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 My celeb-knowledge is clearly outdated.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.