to get away with the bare minimum to satisfy himself that he had serviced G-d. Abel happily stretched himself beyond his means to satisfy G-d.
“Commitment to G-d” that’s based on the what’s-in-it-for-me philosophy can have devastating results. Religion and spirituality are about Higher Purpose, not Self.
If our world had more Abels and fewer Cains, we’d be living in peace.
You have to wonder how Cain, reared by parents who spoke to G-d Himself (in fact, they chatted just before he knocked his brother off) went so extremely off the rails- and murdered his own brother!
This may just have been the first of thousands of conflicts that were sparked by religion. After all, the Cain-Abel fallout started as a religious exercise, each bringing an offering to G-d. They experienced the typical “my-way-to-G-d-is-better-than-your-way”. Only, in this case, G-d took sides.
Cain offered a simple grain-offering. Abel sacrificed a prized animal. G-d accepted Abel’s offering and turned away from Cain.
Abel was furious- not with G-d, but with his brother. Instead of contemplating why G-d had ignored him, he shifted the blame to Abel.
Cain didn’t bring an offering to serve G-d, but to satisfy himself. Cain wanted to get away with the bare minimum to satisfy himself that he had serviced G-d. Abel happily stretched himself beyond his means to satisfy G-d.
“Commitment to G-d” that’s based on the what’s-in-it-for-me philosophy can have devastating results. Religion and spirituality are about Higher Purpose, not Self.
If our world had more Abels and fewer Cains, we’d be living in peace.
Friday, October 17, 2008
The Sukkah- template for the Jewish home
Ever since the Jews left Egypt some 3500 years ago, we've been wandering the globe. Be it due to pogroms, expulsions or our innate itch for change, we've crisscrossed the globe numerous times through our history.
That may explain why we resonate with the Sukkah- a temporary home that can be set up quickly just about anywhere. In a sense, the Sukkah represents the Jewish home: It's not rooted in one place, requires little to build and can be constructed from readily accessible materials.
But, I suspect there's more to the Sukkah's message for a Jewish home. After all, the Torah expects us to make it our home- in every sense- for a full week right at the start of the Jewish year. Whatever we do in the first days of our year impacts how the rest of the year progresses- and Sukkah is no exception.
To build a kosher Sukkah, you need to have two primary elements:
1. Walls that are stable.
2. A roof that is not.
If your Sukkah walls flap in the wind, your Sukkah may not be kosher. A Sukkah's roof that is impermeable is a no-no (you need to see the stars or at least let the rain in).
Regardless of where in the world our People has made its home, we have always built on these two principles.
Our walls are solid. What people do in their societies is their business, but we preserve an environment of our own inside our homes. Our Jewish identity remains pristine, safely preserves inside the stable walls that define us, regardless of where we are.
And, no matter how tough our situation might be, we keep an eye out for the heavens. There is no firm ceiling to our potential, to the possibility for change and improvement. At all times, we remain aware of the gaps above us that allow us to dream, to transcend the here-and-now, and to succeed.
Happy Sukkos!
That may explain why we resonate with the Sukkah- a temporary home that can be set up quickly just about anywhere. In a sense, the Sukkah represents the Jewish home: It's not rooted in one place, requires little to build and can be constructed from readily accessible materials.
But, I suspect there's more to the Sukkah's message for a Jewish home. After all, the Torah expects us to make it our home- in every sense- for a full week right at the start of the Jewish year. Whatever we do in the first days of our year impacts how the rest of the year progresses- and Sukkah is no exception.
To build a kosher Sukkah, you need to have two primary elements:
1. Walls that are stable.
2. A roof that is not.
If your Sukkah walls flap in the wind, your Sukkah may not be kosher. A Sukkah's roof that is impermeable is a no-no (you need to see the stars or at least let the rain in).
Regardless of where in the world our People has made its home, we have always built on these two principles.
Our walls are solid. What people do in their societies is their business, but we preserve an environment of our own inside our homes. Our Jewish identity remains pristine, safely preserves inside the stable walls that define us, regardless of where we are.
And, no matter how tough our situation might be, we keep an eye out for the heavens. There is no firm ceiling to our potential, to the possibility for change and improvement. At all times, we remain aware of the gaps above us that allow us to dream, to transcend the here-and-now, and to succeed.
Happy Sukkos!
Saturday, October 11, 2008
And now?
Yom Kippur a powerful time.
And this year was extra powerful. Boruch Hashem, we had a full-house for the Shul services, everyone was focused on davening and connecting and the atmosphere was electric. We ended Neilah on a high with the sounds of "Shema Yisroel" and the lively Napoleon's March reverberating in our ears.
Soon enough, the last Shul members headed home and the kids went to sleep. In the quiet I mused over how Yom Kippur catapults us into transcendence, and then leaves us in suspended animation. Our challenge is to crystallize the experience, capture the high, take it home and live differently for the next year.
But how?
By the next morning, I had my answer.
Dr. Schneur Levin had been my paediatrician. I have very fond memories of his boundless love for us kiddie-patients, his quirky humour and his eccentric homemade remedies. Visits to the doctor fun and his house-calls (yes, he still did house-calls) lifted the mood of the whole family.
I hadn't seen Dr. Levin for at least 25 years. I "outgrown" him and moved on to a regular GP a couple of years before my Barmitzvah and we only crossed paths sporadically over the next few years.
On Friday morning, I heard that Dr. Levin had passed away. I decided to attend his funeral to say a final thank-you for all the amazing things he did for me as a kid.
As the funeral procession made its way through the lines of graves, I walked alongside an old friend's father.
'They could have written a book on him," he said, "I could tell you a hundred of stories about him".
"Ok," I prompted, "Then at least tell me one."
Dave told me how Schneur Levin had attended the "Jewish Government" school in Doornfontein. Apparently, the school still operates today as a regular government school (there are no Jews living in that part of Johannesburg any longer).
Some years ago, Dr. Levin visited the school, probably for "old times sake". He chatted to the staff, walked the familiar corridors and reminisced about the "old days". He also paged through the old school journal and found the entry from the day his brother had fallen in the playground and broken his leg.
The journal entry recorded how the school had called for an ambulance, which had cost the equivalent of 25c, to take him to hospital.
Now, Dr. Levin knew that his parents did not have that sort of money in those days and realised that the school must have paid for the ambulance.
Without hesitating, he calculated the 30-or-so years worth of interest on the 25c and handed the school an donation to that effect!
That's when I realised it was no coincidence that Dr. Levin was escorted from this world on that day. After all, he held the clue to translating the inspiration of Yom Kippur: Be a mentsch.
And this year was extra powerful. Boruch Hashem, we had a full-house for the Shul services, everyone was focused on davening and connecting and the atmosphere was electric. We ended Neilah on a high with the sounds of "Shema Yisroel" and the lively Napoleon's March reverberating in our ears.
Soon enough, the last Shul members headed home and the kids went to sleep. In the quiet I mused over how Yom Kippur catapults us into transcendence, and then leaves us in suspended animation. Our challenge is to crystallize the experience, capture the high, take it home and live differently for the next year.
But how?
By the next morning, I had my answer.
Dr. Schneur Levin had been my paediatrician. I have very fond memories of his boundless love for us kiddie-patients, his quirky humour and his eccentric homemade remedies. Visits to the doctor fun and his house-calls (yes, he still did house-calls) lifted the mood of the whole family.
I hadn't seen Dr. Levin for at least 25 years. I "outgrown" him and moved on to a regular GP a couple of years before my Barmitzvah and we only crossed paths sporadically over the next few years.
On Friday morning, I heard that Dr. Levin had passed away. I decided to attend his funeral to say a final thank-you for all the amazing things he did for me as a kid.
As the funeral procession made its way through the lines of graves, I walked alongside an old friend's father.
'They could have written a book on him," he said, "I could tell you a hundred of stories about him".
"Ok," I prompted, "Then at least tell me one."
Dave told me how Schneur Levin had attended the "Jewish Government" school in Doornfontein. Apparently, the school still operates today as a regular government school (there are no Jews living in that part of Johannesburg any longer).
Some years ago, Dr. Levin visited the school, probably for "old times sake". He chatted to the staff, walked the familiar corridors and reminisced about the "old days". He also paged through the old school journal and found the entry from the day his brother had fallen in the playground and broken his leg.
The journal entry recorded how the school had called for an ambulance, which had cost the equivalent of 25c, to take him to hospital.
Now, Dr. Levin knew that his parents did not have that sort of money in those days and realised that the school must have paid for the ambulance.
Without hesitating, he calculated the 30-or-so years worth of interest on the 25c and handed the school an donation to that effect!
That's when I realised it was no coincidence that Dr. Levin was escorted from this world on that day. After all, he held the clue to translating the inspiration of Yom Kippur: Be a mentsch.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Shopping through life
I'll admit it publicly: I'm not a great shopper. Unless it's a bookshop, I'm itching to get out from the moment I arrive.
Pick 'n Pay Hypermarket in Norwood is the Jewish woman's shopping mecca- and a shopaphobe's nightmare. Certain times of year transform this normally hectic palace of purchase into chaos unleashed. Pre-Yom Tov is one of those times. Mix pre-Yom Tov with a public holiday plus end-of-month shopping and you have a recipe for bedlam.
My wife and I arrived, set on getting what we needed and getting out in record time. Our headlong thrust slowed to a crawl as we bumped into at least one friend/ congregant/ shiur-attendee per aisle. At one point I doubted we'd make it home in time for Rosh Hashanah.
Relief at seeing the tills looming ahead was also short-lived. Long lines snaked back into the store from each one of them and it seemed that nobody was moving (I figured that we'd at least have a minyan if we were still there by Yom Tov).
Fortunately, my personal Moshiach arrived in the nick of time in the form of the ever-jovial Rabbi Yehoshua Chaiton, who pulled his overflowing shopping cart alongside our twin trolleys.
"So," he began with a mischievous smile, "What's the Kabbalah of shopping?"
We had plenty of time to ruminate while on line, and we worked out that everything you need to learn about life, you could learn in a supermarket:
For a start, as the Mishnah in Pirkei Avos (Ethics of the Fathers) says, "You are born against your will". We have no option but to shop, the merchandise doesn't come to us of its own accord.
Once you're in the store, you wander through the aisles, selecting products and placing them in your cart. You may have the whole supermarket mapped out and follow a carefully planned route from the paper products to the freezer section. Or you might run haphazardly back and forth as you remember what you should have picked up three aisles earlier.
Some of us know where we're headed in life, others go in circles.
An interesting supermarket phenomenon is the way you keep bumping into the same people again and again as you go along.
Some people keep coming into our lives too- we don't always know why they keep appearing, and sometimes they even seem to get in the way.
Now, imagine coming from a small town with nothing more than a one-man convenience store and entering a supermarket for the first time. You'd stumble around wide-eyed at the variety and the sheer quantity of products. You may even be tempted to take "one of these" and "one of those" and pile your shopping cart high. You'd soon realise, though, that there's only so much your shopping cart can hold, and only so much you can use.
Life offers diverse experiences and opportunities, but nobody has it all. Take what you can handle and make a success of it, rather than trying to get everything.
As you meander through the rows of products, you might not find what you're looking for. Luckily, help is at hand. Look out for people wearing the store uniform and they will readily assist you. Just be sure to ask the store employees for advice and not the casual packers, who may look like they know what's what, but are really only familiar with one product.
Look around you and you'll find guides for life, people who know more than you do and can make your journey more pleasant and your goals more accessible.
Every once in a while you'll encounter friendly, yet persistent people who want to sell you an "amazing new product" you don't want and most likely don't need.
Avoid the candy-coated superficialities of life, regardless of how well they may be marketed, and stay focused on what you really want to achieve.
Any good store will warn you to buy frozen goods last and your common sense says do the same with eggs.
Living life to the fullest is about prioritizing right, so that the sensitive parts of living don't crack under the pressure, and so you can experience special moments while they last.
Once you've selected everything you need, it's time to check out. You can really have whatever you want from the shop, but you have to pay for it. At the till, you may decide you don't really need an item or realise that the advertised price was wrong and the bargain you thought you were getting is really no bargain. No problem, you can discard the unwanted items before you pay.
Rosh Hashanah is checkout time for the year. As we line up at the Supernal Till, it's time to reflect on this year's journey. Did we rush through the aisles, collecting stuff or did we stop to greet the friends we met en route? What have we loaded in our life's trolley? Do we really want to take all the things of last year with us or would we rather get rid of some of the poor choices we've made, while we still can?
There's little time left before the New Year, but it's still not too late to run back into the store and add one or two things to our cart. Another mitzvah or an extra prayer; a smile or a phone call.
It's closing time for 5768, time to get your shopping in order.
Pick 'n Pay Hypermarket in Norwood is the Jewish woman's shopping mecca- and a shopaphobe's nightmare. Certain times of year transform this normally hectic palace of purchase into chaos unleashed. Pre-Yom Tov is one of those times. Mix pre-Yom Tov with a public holiday plus end-of-month shopping and you have a recipe for bedlam.
My wife and I arrived, set on getting what we needed and getting out in record time. Our headlong thrust slowed to a crawl as we bumped into at least one friend/ congregant/ shiur-attendee per aisle. At one point I doubted we'd make it home in time for Rosh Hashanah.
Relief at seeing the tills looming ahead was also short-lived. Long lines snaked back into the store from each one of them and it seemed that nobody was moving (I figured that we'd at least have a minyan if we were still there by Yom Tov).
Fortunately, my personal Moshiach arrived in the nick of time in the form of the ever-jovial Rabbi Yehoshua Chaiton, who pulled his overflowing shopping cart alongside our twin trolleys.
"So," he began with a mischievous smile, "What's the Kabbalah of shopping?"
We had plenty of time to ruminate while on line, and we worked out that everything you need to learn about life, you could learn in a supermarket:
For a start, as the Mishnah in Pirkei Avos (Ethics of the Fathers) says, "You are born against your will". We have no option but to shop, the merchandise doesn't come to us of its own accord.
Once you're in the store, you wander through the aisles, selecting products and placing them in your cart. You may have the whole supermarket mapped out and follow a carefully planned route from the paper products to the freezer section. Or you might run haphazardly back and forth as you remember what you should have picked up three aisles earlier.
Some of us know where we're headed in life, others go in circles.
An interesting supermarket phenomenon is the way you keep bumping into the same people again and again as you go along.
Some people keep coming into our lives too- we don't always know why they keep appearing, and sometimes they even seem to get in the way.
Now, imagine coming from a small town with nothing more than a one-man convenience store and entering a supermarket for the first time. You'd stumble around wide-eyed at the variety and the sheer quantity of products. You may even be tempted to take "one of these" and "one of those" and pile your shopping cart high. You'd soon realise, though, that there's only so much your shopping cart can hold, and only so much you can use.
Life offers diverse experiences and opportunities, but nobody has it all. Take what you can handle and make a success of it, rather than trying to get everything.
As you meander through the rows of products, you might not find what you're looking for. Luckily, help is at hand. Look out for people wearing the store uniform and they will readily assist you. Just be sure to ask the store employees for advice and not the casual packers, who may look like they know what's what, but are really only familiar with one product.
Look around you and you'll find guides for life, people who know more than you do and can make your journey more pleasant and your goals more accessible.
Every once in a while you'll encounter friendly, yet persistent people who want to sell you an "amazing new product" you don't want and most likely don't need.
Avoid the candy-coated superficialities of life, regardless of how well they may be marketed, and stay focused on what you really want to achieve.
Any good store will warn you to buy frozen goods last and your common sense says do the same with eggs.
Living life to the fullest is about prioritizing right, so that the sensitive parts of living don't crack under the pressure, and so you can experience special moments while they last.
Once you've selected everything you need, it's time to check out. You can really have whatever you want from the shop, but you have to pay for it. At the till, you may decide you don't really need an item or realise that the advertised price was wrong and the bargain you thought you were getting is really no bargain. No problem, you can discard the unwanted items before you pay.
Rosh Hashanah is checkout time for the year. As we line up at the Supernal Till, it's time to reflect on this year's journey. Did we rush through the aisles, collecting stuff or did we stop to greet the friends we met en route? What have we loaded in our life's trolley? Do we really want to take all the things of last year with us or would we rather get rid of some of the poor choices we've made, while we still can?
There's little time left before the New Year, but it's still not too late to run back into the store and add one or two things to our cart. Another mitzvah or an extra prayer; a smile or a phone call.
It's closing time for 5768, time to get your shopping in order.
Monday, September 08, 2008
The Great Escape!
Rosh Hashanah is the New Year- we all know that. Logically, then, we are now at the end of the year. And “end of the year” means time to get away, doesn’t it?
It’s been a challenging year and most of us would probably appreciate a break before the third quarter. Imagine disappearing into the bush or to an exotic island just to escape it all…
The good news is Elul is a month of escape.
No, it’s not the Jewish December, where you leave your home, business and neighborhood, only to take your self (and your real issues) with you “on holiday”.
This is the time of year to get away from it all; to really escape.
Humans are designed with great ambitions, but frequently let themselves down. Our spirit guns for lofty achievements, but our natural cynicism and apathy keep us grounded. Eventually, we decide that who we are is who we will remain and there’s no point in trying to achieve spectacular things- at least not spiritually.
Hashem knows how we think, so He offers us 30 days a year to escape our self-mistrust and step into a world where anything is possible.
Like our Parsha’s “Cities of Refuge” that protected an inadvertent murderer from his victim’s avengers, Elul shelters us from every built-in mechanism we have that blocks soul-progress.
Simply put- if you daven a little extra, make it to a minyan, join a shiur or help another person during the next couple of weeks, the payoff will astonish you.
It’s time for the “Great Escape”- don’t squander the opportunity.
It’s been a challenging year and most of us would probably appreciate a break before the third quarter. Imagine disappearing into the bush or to an exotic island just to escape it all…
The good news is Elul is a month of escape.
No, it’s not the Jewish December, where you leave your home, business and neighborhood, only to take your self (and your real issues) with you “on holiday”.
This is the time of year to get away from it all; to really escape.
Humans are designed with great ambitions, but frequently let themselves down. Our spirit guns for lofty achievements, but our natural cynicism and apathy keep us grounded. Eventually, we decide that who we are is who we will remain and there’s no point in trying to achieve spectacular things- at least not spiritually.
Hashem knows how we think, so He offers us 30 days a year to escape our self-mistrust and step into a world where anything is possible.
Like our Parsha’s “Cities of Refuge” that protected an inadvertent murderer from his victim’s avengers, Elul shelters us from every built-in mechanism we have that blocks soul-progress.
Simply put- if you daven a little extra, make it to a minyan, join a shiur or help another person during the next couple of weeks, the payoff will astonish you.
It’s time for the “Great Escape”- don’t squander the opportunity.
Friday, August 01, 2008
WARNING: Jewish terror plot!
If the article is correct, I could be arrested under International anti-terrorism laws.
The claim fingers Chabad as an extremist Jewish movement, looking to establish a new Temple in Jerusalem. Zahi Nujidat, of the Islamic movement, notes that a three-week course on the Beis Hamikdash being held at Chabad centers worldwide indicates the movement’s intentions to destroy Al Aqsa to make way for a Jewish Temple.
I guess they’re not wrong. We do yearn for our Temple to be rebuilt. We do study about it at this time of the year, because this is when we recall the Temple’s destruction- and when we are most hopeful for its restoration.
But, we don’t wish harm on anyone in the process; we’ve never attacked people in the name of religion.
We see our Temple as a source of peace for the whole world. Praying and hoping for its rebuilding means dreaming of a better world- for all.
Our Temple will reverberate with prayer-calls, but these will be voices of blessing, peace and goodwill for all people.
The Talmud notes that, if the nations of the world had appreciated how much blessing the Jewish Temple brought them, they would have sent their armies to Jerusalem- to protect it.
Terrorism may be threatened by our Bais Hamikdash, but upstanding citizens around the world have everything to gain when it is restored.
May it happen speedily!
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Tractor terror
Yet another Arab terrorist attack in Jerusalem, this time just a little closer to home. Ghasam Abu-Tir used a mechanical digger to smash three cars and a public bus, injuring 11 people before police shot him.
Just a few meters away, a large group of our local rabbis sat eating lunch. Some saw the tractor attack, the rest dived to the floor when the shooting began.
We’ve seen rocket attacks, suicide bombings, shootings and knifings in Israel. Now, it seems there’s a new terror tactic. It’s called “Beating ploughshares into swords”.
I remember a 1991 magazine article that described how Armscor had started using technology that had originally been developed for weapons’ production to produce better-quality tractors.
Over the last 15 or so years, the world has shifted towards converting military technology and hardware into peaceful uses. Radar, GPS, nuclear energy, Internet and satellites are the better known examples of war-technology being used for useful purposes. Lesser known would be Kleenex (originally designed for gas masks), disused rifles that comprise avalanche-prevention systems in the USA and testing performance and stability of trucks on tank-testing sites.
“Beating swords into ploughshares” is a prophecy regarding the Age of Moshiach. As we draw closer to that special time, the world is already starting to behave accordingly.
Well, at least most of the world, with the notable exception of East Jerusalem.
Shortly after the destruction of the second Temple, Rabbi Akivah and some colleagues were walking past the ruins, when a fox darted out of the site of the Holy of holies.
Seeing this, the rabbis began to cry. Rabbi Akivah laughed.
“Why are you laughing?” they challenged him.
“Why are you crying?” Rabbi Akivah retorted.
“We are crying, because we’ve just seen a fox run out of the site that was so holy only the Kohen Gadol was allowed to enter, and only once a year. This is exactly what the prophet Micha predicted: ‘Tzion will be plowed over as a field.’”
“And that’s why I am laughing,” Rabbi Akivah explained, “Seeing the prophecy of Micha has been fulfilled assures me that Isaiah’s prophecy of the Temple’s rebuilding will also be fulfilled.”
Jerusalem is being plowed over again, this time with mechanized ploughs. It fits the Three Weeks of mourning the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash.
Now that we’re seeing Micha’s dire prediction happening all over again, let’s hope it means Isaiah’s prophecy is about to be fulfilled.
Just a few meters away, a large group of our local rabbis sat eating lunch. Some saw the tractor attack, the rest dived to the floor when the shooting began.
We’ve seen rocket attacks, suicide bombings, shootings and knifings in Israel. Now, it seems there’s a new terror tactic. It’s called “Beating ploughshares into swords”.
I remember a 1991 magazine article that described how Armscor had started using technology that had originally been developed for weapons’ production to produce better-quality tractors.
Over the last 15 or so years, the world has shifted towards converting military technology and hardware into peaceful uses. Radar, GPS, nuclear energy, Internet and satellites are the better known examples of war-technology being used for useful purposes. Lesser known would be Kleenex (originally designed for gas masks), disused rifles that comprise avalanche-prevention systems in the USA and testing performance and stability of trucks on tank-testing sites.
“Beating swords into ploughshares” is a prophecy regarding the Age of Moshiach. As we draw closer to that special time, the world is already starting to behave accordingly.
Well, at least most of the world, with the notable exception of East Jerusalem.
Shortly after the destruction of the second Temple, Rabbi Akivah and some colleagues were walking past the ruins, when a fox darted out of the site of the Holy of holies.
Seeing this, the rabbis began to cry. Rabbi Akivah laughed.
“Why are you laughing?” they challenged him.
“Why are you crying?” Rabbi Akivah retorted.
“We are crying, because we’ve just seen a fox run out of the site that was so holy only the Kohen Gadol was allowed to enter, and only once a year. This is exactly what the prophet Micha predicted: ‘Tzion will be plowed over as a field.’”
“And that’s why I am laughing,” Rabbi Akivah explained, “Seeing the prophecy of Micha has been fulfilled assures me that Isaiah’s prophecy of the Temple’s rebuilding will also be fulfilled.”
Jerusalem is being plowed over again, this time with mechanized ploughs. It fits the Three Weeks of mourning the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash.
Now that we’re seeing Micha’s dire prediction happening all over again, let’s hope it means Isaiah’s prophecy is about to be fulfilled.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Dear Mr. Ahmadinejad, can’t you say something nice for a change?
Ali Shirazi (he’s the Iranian guy who threatened to “burn Israel” if provoked) chose the right week to open his mouth- only he doesn’t know it.
As Ahmadinejad oversees missile tests and Iranian clerics spew hate-speech, Jews are studying details of the same story, set in a similar region, at a different time.
Balak, king of Moab, was afraid of the Jews. He had witnessed their miraculous victories against mighty armies, his own neighbours and allies. He had seen this band of refugees become a powerful nation. Balak appreciated that conventional warfare had failed against these people in the past, and that he needed a special weapon.
Balak hired Balaam, a deeply spiritual man; a prophet renowned for his unique ability to harm with words. Most importantly, Balaam was an avowed anti-Semite.
Together, they chose a prime vantage point from which to launch their barrage against the Children of Israel. With the entire Jewish nation in his sights, Balaam set about preparing his unique ammunition- inescapable curses that would destroy the People more effectively than any army could.
Balak looked on smugly, impatiently waiting to see the Jews’ certain fate unfold before his eyes.
It never happened.
Balaam, who could only curse, only see the bad, only spout evil- blessed the Jews! Balak was beside himself, but Balaam was unstoppable as blessing after blessing spilled from his mouth.
What went right? How did this wholly toxic human being turn benevolent?
Balaam himself answered that in his blessing: “Mah tovu oholecho Yaakov, mishkenosecha Yisroel- How good are your tents, Jacob; your dwellings, Israel”. Words that are so potent, we repeat them daily in our prayers.
As Balaam’s hateful eye focused on his intended victims, he was overwhelmed by their unusual camp-formation. Each tent was positioned so that everyone had complete privacy. Their unity and mutual respect made the Jews immune to Balaam’s verbal assault.
Love and respect for every Jew is potent stuff. It not only protects us from harm, it transforms our enemies and even causes them to bless us.
Let’s do more to show respect and concern for each other, to allow people their space and privacy, without ignoring their needs.
Let’s see what Shirazi and Ahmadinejad have to say then. It might be quite miraculous.
As Ahmadinejad oversees missile tests and Iranian clerics spew hate-speech, Jews are studying details of the same story, set in a similar region, at a different time.
Balak, king of Moab, was afraid of the Jews. He had witnessed their miraculous victories against mighty armies, his own neighbours and allies. He had seen this band of refugees become a powerful nation. Balak appreciated that conventional warfare had failed against these people in the past, and that he needed a special weapon.
Balak hired Balaam, a deeply spiritual man; a prophet renowned for his unique ability to harm with words. Most importantly, Balaam was an avowed anti-Semite.
Together, they chose a prime vantage point from which to launch their barrage against the Children of Israel. With the entire Jewish nation in his sights, Balaam set about preparing his unique ammunition- inescapable curses that would destroy the People more effectively than any army could.
Balak looked on smugly, impatiently waiting to see the Jews’ certain fate unfold before his eyes.
It never happened.
Balaam, who could only curse, only see the bad, only spout evil- blessed the Jews! Balak was beside himself, but Balaam was unstoppable as blessing after blessing spilled from his mouth.
What went right? How did this wholly toxic human being turn benevolent?
Balaam himself answered that in his blessing: “Mah tovu oholecho Yaakov, mishkenosecha Yisroel- How good are your tents, Jacob; your dwellings, Israel”. Words that are so potent, we repeat them daily in our prayers.
As Balaam’s hateful eye focused on his intended victims, he was overwhelmed by their unusual camp-formation. Each tent was positioned so that everyone had complete privacy. Their unity and mutual respect made the Jews immune to Balaam’s verbal assault.
Love and respect for every Jew is potent stuff. It not only protects us from harm, it transforms our enemies and even causes them to bless us.
Let’s do more to show respect and concern for each other, to allow people their space and privacy, without ignoring their needs.
Let’s see what Shirazi and Ahmadinejad have to say then. It might be quite miraculous.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Paradox

I find this day difficult to define. Some will simply call it the yahrtzeit of the Rebbe, but it is significantly more than that. A Tzadik’s passing is anything but ordinary.
This morning I bumped into a colleague who described how a congregant had asked him: "Do I wish you 'long life' today?"
No, it's not a mournful day.
It's not a festive day either. After all, Gimmel Tammuz reminds me of the good times when the Rebbe inspired us every single week, called on us to achieve the impossible and reminded us uneqivocally that G-d runs the world and that Moshiach is on our doorstep.
Gimmel Tammuz is a day suspended between day and night, between sadness and joy, between nostalgia and hope.
This is the nature of the day- as it has been for centuries. The 3rd of Tammuz became famous over 3000 years ago, when Joshua led the Jewish nation in conquest of the Promised Land.
Overwhelmed by the Jews’ miraculous victories, the people of Givon made a truce with the invading Israelites. Soon enough five kingdoms attacked Givon, who then called on Joshua for help. G-d assured Joshua that he’d defeat those powerful armies and Joshua led his forces into battle at the Ayalon valley.
Joshua’s troops closed in on this huge allied force and, by day’s end, were poised to defeat them. It was getting late and the light was failing. After dark, they would have to stop fighting, which would allow the Canaanite forces to regroup.
G-d intervened and allowed Joshua to stop the sun just above the western horizon and suspend the moon as it rose in the east. During this unique daylight savings time, Joshua wiped out the attacking armies.
I’m sure you’ve heard that story, it’s very well-known. I doubt you knew it had happened on Tammuz 3rd. Most people don’t.
Gimmel Tammuz is a paradox. Both the sun and the moon share the sky. It is a day that’s outside of the ordinary- technically night, but still light.
On this day, the moon hangs in the darkening sky; reminding us of those wonderful times we had with the Rebbe, which are now on hold.
Yet, the sun has not set. Kabbalah defines a Tzadik’s yahrtzeit as a time of celebration, as his soul soars higher and his lifetime’s achievements resonate more strongly through the world.
Talmudic lore calls wicked people dead while they are still alive, and deems the righteous alive, even after their deaths. Jewish mysticism adds that a Tzadik’s impact on the world increases after his passing.
The Rebbe’s yahrtzeit is not simply a nostalgic time, but an empowering time.
Gimmel Tammuz is when- in the words of the Zohar- “Crying is entrenched in one side of my heart and joy in the other”.
Today reminds me how much all us Chassidim- and thousands of others- miss the Rebbe, as it reminds me that he is always with us. It is a day full of memories of his crystal-clear guidance to individuals and to nations; guidance we can still find today.
And these memories will reassure me of his crystal-clear vision that our world is in mid-preparation for Moshiach.
G-d first made Gimmel Tammuz famous with a spectacular miracle in the Ayalon valley. May He honour this Gimmel Tammuz with an even greater miracle.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Mountains of darkness

Typically Jewish, we were late for the start of the hike.
Truthfully, it was African time, not Jewish time that delayed us. Most of our group arrived on the Monday morning of the hike.
None of their luggage did- all our kosher supplies included.
We veered our way down the narrow, muddy road to Arusha National Park, our bus dodging pedestrians, bicycles, goats and chickens. A brief stop at the gate, an even bumpier ride and we were "there".
Our group looked the part in our boots, Raybans, camelbacks and overloaded backpacks. Our bodies tingled with anticipation as our minds focused on the challenge ahead. We were ready.
That's when I noticed that we couldn't see the top of the mountain. In fact, we couldn't see most of the mountain- it was mostly above the cloud. Doubt flitted through my mind. If the top was too high to see, was it too high to reach?

I had hiked Table Mountain and that wasn't easy; the Drakensberg's Amphitheatre had been trying too. I clearly remembered seeing the tops of both those mountains before setting off to conquer them. This mountain was high.
It was just as well I had trained properly for this hike.
Yes, I walked daily, but that's not how a rabbi trains for an expedition like this. Real training took place in the library, not the gym. I invested time exploring what the spiritual take on mountains is; Chassidic teaching prepares you for everything.
Kabbalah talks about two types of mountains: Mountains of "light" and mountains of "darkness".
Chassidic thought makes sense of this enigmatic reference: A mountain is a piece of earth that has been forced skyward. It represents a person's striving to rise from the banality of life to get closer to G-d. Perhaps that's where the human urge to climb mountains comes from; the innate soul-calling to rise beyond normalcy.
Sometimes you can predict your spiritual trajectory in advance- you can see where the spiritual path will lead you. Even before you take the first step of your spiritual journey, you know where you plan to end up.
That's a mountain of "light", a mountain with a peak you can spot from the ground.
Climbing that sort of a mountain takes effort, but it makes sense. You appreciate that every step you take brings you that much closer to your objective. You will always find doable mountains to climb.
Occasionally, you need to take a leap of faith; to go for a goal so impossible you can never see yourself doing it.
That's the mountain of darkness; the peak is so high, you can't tell where it is. You need to trust other people to guide you to where you never believed you could go.
Climbing that sort of mountain takes everything you've got. It's more difficult than you could ever imagine, almost breaking you in the process. Many times along the way, you feel you'll never get there or that you're wasting your time.
When you do reach the top, you're a changed person.
The clouds were still there, Meru's peak invisible. We were ready for the impossible.
Friday, June 06, 2008
Rural bliss

I've just returned from a fascinating trip to Tanzania. I joined a group of a dozen men from Chabad of Hendon to climb Mt Meru, Kilimanjaro's neighbouring little cousin (Meru's about 800m shorter than Kili).
Climbing a mountain is an extreme experience. I've been hiking before, but this was beyond anything I could have anticipated. In the tranquil setting of unspoilt nature, pushing your body to the limits, your mind opens to little truths about life that are worth bringing home to suburbia.
These last few days back home have allowed me a chance to reflect and unpack this amazing experience- full of insight.
Living in South Africa, I thought I was prepared for the African experience. But, northern Tanzania is far more rural than anywhere near my home and the simplicity took me by surprise.
Our guide collected us from Kilimajaro airport and zipped us along the one road that leads into the town of Arusha. Both sides of the road are mud paths, cluttered with bicycles (many veering into oncoming traffic), loads of pedestrians and a mix of boney cattle, goats, donkeys and chickens.
Tropical vegetation lines the streets, banana trees are everywhere. Beyind that, shacks and squalor.
It seems that Arusha's population is generally destitute. A fraction of the community benefits from the thriving tourist trade; the rest live off the land.
Back home we always hear how poverty causes crime. Nobody warned us against muggers or armed robbers in Arusha.
Besides which, the people were so friendly. Everyone greeted us with the traditional Swahili "Jumbo!", they all smiled. Over the whole week, I didn't see any road rage or arguments, our driver didn't even lose his cool when his Landrover packed up half way up a 4x4 track at Ngorongoro Crater.
There were no taxis available on the day I had to head home, so our tour guide arranged a friend to take me to the airport. He took me- all the way in, insisted on carrying my bags, and wouldn't leave until he knew I was going to make the flight (several big-deal motorcades had blocked the roads and we ran very late).
When I asked him if people were generally poor in Arusha, he assured me that my analysis had been accurate.
"So, if they are all poor, how is it that everyone looks happy?" I asked him.
"Because they are happy," he replied, simply.
"How can they be happy? They have nothing," I pressed him.
"Nothing?" he was surprised, "They have peace! We have had no conflict in our country for decades- that is why we are happy."
Simple, isn't it? Money doesn't buy happiness; peace does.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Over your head?

Kabbalah? We’re practical people. We relate to making a living, keeping the family happy and the pragmatic elements of being Jewish.
Mystical ideas are beyond us, mention spiritual realms, sefiros, Divine names and they simply fly over our head.
Today’s Lag Baomer, a day dedicated to celebrating one our nation’s greatest mystics. Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, responsible for one of the most seminal Kabbalistic texts, the Zohar, died on this date.
He is the one who insisted that we celebrate the occasion each year. Since then, Lag Baomer is a fun-filled family field day, especially in Israel, where it’s essentially a national holiday.
If you been to Israel at this time of the year, you will have seen hundreds of bonfires dotting the landscape wherever you go. Burning pyres are certainly iconic of this festival.
The other icon (maybe lesser known) is a bow and arrow. You have to wonder why. Mystics and fire seem to gel, fire is unconfined by the shape and size of other physical entities. But, mystics and bows ‘n arrows? Sounds like a bad Shidduch!
I got to try my hand at archery a few Lag Baomers ago. While I tried to hit the bullseye, the defiant arrow insisted on landing lower than the target time after time.
That’s when the instructor stepped over and revealed the arrow’s secret: “Aim higher than the target- and you’ll hit it”.
Then and there, in the chilly dusk of an archery club, I got the secret of Lag Baomer. Mysticism might seem out of reach, but it doesn’t matter. Aim higher than you expect.
In fact, all of Judaism is about aiming higher than our goals. If we aim for mediocrity, we land up uninspired- and less than mediocre. When we aim for the impossible, we hit a healthy spiritual target.
Sometimes, we surprise ourselves and reach beyond the target too.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Round II
Important message from Israel’s Chief Rabbi: Due to unexpected circumstances, please note that Pesach actually begins this Sunday night!
If you think this message is far-fetched, it really happened. It was a long time ago, and the Chief Rabbi then was none other than Moshe himself.
What happened was a group of people volunteered to transport Yosef’s remains through the desert. When the first Pesach came around, they realized that they couldn’t participate in the Paschal lamb, because they were all impure.
This group went to complain to Moshe, who was stumped. Fortunately, he had 24/7 access to the Almighty, and received an answer for these people on the spot.
Had they never have asked, the Jewish nation would never have known that there’s a second chance at Pesach 30 days after the original for people who missed it.
This Sunday evening, we commemorate “Pesach Sheini”, the second Pesach, by eating some Matzah.
It is a beautiful time, with a powerful set of messages:
If you think this message is far-fetched, it really happened. It was a long time ago, and the Chief Rabbi then was none other than Moshe himself.
What happened was a group of people volunteered to transport Yosef’s remains through the desert. When the first Pesach came around, they realized that they couldn’t participate in the Paschal lamb, because they were all impure.
This group went to complain to Moshe, who was stumped. Fortunately, he had 24/7 access to the Almighty, and received an answer for these people on the spot.
Had they never have asked, the Jewish nation would never have known that there’s a second chance at Pesach 30 days after the original for people who missed it.
This Sunday evening, we commemorate “Pesach Sheini”, the second Pesach, by eating some Matzah.
It is a beautiful time, with a powerful set of messages:
- Judaism always offers a person another chance, regardless of why they missed it the first time around.
- Never feel embarrassed to ask for a second chance- if you don’t ask; you don’t get.
- Your awkward situation may land up benefiting the whole community.
- When you need to play catch-up, Hashem helps you do a seven-day course in 24 hours.
Enjoy round II!
Sunday, May 11, 2008
3D Judaism
3D movies seem to be making a comeback. People seem to enjoy donning those paper glasses and ducking projectiles that appear to fly out at them.
No doubt, 3D makes an experience all the more real.
Jewish movie production seems to lag somewhat. We don’t have too many Torah-education blockbusters; certainly none in 3D.
What we do have, though, is a formula for 3D Judaism without the silver screen. It was introduced 2000 years ago, by Rabbi Yehudah Hanassi (and we’ve just read it this week in the 2nd chapter of Pirkei Avos, Ethics of the Fathers).
He explains: “Consider three things and you’ll never sin.” He does list three factors to consider, but there’s a cryptic message in this sentence- before you get to the list.
Judaism is clearly a spiritual discipline, designed to bring us closer to G-d.
There are those who feel that the best way to progress spiritually is to see the world in 1 Dimension.
There is G-d & spirituality and nothing else counts. They argue that, if you want to grow spiritually, you’ll have to lose touch with the world and focus all your energies on study, prayer and meditation.
Others see the process in 2D. On the one hand, there’s spirituality, Torah and mitzvos. On the other, there’s “real life”. They’ll tell you that you need to find the balance between developing your soul, and making a success of your life. You can’t do both at once, so you’ll need to allocate time and energy for each.
Torah teaches us to see a third dimension. Yes, there’s a spiritual paradigm (we go there when we’re at Shul or engaged in a Mitzvah). There is also a physical reality, mutually exclusive to that spiritual realm.
Then there is G-d. He is neither physical, nor spiritual. That means that He can be accessed through physical action, just as through spiritual meditation.
Torah says that you don’t have to wait until you’re at Shul to engage G-d or develop your soul. You can, and must, find that connection at work, during leisure time, in your personal relationships.
3D Judaism is when you unveil the essential bond between everything in your life and it’s Source. It is when you recognize G-d as being up close and personal at all times, under all circumstances.
And, if He is that close, His blessings are too.
No doubt, 3D makes an experience all the more real.
Jewish movie production seems to lag somewhat. We don’t have too many Torah-education blockbusters; certainly none in 3D.
What we do have, though, is a formula for 3D Judaism without the silver screen. It was introduced 2000 years ago, by Rabbi Yehudah Hanassi (and we’ve just read it this week in the 2nd chapter of Pirkei Avos, Ethics of the Fathers).
He explains: “Consider three things and you’ll never sin.” He does list three factors to consider, but there’s a cryptic message in this sentence- before you get to the list.
Judaism is clearly a spiritual discipline, designed to bring us closer to G-d.
There are those who feel that the best way to progress spiritually is to see the world in 1 Dimension.
There is G-d & spirituality and nothing else counts. They argue that, if you want to grow spiritually, you’ll have to lose touch with the world and focus all your energies on study, prayer and meditation.
Others see the process in 2D. On the one hand, there’s spirituality, Torah and mitzvos. On the other, there’s “real life”. They’ll tell you that you need to find the balance between developing your soul, and making a success of your life. You can’t do both at once, so you’ll need to allocate time and energy for each.
Torah teaches us to see a third dimension. Yes, there’s a spiritual paradigm (we go there when we’re at Shul or engaged in a Mitzvah). There is also a physical reality, mutually exclusive to that spiritual realm.
Then there is G-d. He is neither physical, nor spiritual. That means that He can be accessed through physical action, just as through spiritual meditation.
Torah says that you don’t have to wait until you’re at Shul to engage G-d or develop your soul. You can, and must, find that connection at work, during leisure time, in your personal relationships.
3D Judaism is when you unveil the essential bond between everything in your life and it’s Source. It is when you recognize G-d as being up close and personal at all times, under all circumstances.
And, if He is that close, His blessings are too.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Lechaim Moshiach!
Everyone knows we Chabadniks are Moshiach-crazy. We talk about Moshiach all day, sing Moshiach songs, produce Moshiach newspaper ads, bumper stickers, posters, songs and even t-shirts.
On Pesach, we take it just one step further. For the last 250 or so years, we’ve hosted a welcome party for Moshiach at the end of every Pesach.
Our guest of honour hasn’t yet arrived at one of them, but that won’t deter us. It’s sort of like waiting at the airport’s arrivals gate for a relative. Just about every other passenger seems to walk through those doors before your family member emerges. You might get anxious over the delay, but you’ll keep standing there until the right person shows up.
Our Moshiach meal is something along those lines. And more.
A young boy once wanted an apple, but his father wouldn’t give it to him. The clever little guy hatched a perfect plan- he loudly said the full brocha over the fruit. Taken aback, his dad had no option but to give it to him.
We’d like to “force” our Father-in-Heaven’s hand the same way. We’ll set up the meal, invite the guests and drink the Lechaim- then He’ll “have to” send us the Main Attraction.
So, this Sunday afternoon, come say Lechaim for Moshiach. We’re really hoping he’ll be there to reply in kind.
On Pesach, we take it just one step further. For the last 250 or so years, we’ve hosted a welcome party for Moshiach at the end of every Pesach.
Our guest of honour hasn’t yet arrived at one of them, but that won’t deter us. It’s sort of like waiting at the airport’s arrivals gate for a relative. Just about every other passenger seems to walk through those doors before your family member emerges. You might get anxious over the delay, but you’ll keep standing there until the right person shows up.
Our Moshiach meal is something along those lines. And more.
A young boy once wanted an apple, but his father wouldn’t give it to him. The clever little guy hatched a perfect plan- he loudly said the full brocha over the fruit. Taken aback, his dad had no option but to give it to him.
We’d like to “force” our Father-in-Heaven’s hand the same way. We’ll set up the meal, invite the guests and drink the Lechaim- then He’ll “have to” send us the Main Attraction.
So, this Sunday afternoon, come say Lechaim for Moshiach. We’re really hoping he’ll be there to reply in kind.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Why Matzah?
Matzah? Delicious!
Well, not quite. I know some of you enjoy eating Matzah, but when it’s eight days straight (and especially if you don’t put anything on the Matzah, like us), it can get a bit much.
Why do we have to eat this tasteless, flour/water flat-bread?
Go ahead; consult your trusty Haggadah (which should be out by now) for an explanation. There it is, towards the end of the story of the Exodus. What does it say? Ah, yes, that we eat matzah because the dough of our forefathers didn’t manage to rise in the mad rush out of Egypt.
That’s what you’ve always thought, right?
One question: Before the Jews left Egypt, they had a special meal that Hashem had commanded.
On the menu was roast lamb (the Paschal sacrifice), maror and… that’s right, matzah!
That was before they rushed out of Egypt. They ate matzah then, well before midnight and the slaying of the firstborn. Jews in Egypt ate matzah because they were told to, not because they couldn’t manage to bake bread!
Like anything in Judaism, if you want to really understand what’s going on, you need to look a little deeper.
Matzah is made of dough that doesn’t rise. Puffed up chometz symbolizes ego. Flat and simple matzah represents humility.
There are two types of humility: You could work hard at being humble, train yourself to limit your ego; or you could be suddenly overwhelmed with a powerful realization of Hashem’s greatness that makes it patently obvious that there’s no room for your own ego.
When the Jews ate Matzah at their pre-Exodus meal, that was their own ego-deflation process. At the stroke of midnight, Hashem revealed Himself and their dough/ ego could not rise. As you stand before Hashem’s presence, you don’t feel yourself.
Which matzah do we eat on Pesach?
Glance into the Haggadah again. It says we eat matzah because the dough could not rise. Every Pesach, Hashem reenacts the Exodus in every spiritual detail. He reveals Himself and deflates our ego for us- opening the possibility for real spiritual growth- in leaps and bounds.
We just have to notice that He’s there.
Well, not quite. I know some of you enjoy eating Matzah, but when it’s eight days straight (and especially if you don’t put anything on the Matzah, like us), it can get a bit much.
Why do we have to eat this tasteless, flour/water flat-bread?
Go ahead; consult your trusty Haggadah (which should be out by now) for an explanation. There it is, towards the end of the story of the Exodus. What does it say? Ah, yes, that we eat matzah because the dough of our forefathers didn’t manage to rise in the mad rush out of Egypt.
That’s what you’ve always thought, right?
One question: Before the Jews left Egypt, they had a special meal that Hashem had commanded.
On the menu was roast lamb (the Paschal sacrifice), maror and… that’s right, matzah!
That was before they rushed out of Egypt. They ate matzah then, well before midnight and the slaying of the firstborn. Jews in Egypt ate matzah because they were told to, not because they couldn’t manage to bake bread!
Like anything in Judaism, if you want to really understand what’s going on, you need to look a little deeper.
Matzah is made of dough that doesn’t rise. Puffed up chometz symbolizes ego. Flat and simple matzah represents humility.
There are two types of humility: You could work hard at being humble, train yourself to limit your ego; or you could be suddenly overwhelmed with a powerful realization of Hashem’s greatness that makes it patently obvious that there’s no room for your own ego.
When the Jews ate Matzah at their pre-Exodus meal, that was their own ego-deflation process. At the stroke of midnight, Hashem revealed Himself and their dough/ ego could not rise. As you stand before Hashem’s presence, you don’t feel yourself.
Which matzah do we eat on Pesach?
Glance into the Haggadah again. It says we eat matzah because the dough could not rise. Every Pesach, Hashem reenacts the Exodus in every spiritual detail. He reveals Himself and deflates our ego for us- opening the possibility for real spiritual growth- in leaps and bounds.
We just have to notice that He’s there.
Friday, April 04, 2008
Moon People
Giggling children run excitedly from one bright stall to the next enticing ride. Lively music mixes with the whooping of thrilled little ones and the screech of metal. Candy-floss and popcorn aroma fills the festive air here at the funfair.
I’m not a big fan of roller-coasters, but gladly take my kids on the Big Wheel. They’re impatient, and fret when we sit at the bottom of the wheel for a minute too long as new passengers alight.
______________________________
We’re moments away from the month of Nissan. Over 3300 years ago, on the first Nissan ever, G-d gave our nation our very first Mitzvah.
No, it wasn’t “I am the L-rd, your G-d”. Actually, it wasn’t any of the apparently fundamental faith-builders. His first instruction to us seems almost trivial: “This is how the Jewish calendar works”.
Wouldn’t you have expected Him to first lay the ground-rules? You know- let us know He is in charge that we are obliged to believe in Him, serve Him and pray to Him.
Why start with the calendar?
He wanted us to know that Jews are moon people. On the 1st day of Nissan 2448, G-d showed Moses the sliver of a new moon and said: “This is what your people will look for every 30 or so days, to define the new month.”
G-d wanted us to know what Jewish life is like. Jews don’t live the static, stable life of the sun; we fluctuate like the moon. We have our ups and downs.
Some days we’re on top of the world, confident that we’ll never fall. Other days, we hit rock-bottom and don’t know how we’ll ever come right.
G-d wanted to show us, from day one, that these swings are normal. He also wanted us to know, that when your moon looks like it’s faded away completely- look out for a new moon. When things look bleak, He assures us there lies the seed for new growth.
You only need to believe it. And look for it.
As the Rebbe Rashab once said: “Both those at the top of the ferris-wheel and those at the bottom are mistaken- neither will keep their position for long”.
I’m not a big fan of roller-coasters, but gladly take my kids on the Big Wheel. They’re impatient, and fret when we sit at the bottom of the wheel for a minute too long as new passengers alight.
Moments later, when the Wheel stops again and we’re at the top, they shout with glee- sure this top-of-the-world experience will never end. Slowly, the Wheel moves downward; they groan.
______________________________
No, it wasn’t “I am the L-rd, your G-d”. Actually, it wasn’t any of the apparently fundamental faith-builders. His first instruction to us seems almost trivial: “This is how the Jewish calendar works”.
Wouldn’t you have expected Him to first lay the ground-rules? You know- let us know He is in charge that we are obliged to believe in Him, serve Him and pray to Him.
Why start with the calendar?
He wanted us to know that Jews are moon people. On the 1st day of Nissan 2448, G-d showed Moses the sliver of a new moon and said: “This is what your people will look for every 30 or so days, to define the new month.”
G-d wanted us to know what Jewish life is like. Jews don’t live the static, stable life of the sun; we fluctuate like the moon. We have our ups and downs.
Some days we’re on top of the world, confident that we’ll never fall. Other days, we hit rock-bottom and don’t know how we’ll ever come right.
G-d wanted to show us, from day one, that these swings are normal. He also wanted us to know, that when your moon looks like it’s faded away completely- look out for a new moon. When things look bleak, He assures us there lies the seed for new growth.
You only need to believe it. And look for it.
As the Rebbe Rashab once said: “Both those at the top of the ferris-wheel and those at the bottom are mistaken- neither will keep their position for long”.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Be a mentsch
This Shabbos we'll start reading the 3rd book of the Torah, Vayikra. It's opening message teaches: "Adam, A man who will bring from you a sacrifice to G-d".
Technically, this the intro to the laws of sacrifices. One level deeper, the Hebrew for "bring a sacrifice", yakriv, translates literally as "draw close". In other words, this section teaches us how to draw close to G-d.
Judaism uses four different words for humans. Adam refers to the most refined and developed of the four. You could probably say that Adam equates with what we'd call a mentsch.
Step one to draw close to G-d: Make sure that you are a mentsch.
Technically, this the intro to the laws of sacrifices. One level deeper, the Hebrew for "bring a sacrifice", yakriv, translates literally as "draw close". In other words, this section teaches us how to draw close to G-d.
Judaism uses four different words for humans. Adam refers to the most refined and developed of the four. You could probably say that Adam equates with what we'd call a mentsch.
Step one to draw close to G-d: Make sure that you are a mentsch.
Responding to terror
Hundreds of civilians were attacked in a terrorist ambush that targeted women, children and the infirm. The Jewish army responded swiftly and decisively, killing scores of insurgents and wounding hundreds of others.
This may sound like yesterday’s news, but it’s actually the Torah’s account of the first-ever terror attack against Jews- when Amalek ambushed our People soon after they left Egypt.
Every year, on the Shabbos before Purim, we are instructed to review this story and its lessons. It contains key aspects of how to deal with terror.
The nature of terror
Egypt was the World Superpower 3300 years ago. When miracle after miracle brought Egypt to its knees and the Jewish nation became the first slaves to ever leave Egypt alive, neighboring nations were concerned. After the world’s mightiest army disappeared underwater, Middle Eastern countries were shaken to their core.
40 years later, the nations of Canaan still shuddered as the Jews approached their borders. No thinking People would have dared to challenge the Children of Israel when G-d so patently destroyed their enemies.
Except one.
Amalek snickered at the jitters rumbling through the developed world. Laughing off the wild stories of Jewish miracles, Amalek ambushed the fledgling nation almost immediately after its miracle at the Red Sea.
Terror is insolent. It attacks indiscriminately, where sovereign armies would never strike, for no good reason.
The cause of terror
Jews are trained to look beyond what meets the eye. When evil grows in our world, we look inward to see how we may possibly be feeding it.
Only moments before Amalek attacked, the Jews had complained against G-d. With their own eyes, they had seen miracle after miracle in Egypt; they had crossed the sea on dry land; they were living in the climate-controlled environment of the Clouds of Glory, and G-d’s pillar of fire guided them at night. Yet, with G-d’s spectacular presence staring them in the face, when they ran out of water, they complained: “Is G-d with us or not?”
Rashi, the most important commentator on Torah, provides a telling metaphor for their attitude: “A man was walking with his son on his shoulders. When the son asked for a drink, his father got him water and when he was hungry, dad provided a snack.
“After some time, the pair passed a man on the road. The son turned to him and asked: ‘Have you seen my father anywhere?’
“Incensed, the father dropped his son to the ground and a dog came and bit him.”
“Likewise,” Rashi explain, “When the Jews became blasé about G-d’s constant care and protection, He allowed Amalek to attack- to remind them not to take His attention for granted.”
Terror breeds when we overlook Hashem’s miracles; when we believe in our military might or political prowess rather than in our G-d.
The response to terror
No sooner had the Amalekites attacked, Moshe sent Joshua and a crack army to repel them. Moshe climbed a mountain to oversee the battle.
From atop the hill, Moshe raised his hands. As long as his hands were raised, the Jews had the advantage. When he tired and dropped his arms, the battle turned in Amalek’s favour.
Obviously, Moshe’s hands didn’t make or break the Jewish victory. His extended arms reminded the people to look to G-d for victory, to entrust Him with their success. As long as they reinstated G-d’s control, their enemies stood no chance against them. If they slipped back into the “is G-d with us?” mindset, they quickly faltered on the battlefield.
“Zachor, remember!” The Torah instructs us never to forget the Amalek story. Of all the Torah readings of the year, this is the one every Jewish person is required to hear.
Its message is eternal: Fight terror by improving your relationship with G-d. Thinking that we can fend for ourselves without Him or doubting His absolute control place our nation in a perilous position.
Far from Israel, we can still all make a difference. We must fight the spiritual battle, like Moshe atop the hill, strengthening our faith in Hashem.
Hopefully, Israel’s leadership learns to do the same.
This may sound like yesterday’s news, but it’s actually the Torah’s account of the first-ever terror attack against Jews- when Amalek ambushed our People soon after they left Egypt.
Every year, on the Shabbos before Purim, we are instructed to review this story and its lessons. It contains key aspects of how to deal with terror.
The nature of terror
Egypt was the World Superpower 3300 years ago. When miracle after miracle brought Egypt to its knees and the Jewish nation became the first slaves to ever leave Egypt alive, neighboring nations were concerned. After the world’s mightiest army disappeared underwater, Middle Eastern countries were shaken to their core.
40 years later, the nations of Canaan still shuddered as the Jews approached their borders. No thinking People would have dared to challenge the Children of Israel when G-d so patently destroyed their enemies.
Except one.
Amalek snickered at the jitters rumbling through the developed world. Laughing off the wild stories of Jewish miracles, Amalek ambushed the fledgling nation almost immediately after its miracle at the Red Sea.
Terror is insolent. It attacks indiscriminately, where sovereign armies would never strike, for no good reason.
The cause of terror
Jews are trained to look beyond what meets the eye. When evil grows in our world, we look inward to see how we may possibly be feeding it.
Only moments before Amalek attacked, the Jews had complained against G-d. With their own eyes, they had seen miracle after miracle in Egypt; they had crossed the sea on dry land; they were living in the climate-controlled environment of the Clouds of Glory, and G-d’s pillar of fire guided them at night. Yet, with G-d’s spectacular presence staring them in the face, when they ran out of water, they complained: “Is G-d with us or not?”
Rashi, the most important commentator on Torah, provides a telling metaphor for their attitude: “A man was walking with his son on his shoulders. When the son asked for a drink, his father got him water and when he was hungry, dad provided a snack.
“After some time, the pair passed a man on the road. The son turned to him and asked: ‘Have you seen my father anywhere?’
“Incensed, the father dropped his son to the ground and a dog came and bit him.”
“Likewise,” Rashi explain, “When the Jews became blasé about G-d’s constant care and protection, He allowed Amalek to attack- to remind them not to take His attention for granted.”
Terror breeds when we overlook Hashem’s miracles; when we believe in our military might or political prowess rather than in our G-d.
The response to terror
No sooner had the Amalekites attacked, Moshe sent Joshua and a crack army to repel them. Moshe climbed a mountain to oversee the battle.
From atop the hill, Moshe raised his hands. As long as his hands were raised, the Jews had the advantage. When he tired and dropped his arms, the battle turned in Amalek’s favour.
Obviously, Moshe’s hands didn’t make or break the Jewish victory. His extended arms reminded the people to look to G-d for victory, to entrust Him with their success. As long as they reinstated G-d’s control, their enemies stood no chance against them. If they slipped back into the “is G-d with us?” mindset, they quickly faltered on the battlefield.
“Zachor, remember!” The Torah instructs us never to forget the Amalek story. Of all the Torah readings of the year, this is the one every Jewish person is required to hear.
Its message is eternal: Fight terror by improving your relationship with G-d. Thinking that we can fend for ourselves without Him or doubting His absolute control place our nation in a perilous position.
Far from Israel, we can still all make a difference. We must fight the spiritual battle, like Moshe atop the hill, strengthening our faith in Hashem.
Hopefully, Israel’s leadership learns to do the same.
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