March 1st, 2016
Dear Rabbi Jacobson,
I was very uplifted by your class, The Counterintuitive Secret to Happiness, as well as an older class The Secret of Finding Joy, which I viewed over the web (by the way, these classes are brilliant, one of the best kept secrets online; I tell everyone I know about them. You must find ways to distribute them widely). The way you explained the power of joy resonated deeply. Yet, I find it extremely difficult to implement these principles into my daily life. I was just laid off my job, my long-term savings have been depleted, to boot I grew up in a dysfunctional home, which I am always healing from, and there are many other factors in my life that are hardly a cause for happiness. Indeed, I feel as if I am perpetually sad, with a few sporadic spurts of short-lived joy bouncing up here and there. I often feel as though I have been hardwired without joy or happiness. Some people seem to be naturally cheerful. And some of us seem to be inherently despondent if not miserable.
Pray tell me that I am wrong.
Respectfully,
M.
Dear M.,
Thank you for your kind, yet also sad words.
Let me get straight to the point. You are wrong. Very wrong.
Have you ever seen a newborn child sad? Every child ever born is always happy and joyful. Joy is hardwired in our hardware and in our software. Sadness is a superimposed state that we acquire once we being to grow and experience disappointment and duplicity. Children learn to be sad from their parents and the “mature” world that they become exposed to.
You may argue that children are naturally happy because they are naïve and have yet to witness “reality” – the harsh and cruel world in which we live, where people hurt each other and the many hardships that life presents us.
In truth, however, it is the other way around. A child is our most natural and quintessential state. The child’s innate cheer comes from an inner peace and contentment which results from a lack of dichotomy in the child’s life.
Seamlessness is the operative word. A child’s consciousness is not split into parts. A child is not torn between its needs and its behavior. We adults are constantly torn between demands upon us and our own needs, between what we truly want and what we must do to survive, between who we essentially are and what we do. Between the needs of our bodies and the needs of or souls. Who among us can say that our daily work and activities reflect our deepest inner aspirations? Is there a person that has no conflict of interest between a personal life and a professional one, between the demands of your job and those of your home and family? Has anyone not compromised some of their idealism and values due to the pressures of the struggle for survival?
When there is a split there is tension. And where there is tension there is sadness. A measure of angst is always healthy – to keep us reaching and growing. But when the angst spills over into anxiety, despondence and depression are not far behind.
Children are the most perfect model of seamlessness: A smooth flow between the inner and the outer; where identity meets expression. Imagine that your outer expressions were always reflecting your inner needs, and your deepest aspirations always had an outlet of expression.
It is only from adults that children learn to be sad. Yes, we adult project our feelings on our children and as they develop and enter maturity that too learn the world of envy ad greed, of selfishness and instant gratification, of struggling between what we know to be true and what we indulge in for our own pleasure.
You may then say, that all this is fine and good as long as we are children. But now that we have grown into adults, our childhoods lost, we no longer can access that inner contentment and happiness that is the domain of the child.
That may sound logical and… sad , but it is unequivocally wrong. The way we were born, the way we were hardwired always remains with us. Our inherent joy becomes concealed under many layers and veils, but it is embedded in our consciousness if not unconsciousness.
The question is how do we access it, especially once “paradise” has been seemingly lost? The answer goes back to the root of joy and happiness: Seamlessness. How does one achieve the seamless state, where there is no conflict between competing forces?
We can find our answer in an unlikely place – and one that is not even so popular today: Business.
The first cardinal rule of every venture is defining its mission statement. Without a concise and clearly stated purpose, everything that follows will be scattered and confused. Goals will be hard to set, and success will be difficult if not impossible to measure. The mission aligns all the steps of the operation from start to finish – from concept to final product, from the strategies and plans, to the actions and goals. It brings together and coordinates the entire enterprise into one seamless unit.
If so, you may ask, how is it that so many very focused businesses fail? Look around today, and we witness the collapse of numerous revered institutions, that had powerful mission statements and highly capable stewards at the helm. How did that happen? Read on.
So the secret of seamlessness – which lies behind the secret of happiness – is thus dependent on discovering the mission of our lives. Without that mission, our activities, involvements and investments – all our times and energy – will inevitably be unfocused, hence leading to tension and discord.
The mission of our lives is stated in the Torah portion called Terumah. In perhaps the shortest and most concise mission statement ever made, the verse states: V’osu li mikdash v’shochanti b’socham, Build Me a sanctuary and I will dwell among you.
Five words – V’osu li mikdash v’shochanti b’socham – define the purpose of existence and the mission and goal of each and every life: Take all the elements of your life, all your physical materials and material activities, direct all your faculties, gifts and opportunities toward one goal: Build Me a sanctuary and I will dwell among you.
Align all your energy and activities toward this one seamless goal, and you will find seamless happiness. It may be difficult to tackle every aspect of our lives, but we can always begin with aligning some areas toward the stated mission. You will find that joy is directly proportionate to the amount of focus of one’s life toward fulfilling the higher mission.
Just as staying true to your mission is the bedrock of personal success in the microcosm of our personal lives, the same is true in the macrocosm of our institutions, leaders and governments — many of which seem increasingly rudderless and often corrupt. Many failing entities have clearly strayed from their own missions and sound strategies. They take unsound risks, due to greed and other selfish incentives, or due to misplaced loyalties, obstinate positions and distorted politics (take today’s American President’s fear and hesitation in identifying Muslim militants), ultimately betraying the trust in them. Even if one were to argue that some remain true to their missions – which is not necessarily the case – many definitely did not live up to the larger mission of our entire system: Integrity. The only way that democracy and capitalism, which is driven by personal gain, can survive is through a fundamental trust (which incidentally is stated in many financial company’s mission statements: Investments you can trust, “securities,” take Prudential’s “rock”).
Similarly with the current threat of global terrorism: The only way to successfully wage war against Muslim aggression and their assault on our core values is by crystallizing our higher calling and recommitting to our global vision and mission founded on the unshakable sanctity of human dignity and individual freedoms.
It surprises me that with all of our best minds at work during the past few years trying to find a solution to our global and domestic challenges, no one has suggested revisiting the initial “mission statement” of the United States of America – the driving ethos that gave birth in the first place to this mighty nation and created the climate for its thriving growth. This would be especially welcome now, as we are in the midst of a new Presidential campaign, nominating the candidate who will be our next President.
In the Declaration of Independence – which one can say is the USA’s “mission statement” – the Founding Fathers, in their wisdom (and apparent study of the past failed systems and governments), understood that the key to this country’s success lies only if it stands on a solid bedrock, an unwavering foundation: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.”
They did not make economic prosperity or complacency the mission or goal of this country. Free commerce and financial success is a symptom, not a cause of freedom. They clearly knew that the driving mission of this country must be based on the absolute Divine equality endowed on all human beings. Governments are instituted to secure and protect the Divine unalienable rights of man, not the other way around. This is the only basis of trust, freedom and all the components necessary to allow for healthy relationships, personal motivation and successful businesses. Without faith, without accepting higher authority that gave us all the gift of life and liberty, what is there to protect one greedy man from another? What is there to protect innocent citizens from a zealot?
Socialism’s argument against capitalism was always that we cannot trust people driven by personal gain and greed. Thus the need for deprivatization, eliminating all private property and ownership. The problem with this approach is that by the same argument we also cannot trust the socialists and the ones taking charge of the socialist revolution (as history has proven only too well). In days of old, a few monarchs controlled capital, with the same argument, that left on their own people’s self-interests will destroy them. But could we trust the monarchs? One could argue perhaps, that less damage is possible if we isolate the abuse to a few people than to many. But a contrary argument can also be made.
Regardless, all these arguments make it absolutely clear and necessary that the only hope for our institutions to succeed is fundamental integrity and trust. You can create all the regulating you like – as if the SEC was doing its job – but without a deeper sense of faith and the feeling that we have to answer to a higher authority, no system could be trusted.
All our experts must do – all that the President must do – is look at the money in their own pockets. Engraved on every coin, etched on every bill, are the words “In God we trust.”
The only antidote for human greed –and for religious radicalism — is the acceptance, respect and obligation to a higher calling, which in turn allows for trust of each other.
Our leaders today ought to simply echo and reiterate this nation’s original mission statement – declaring the core base of our union is the Divine gift of life that we were all given equally, that “In God we trust” and with that trust “E Pluribus Unum,” from the many, one, and we can thus trust each other, and become one despite our diversity. That without this common bond our system – our government, economy, politics and all our institutions – cannot endure. Without answering to a higher calling and authority, we will end up in the same place as so many mighty empires before us: History.
Our leaders must declare that integrity is good for business. Greed may work short-term, but can never endure.
Of course, this alone will not solve our problems. We need to rebuild (or create new models for) our institutions and structures. But without this essential trust – without the foundation – the structure cannot stand.
Any economic turmoil and turbulence surrounding us presents a unique opportunity to revisit our “point of departure:” Our initial missions. Which in turn allows us to realign our lives accordingly.
My suggestion to you, M., is to begin asking yourself: “What is my mission? Why was my soul sent down to Earth?” Though this may not be a short-term solution, I assure you that if you are persistent in your search, in time you will find your calling, and as you do you will become a happier person. Remember, you have joy inside of your soul. As a newborn child it was active. Then it may have retreated as you faced various challenges. But the happiness it is still in there somewhere. Perhaps locked, perhaps trapped – but waiting for you to release it.
Connect your active life to a deeper mission, reintroduce seamlessness into your existence, and you will begin releasing the joy within you.
What better time to begin than in this joyous month of Adar? Celebrate, sing and dance with others, celebrate with people who are connecting to something higher than themselves. Celebrate the joy of Adar, joy which transcends and “pierces all boundaries,” to the point of Purim’s joy, which is called “ad d’lo yoda” – unbridled joy to the point beyond consciousness; the joy deeply embedded in the subconscious soul.
Tags: depression, joy, happiness, your mission, purpose, inner child, purim, Adar, usa
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Shmot, Personal Life, Torah, Terumah, Emotions & Psychology | 11 Comments »
March 1st, 2016
Spiritual Architecture
A manufacturing question: What do you create first – the package or the product? In today’s commercial world it often appears that wrappers are so vital that they are designed before thinking what they contain inside. As marketing cynics put it: Perception is more important than reality. On the other hand, despite the cliche, we do judge books by their covers. If an environment is not appealing and the package is weak, we won’t trust the product within.
In our personal lives the same question can be asked: What takes priority – the means or the ends? Say, you’re planning an event. Do you begin with creating a content program or do you first design the look and feel? Very often, function seems to follow form rather than the other way around.
More bluntly put: What drives your life – your body or your soul; your physical or your spiritual needs? Do you see yourself as a material creature, with some spiritual activities, or a spiritual one, recognizing that matter is fuel for spirit?
Here’s where marketing, corporate structure, business administration and personal life all converge.
Conventional wisdom of business administration dictates that a successful entity requires two equally vital forces: A visionary and a builder. The visionary ensures that the entity always remain aligned with its long term objectives. The builder implements the vision, directing the mechanics of the operation towards its intended goals.
Usually, the vision person, standing at a 20,000 story level or higher, has a birds-eye view which is incapable and unable to see and run things on the ground level, which requires immersion into the nitty gritty details. And vice versa: The implementer needs to see things as they are below, and cannot remain on a pedestal.
Vision alone can remain abstract and unfulfilled without someone who knows how to implement and build accordingly. Building without vision is aimless.
You may be surprised to hear that the first model for balancing these two forces goes back 3320 years ago. The model for all structures – for all entities – both physical and spiritual, microcosm and macrocosm, is the holy Temple.
“Build me a sanctuary and I will rest among you.” The purpose of existence is to build a Divine home from and in our material universe. Building this home is thus a model for every form of building that we well ever devise – from our grandiose structures in our sprawling cities to our businesses and corporations, from our personal lives, homes and families to our social structures.
As such, the construction of the Sanctuary offers us many lessons in life. Which explains why the Torah – in these weekly chapters – elaborates about every detail of the Temple’s construct, and not once, but three times.
When we look closely at the Torah narrative we find a discrepancy in the order of the Temple’s assembly: When G-d first commands Moses (in the fist two chapters of Terumah and Tetzaveh) the order is first to build the vessels (the ark, the table, the menorah), and then the structure itself (the walls of tapestry and the beams). But later, in these week’s chapter, when Moses instructs the people to build the order is reversed: First the Mishkan – the structure – and only afterwards the vessels.
The Talmud relates a mysterious but fascinating dialogue between Moses and Bezalel, the Temple’s builder, about this order (Berochot 55a. Cited in Rashi at the opening of Pekudei):
When Moses told Bezalel to first construct the vessels and then the structure, Bezalel responded, “Moses, our Rabbi, the way of the world is that first one builds a home and afterwards he puts in the furnishings. But, you tell me to build the ark and vessels and then the Tabernacle. Where shall I put the vessels I make until the Tabernacle is finished? Perhaps G-d really said it to you in a different order, Tabernacle, ark, vessels?” Moses responded: “perhaps you were under G-d’s shadow (the meaning of the name “be-zal-el”) and knew what G-d intended.” Moses deferred to Bezalel.
Why then did Moses reverse the order and maintain that first the vessels should be constructed than the structure? Indeed, if Bezalel was right that the order should be first to build the structure and then the vessels, why did G-d in the first place command Moses precisely in the opposite order? Why confuse matters?
The answer is that both Moses and Bezalel were right. One spoke from the perspective of the visionary, the other from the viewpoint of the builder:
A visionary – the driving force that should stand behind every initiative – sees the end in mind; he always maintains focus on the mission and purpose of the entire operation. The ultimate purpose of the Temple lies in the vessels – the Divine service performed with the vessels. The structure is necessary to protect and surround the vessels within. Moses, man of G-d, was the visionary who saw right at the outset the end purpose – which is to create containers for the Divine.
The builder who implements the vision, on the other hand, must define the actual method and order of assembly. Bezalel, the builder and implementer, recognized the practical process, “the way of the world: first one builds a home, and afterwards one puts in the furnishings.”
Moses’ and Bezalel’s symbiotic relationship in constructing the Divine Temple carries vital lessons in our lives:
Ask yourself the question: Who controls your life: The details and daily mechanics or a higher vision and purpose? Who is the captain of your ship: is your body following your soul, or is your soul following your body? Does the hammer tell your hand what to do or the other way around?
It may seem strange, but due to life’s circumstances and the struggle for survival most of our lives are consumed with the means – working, commuting, shopping, preparing, with much less time and energy available for the end – the reason we invest all that effort: love, family, virtue, personal growth, making a mark on the universe. This of course, creates the inevitable, undesired and contradictory result: We can forget the destination as we get overwhelmed with the journey. Instead of your mission defining your activities and circumstances, the order is reversed.
On the other hand, sometimes we can get carried away with vision and illusions of grandeur, which – even if they aren’t illusions – often don’t come to realization due to their grandiosity. You may be afraid, or not know where, to begin, concerned that not every detail was covered or that there may be another way to go.
First and foremost we need the voice of Moses within: the vision. Then we need to balance it with the voice of Bezalel: the builder.
In our lives, each of us should have has both these personalities, forces and characters: First the visionary – that distinguishes between the means and the ends, and makes sure to emphasize and keep focused on the purpose of all the work we do in life. Never forget the purpose. Then there is the builder who understands the right order how to actualize the process.
Obviously, some of us excel at one more than the other. Nevertheless, we all carry both voices. And even more importantly, we are expected to be wise enough to consult and bring on board an objective expert that can help complement our own weaknesses.
Which is more important? Both: vision and execution. The idealism of a visionary can remain abstract and unrealized. The greatest vision will fail if it does not have a designer and builder that will execute and realize the vision. A builder on his own, without vision, can get distracted and carried away with the means, and forget the end. We need both: the end in mind and the order of priority.
This is the secret to success: Moses and Bezalel – a partnership that left us with a holy Temple, which served as a model for the Temples to be built later in Jerusalem, and the permanent Temple of the future.
And above all – provided us with a permanent model to create a home for our souls and for the Divine (“I will rest among you”).
How many partnerships can claim such success?
Tags: spiritual and material, purpose, balance, Holy Temple, moshe, Moses, body and soul
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Biblical, Soul & Mystical, Shmot, Torah Personalities, Spiritual, Vayakhel, Moses | 2 Comments »
February 4th, 2016
Seeing the Cracks in our Existing Systems
Karl Popper, the Austrian-British philosopher of science, writes that “Science is not a system of certain, or well-established, statements; nor is it a system which steadily advances towards a state of finality. Our science is not knowledge: it can never claim to have attained truth, or even a substitute for it….We do not know: we can only guess. And our guesses are guided by the unscientific, the metaphysical (though biologically explicable) faith in laws, in regularities we can uncover/discover…The old scientific ideal of episteme—of absolutely certain, demonstrable knowledge—has proved to be an idol. The demand for scientific objectivity makes it inevitable that every scientific statement must remain tentative for ever….”
The physicist, Werner Heisenberg showed that in physics laws are at best probabilities. And the great mathematician, Kurt Goedel demonstrated the same in mathematics. In his famous Goedel’s Theorem he proves that there exist meaningful mathematical statements that are neither provable nor disprovable, now or ever. That is, not simply because human thought or knowledge is insufficiently advanced but because the very nature of logic renders them incapable of resolution, no matter how long the human race survives or how wise it becomes. “No axiomatic system containing arithmetic can demonstrate its own consistency, so we can never know for sure whether our system is consistent. Any such system must have true statements which are unprovable within the system.”
You may be surprised, but this principle – that logic is built on supralogical axioms – is stated in this week’s Torah portion. What is even more surprising is that the Torah teaches us this invaluable wisdom with the addition of one single letter.
This week’s chapter, Mishpatim, begins with G-d’s words to Moses: “And these are the laws that you shall put before them.” The Midrash (oral interpretation of Torah) – cited by the classical Torah commentator, Rashi – explains the addition of “and (these are the laws).” Wherever it says “V’eileh” (“and these” – in Hebrew the letter vov at the beginning of a word means “and”), the word comes to add to that which was before. “And these are the laws” teach us that just as the first ones [the Ten Commandments] were received at Sinai, so too are these laws from Sinai.
What is the significance of this addition? Why would we think that these laws were not given at Sinai that the Torah needs to emphasize it with the additional vov (‘and’)?
Because “mishpatim” (the word used here for ‘laws’) refers to the Torah’s rational and logical laws. The argument could be made that religious law needs to be received from Sinai, but rational laws can be initiated by man. Tells us the Torah: No! The foundation of logic is the supralogical (Sinai).
One letter in the Torah – one and only one letter vov – tells us what the brilliant thinkers, Popper, Heisenberg, Goedel concluded thousands of years later…
The logical fact is that true logic is built on the supralogical. Now the supralogical is not the same as illogical. The illogical is beneath logic – plain stupidity. Supralogical is above logic, preceding logic. The most logical thing of all is that something precedes logic.
Why is that the case? Because there is no true absolute basis for morality if it is created and driven by human logic alone. Anything created by human logic can be destroyed or altered by the same logic. If morality is based on consensus and basic human freedoms granted to us by man-made institutions, those same men can decide to retract those freedoms. “All men are created equal” the American Founding Fathers declared, because they knew that if the freedom does not come from the Creator, then it cannot be inalienable. If King George granted them freedom, than he can choose to take it from them as well.
Now if logic itself is built on supralogical axioms, why then are we so mesmerized by logic?
The answer is: We aren’t. We fake it.
Love, mistakes, passions, all our vices, music, romance, magic — are all driven by forces that are beyond the logical.
Why is it then, when it comes to G-d so many people become so very logical? They demand rational or empirical proof for G-d’s existence?
I always wondered why I resisted the organization argument when it came to proving the existence of G-d. The argument goes like this: Anything organized directs us to someone that created that organization. A building points to an architect. A book to an author. A sonnet to a composer. How much more so does our universe – which is infinitely more organized than anything in existence – point to a Creator, a cosmic engineer that put it all in place.
Why do so many people reject this argument which seems to be as good a proof as any in science?
Answer:
We don’t reject the argument. We reject its conclusion, its consequences. G-d implies personal responsibility. If G-d exists that means that I may be responsible for my behavior – responsible and accountable to G-d and to others.
Suddenly, we become highly logical…
Most of our choices and activities are not determined by logic alone. Yet, when it comes to G-d we become enamored by logic.
Is it possible that entire generations of thinkers have denied G-d’s existence and built philosophies and social systems based on their beliefs – all in order to conveniently avoid the personal responsibility that G-d demands of us?
If that is true, what does that say about our political and economic structures? What kind of security can we expect from a world that is built on a logic that denies its supralogical axiomatic source?
And while we’re at it (asking some difficult questions), I might as well add: How often do we use logic to smokescreen our real intentions? To hide irrational and irresponsible behavior behind rational excuses?
What has all this to do with our times? Plenty.
The last decade has exposed the vulnerability of our fragile world. Global upheavals — from political chaos and an unprecedented pandemic, to the rise of extremist terrorism, to our tottering institutions — have shattered the illusion of our invulnerability. Notwithstanding our abundance of prosperity, technology, military might and material successes, many are questioning the very viability of our cherished systems. the 21st century has been witness to a deterioration of trust and confidence in leaders, government and business. And more upheaval is sure to come.
With our man-made logical systems and institutions under attack, with our security under question and all the uncertainty brewing – the vov that begins our Torah portion (“v’eileh”) looms larger than ever. Our man made logical structures have wandered away from Sinai. They need to reconnect to the mission statement given at Sinai and reinstated by our Founding Fathers: In G-d We Trust. One Nation Under G-d.
In an insane world like ours, where innocent suffer and wicked prosper, a world full of contradictions and paradoxes – we can take comfort in knowing that the insanity is a result of a logical system refusing to acknowledge its supralogical Creator. If we cannot sense that G-d is the true reality of all of existence, and we have the ability to resist it because it makes us uncomfortable – then it surely makes more sense that our world be insane than sane.
True sanity means embracing the world beyond logic.
So let’s do something not logical together: Let us defy all the fear and insecurity around us by passionately embracing our absolute foundation of faith in G-d. Let us crawl out of our comfort zones and shake up the world a little – with a revolution of goodness. For every negative thought you have, counter it with two positive actions. As we witness wild behavior of different sorts, let it inspire us to go beyond our own norms of kindness. Instead of doing the logical thing – being overwhelmed by all the uncertainty, or battling fire with fire, let us transcend our logic and just become better people.
It may be the most logical thing we have ever done.
Tags: love, faith, Jewish law, rational, spiritual
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Shmot, Faith, Beliefs & Concepts, Social, Mishpatim, Torah, Science & Technology, Current Events | 2 Comments »
January 28th, 2016
The Skyscraper
Where Heaven Meets Earth
G-d came down on Mount Sinai, to the peak of the mountain. He summoned Moses to the mountain peak, and Moses climbed up – Exodus (Yisro) 19:20
Gazing at the Manhattan skyline — my thoughts drifted to the World Trade Center, whose two mighty towers were felled on what has become known as, 9/11.
As spontaneous thoughts go, it’s difficult to say why our minds wander to different conscious or unconscious memories. In this instance, perhaps my synapses connected the skyscraping theme of this week’s Torah portion — when heaven met earth — with the two twin skyscrapers that rose so mightily into the firmament and then suddenly met their tragic demise.
And as one thought leads to the other, a flow began to emerge…
*
In the early years of the Word Trade Center I remember a great ad that always remained with me. It was advertising the observation deck of the WTC. The ad consisted of a photo showing a birds eye view of the WTC observation deck. Above the picture were the words: “The closest some of us will ever get to heaven.”
A sad smile came to me as I reminded myself of this ad while reading in this week’s Torah portion about one of the most if not the most momentous event in history: the giving of the Torah at Sinai.
The Midrash offers the following parable to explain what happened at Sinai:
Once there was a king who decreed: “The people of Rome are forbidden to journey to Syria, and the people of Syria are forbidden to journey to Rome.” Likewise, when G-d created the world He decreed and said: “The heavens belong to G-d, and the earth is given to man.” But when He wished to give the Torah, He rescinded His original decree, and declared: “The lower realms may ascend to the higher realms, and the higher realms may descend to the lower realms. And I, Myself, will begin”—as it is written, “And G-d descended on Mount Sinai,” and then it says, “And to Moses He said: Go up to G-d.”
Before Sinai, there existed a “decree” that split reality into two self-contained realms: the spiritual and the material, the Divine and the mundane. Spirituality could have no real effect upon the physical world. It remained relegated to the sublime reality of the “heavens.” The material on the other hand could not be elevated—it could be improved and perfected to the limits of its potential, but it could not transcend its inherent limitations and subjectivity. Nor could the spiritual be truly brought down to earth—its very nature defied actualization.
This dichotomy was dissolved at Sinai. A fissure was opened in the inviolable wall, a window from the inner world of the spirit to the external world of the material. Heaven and earth met.
No longer did the old rules apply, where what was inside was locked in and what was outside shut out. The human was empowered to integrate the spiritual and the dark, cold world of matter and imbue it with warmth and light.
The process that began with Abraham and continued with Isaac and Jacob, finally reached fruition seven generations later, with Moses climbing Mount Sinai and G-d ‘descending.’ As discussed in my previous essays, Abraham and his children were primarily concerned with the fundamental struggle between spirit and matter – how to integrate these two worlds. At Sinai the marriage of heaven and earth was consummated.
Life ever since has not been the same. The window that opened at Sinai changed reality forever. Now it became possible to not only scrape the sky but to actually reach it. Though physical skyscrapers were yet to come, the human race on earth was empowered to touch heaven.
Over 3300 years have passed since the sky was scraped at Sinai. During these years much has transpired. Abraham’s teachings, conveyed at Sinai, had reached not only the children of Jacob, but also began reaching the children of Esau and Ishmael. Christianity and Islam were born. Great wars have been fought. Religious wars have been waged – all struggling to make peace between G-d and the universe. Industry and technology transformed this planet. We seemed to have conquered not just earth but the very skies, with our air travel, spaceships and skyscrapers.
Who is not in awe of the New York skyline which, among the many skylines around the world, is a tribute to mans’ tremendous power.
And then, 3313 years later, on September 11th the altered landscape of the New York skyline has rudely reminded us of the fragility of our manmade airplanes and skyscrapers.
Isn’t it interesting that the Midrash uses “Rome” and “Syria” as symbols of the two dichotomous worlds of heaven and earth – each forbidden to travel to the other. Christian Rome and Muslim Syria – West and East – have been at war with each other over the centuries. In our times, Muslim fundamentalism is attacking, in the name of heaven (as distorted as it may be), the secular earthiness of Rome [Edom].
Perhaps they have forgotten Mattan Torah. And this week’s Torah portion is here to remind them that heaven and earth can be joined, that we can and must reach a balance between these seemingly incompatible realities. It happened 3328 years ago at Sinai. And it can happen today.
Until I reminded myself about Mattan Torah, I felt that the WTC observation deck was the closest I would ever get to heaven. Hey, after all I am a man of this earth. I have my share of vices and failings. I was never very optimistic about my secure place in heaven. Of course, we all want heaven for its climate, but hell seems so much more fun for its company. And let’s face it, it’s just so much easier to live an undemanding life.
That was all till Mattan Torah. Sinai has given me – and all of us – hope. Hope that we can get closer than we ever have to heaven.
Tags: Mt. Sinai, midrash, spiritual and material, poetry, purpose of existence
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Shmot, Social, Yitro, Torah, September 11th, Current Events | 6 Comments »
January 28th, 2016
B”H. New York.
Just concluded the mincha afternoon service and took off my Tefillin, which we don on Tisha B’Av in the afternoon (not in the morning as we do the rest of the year) to commemorate the Temple’s tragic destruction on this day.
I enter the synagogue and see old and young praying on this sad day, as Jews have been doing for the last 20 centuries. I wonder what it looked like at the Wall this year, after yet another senseless attack, following a devastating year in Israel, and for that matter also abroad.
How strange. Jerusalem is under siege again, just as it was 1940+ years ago and before that, over 2500 years ago (when the First Temple was destroyed), and many times before and after. The Crusaders. The Moslems. Everyone seems to want a piece of this mystical city. I should correct that: Not “under siege again,” but perhaps always been under siege; its just that now we are painfully aware of it.
Why is Jerusalem under siege and always been under siege? Because Jerusalem (and even more: the Temple Mount) is a place of power – potency that everyone wants to feed off. Jerusalem in Hebrew (Yerusholayim) combines two words: Yira (awe), Sholom (peace). Awesome harmony. Jerusalem is the place where Abraham offered Isaac at the altar and where Jacob fell asleep and has his ladder dream. Jerusalem is the place from where Adam and Eve were created. That is why all humans – children and carriers of the genes of Adam and Eve – gravitate back to that holiest of places. Jerusalem is the center of the universe, and everyone feels it consciously or unconsciously.
We pray toward the East, toward Jerusalem and the Temple Mount. We stand in New York, Los Angeles, Paris, Moscow, London, Bangok, Sydney – wherever we are on the globe (and even on the moon) – we always face Jerusalem. 5000 years ago, 1940 years ago and today.
All these thoughts come rushing through me as I see the old 94 year-old man putting away his Tallit, as a 12 year-old boy near him is opening up his Siddur (prayer book) to begin the service, all against the backdrop of the Aron Kodesh (Holy Ark) situated silently – but prominently – on the Eastern wall of the shul. History flashes right before my eyes. I ask the older man, “How many years have you been fasting on Tisha B’Av?”… It turns out that he has been honoring the Temple’s destruction for 85 years (when he began fasting a complete day), and he did so during diametrically opposed years – eight decades that span the harsh years under Czarist Russia, followed by an even harsher Communist regime, the years of the Holocaust, and finally the years in free America.
And now it’s 2016. The world is again in turmoil. America is reeling. Israel is bleeding. Every sensitive person feels a profound tentativeness and uncertainty.
85 years. Here stands a man who has been crying on Tisha B’Av for 85 years – a century that has given birth both to the greatest technology and to the greatest destruction.
But even these 85 years pale in comparison to the 1940+ years of our collective Tisha B’Av grieving.
There is something about pain, about loneliness that is extremely powerful when you see it remembered and commemorated for millennia. We usually like to remember our joys and forget our losses. Yet, here we are recreating ruin and destruction, and we are… strengthened, not weakened.
Something so powerful about this recognition of hurt and vulnerability. It’s almost like by facing it we become more powerful. In cliché terminology: That which does not destroy me makes me stronger. When all you experience is beauty and comfort, you can never know how you will face pain and loss. However, when you have been destroyed and still remain standing, then you know you can endure anything and everything.
We also just recited (in the Mincha prayer) the special Tisha B’Av entreaty “Nacheim – Be consoled.” The Arizal (whose yahrzeit was four days ago) explains the reason, because Moshiach is born on Tisha B’Av in the afternoon (as our sages teach).
“Is that,” I am thinking “how the people endured generation after generation, despite all the trials and difficulties?” Was this the belief, the promise, they held on to – the firm belief that Redemption is born in the throes of ruin? “Next Year in Jerusalem!” our ancestors have declared for centuries and centuries. “May Jerusalem be rebuilt” is our daily prayer for thousands of years. As trying as it may be – and as difficult as it ever was – this dream, this aspiration has kept us alive, despite all odds.
We always know that Moshiach is born as the flames rise and consume our structures. And with every birth the light intensifies, to the point that it will never be extinguished.
From Tisha B’Av we enter right into Shabbat Nachamu – “Comfort, comfort my people” – and then into the full moon of the 15th of Menachem Av, when we celebrate the greatest of holidays (“There were no holidays as great as the 15th of Av…” the Mishne tells us), the ascent that follows the deep descent of the 9th of Av.
And what about Jerusalem? What is the holy city of Jerusalem thinking? Does she still sit alone, as the prophet Jeremiah saw her 2424 years ago (as he writes in the opening verse of the book of Eicha)?
I’ll let you know next week when, please G-d, I will write to you from the holy city.
Next week (not year) in Jerusalem. Hopefully all of us will be there.
With eternal hope,
Simon Jacobson
Tags: comfort, Rabbi Simon Jacobson, Tisha B'Av, spiritual, Moshiach, Letters, holocaust, Jerusalem
Posted in Tisha B'Av, Israel, Months & Holidays, Social, Torah, Av, Current Events | No Comments »
January 27th, 2016
Jerusalem Diary
What Happened as the Flames Rose?
Tuesday, August 5, Tisha B’Av, Jerusalem, overlooking the Temple Mount:
I am standing on a rooftop in the Rovah (the Jewish Quarter) in the Old City of Jerusalem, staring at the Temple Mount, mesmerized by the entire scene. To my right I see the mountains where Abraham raised his eyes and gazed at Mt. Moriah (Genesis 22:4). Spanning the horizon from right to left I see the plains of Jericho, across the east bank of the River Jordan, where the Jewish nation crossed into in the Promised Land. Right ahead of me is the Mt. of Olives. And finally, to my left is the Temple Mount.
I mean, does it get better than that? Is there a place on Earth that has more history?
Awe is the only word I can use looking at this scene.
This only confirms my feeling that there is no better place to be now than in Israel. Nothing is closer to reality than standing at the Western Wall on Tisha B’Av, when both Holy Temples were destroyed (thousands of years ago), and rockets are being launched on Israeli cities (in 2014)…
Memories flood me. I was 14 years old the first time I visited the Wall on Tisha B’Av. I was told that on that sad night a white gentle dove appears on top of the Wall and sheds a tear for all that has transpired. I searched for that dove and that tear back then in 1971 and searched for it again last night.
I stand quietly weeping as I stare at the Wall. Broken, scarred, standing alone for over 20 centuries, these barren stones bear witness to all the battles and tragedies that have taken place here throughout history. How much pain and suffering have these enduring stones absorbed? How has the Wall survived it all?
But then a faint smile appears on my face: The fortitude of the Wall also bears witness to eternity. To all the pivotal events that took place at this very spot: The creation of the world began from the Foundation Stone at the peak of the mountain. Adam, the first human, was created here. Abraham’s binding of Isaac and Jacob’s dream all happened here. And then of course, years later, the Holy Temples with the Holy of Holies – where the Divine was revealed on Earth – stood here. All these world changing events are also contained in the Wall’s hidden crevices, as the holiness of this space never leaves… What lessons, I wonder, can the Temple Mount teach us today?”
Our sages tell us (Jerusalem Talmud Berachot 2:4. Midrash Rabba Eicha 1:51) that Moshiach was born as the flames consuming the Holy Temple rose to their highest Tisha B’Av afternoon! What is the significance of this bizarre paradox? Why is the greatest event in history – personal and global redemption – birthed in the darkest moment? And what can we derive from this regarding the present battles in Israel and in our lives?
As I continue to stare at the desolate Temple Mount, the answer, ironically, begins to emerge from this very spot.
The Talmud tells us (end of Tractate Makot) that Rabbi Akiva laughed while his colleagues rent their garments and cried as they witnessed the desolate Temple Mount, where foxes roamed after its destruction. What did Rabbi Akiva see that the other sages did not?
Two forces shape our lives: Pain and pleasure. Though they ostensibly seem like diametric opposites, in truth they are two sides of one coin – two steps in the same life journey. Our myopic, narrow vision – especially when we are still immature and unseasoned – only allows us to see our experiences piece by disjointed piece. In truth, however, a bird’s eye view of the entire horizon – usually seen by people who have matured through suffering – renders all these pieces into frames of one picture, like a story which can only be understood in retrospect after reading the entire book, not just a chapter or two.
Rabbi Akiva – a man who came from a world of darkness: he was ignorant of Torah the first 40 years of his life; he was a son of converts or a convert himself – due to his challenges, gained a perspective that only comes from hard earned, harsh life experiences. This allowed him to transcend a barren mountain and a destroyed Temple and see the future being born in the belly of the beast.
People who have healed through suffering, grown through loss, become empowered through deprivation, have developed a new lens to see growth where others see an abyss.
These are the thoughts flowing through me at the original “ground zero” – here at the holiest place on earth, on the saddest day in history.
The broken Wall, with all its cracks and wounds, silently carries immortality.
Events in Israel today also carry these two visions: Do we see dark shadows, or do we see the light at the end of the tunnel? Do we serve merely as firefighters extinguishing the latest fire, short-term Band-Aids dealing with symptoms, or will we have the courage and strength – and vision – to solve the problem at its root?
And the dove? I am certain that the dove does indeed appear atop the wall. I am also certain that it sheds a tear, but also a smile. However, we need the right set of eyes – the eyes of Rabbi Akiva – to see this bird of peace.
View Rabbi Jacobson’s latest class broadcast Tisha B’Av afternoon overlooking the Temple Mount.
Tags: Jerusalem, Western wall, Beis Hamikdash
Posted in Tisha B'Av, Israel, Months & Holidays, Beliefs & Concepts, Social, Exile, Moshiach & Redemption, Torah, September 11th, Av, Current Events | 1 Comment »
January 21st, 2016
Those that sow in tears will reap in joy
— Psalms 126:5
We must translate pain into action, and tears into growth
— The Rebbe
Destruction is a universal experience. Sadly, no one is a stranger to it.
It comes in many forms. Buildings crumble, seasons change, eras come to an end, people pass on from this world, and relationships fall apart. Sometimes the destruction is intentional, sometimes it is unexplainable, sometimes anticipated and sometimes unfathomable. What do we do when something beautiful and sacred is demolished? How can we rebuild a destroyed relationship or broken heart? How can we learn to dance again after we have cried such shattered tears? How do we rebuild from the ruins?
We stand now in a period of sadness and destruction. Each year on the 9th day of the month of Av we mourn that the Holy Temple in Jerusalem was burned to the ground. Yet we must get up from this destruction. We are ordered to build anew!
Perhaps the following six steps can help us through the process of rebuilding life after the trauma of destruction.
TOOL 1: DISCOVER THE PROBLEM
When things are going well, we take for granted that every detail of our lives is working smoothly and efficiently. Devastation, pain, and destruction force us to dissect the inner being of who we are, obliging us to honestly evaluate what is working and what is not. The first step in rebuilding life after trauma is to put the microscope to your life, to discover the root of the destruction, to single out its toxicity, and then to challenging its very existence. Once privy to this information, we are compelled to ask: What can I do to remove the destruction? What causes this destruction? How can I reconstruct that which has been decimated? What materials do I need to rebuild my life?
TOOL 2: SEE THE BIG PICTURE
A big part of destruction is only being able to see the crumbled mess that lies at your feet, right under your nose. We have the tendency to dwell on the ruins. It’s all we can see and focus on. A big step in rebuilding is to step back for a moment and take in the entire landscape. Look at your life up until this point, the experiences you’ve had, the lessons you’ve learned, your previous rebounds. Know that we are only given challenges that the creator knows we can overcome. From this we can see that the obvious next step is to get out your tools and construction hat because the only way forward after trauma is to rebuild.
TOOL 3: THE LAW OF DESTRUCTION
The law in Jewish tradition is that you may only tear down a house of worship in order to build a new one in its place. The law is very stringent and goes on to say that that the new building must be superior (in size, beauty, etc.) to the one being torn down. Additionally, the new building’s construction must begin immediately and must be pursued “day and night, lest difficulties arise that will cause it to remain desolate—even for a time.” From this we learn the importance of not idling around. We are commanded to begin rebuilding life anew. Even more, we learn that before the building was even destroyed, there were already grander plans in place for a bigger, better opportunity.
TOOL 4: START A MOVEMENT
In order to build (and rebuild) you have to move—you have to move away and distract yourself from the painful situation. Distance yourself from the cause that produced the pain in the first place. This movement may be as simple as finding a new friend, reading a new book, getting involved in a project, or taking a class—anything to alter your solitary, limited perspective on yourself and the world. Destruction is old, static, and predictable. Rebuilding life after trauma is new, dynamic, and innovative. Movement is the process of going from standing still, to still standing—and then from still standing to flying high.
TOOL 5: YOUR NET WORKS
Trauma, by nature, thrives on your isolation. By connecting with people; family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, you are tapping into humanity and your role in the universe. When you are broken, your network can help complete you; when someone in your network is down, you can lift that someone up. Part of rebuilding life after trauma is simply reconnecting to humanity.
TOOL 6: CRACK APART OR CRACK OPEN
A crack can be the sound on destruction, but on the other side of the same coin, the crack is the sound of construction. We must break down in order to break free and achieve new heights. Sometimes it’s a matter of perspective. We must see and recognize the potential left by a gaping hole. A crack that destroys is one that cracks things apart; a crack that builds is one that cracks things open. The former focuses on what can’t be; the latter on what can. A seed must decompose before it sprouts.
The destructions of the first and second Temples in Jerusalem are the archetypes for coping with our personal traumas. This three-week period of mourning and sadness for the destruction of all the Temples is a time for us to realize what went wrong and what we can—and will—do to make it right. Repair your own life; help to repair the lives of others; strive to champion the entities which supply dignity and purpose to you and to the world.
This is an excerpt from: Deluge In Texas: Lessons for Us
This is an excerpt from: Deluge In Texas: Lessons for Us

SOULGYM I MASTERCLASS
Live with Rabbi Simon Jacobson
Why Trauma Isn’t Your Enemy—It’s Your Wake-Up Call
Wednesday, July 16, 2025 @8:30pm
Live Stream | Podcast
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Tags: purpose, Living 101, trauma, abuse, abused children, healing, Beis Hamikdash
Posted in Tisha B'Av, Months & Holidays, Soul Gym, Personal Life, Torah, Emotions & Psychology, Pain & Suffering, Av | 6 Comments »
January 20th, 2016
Can You Swim?
Rabban Gamliel, Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah, Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Akiva were walking in the vicinity of Rome. From far away, they heard the sounds of a thriving metropolis, and three of them began to cry, but Rabbi Akiva laughed.
They said to him, “Why are you laughing?” {Rabbi Akiva responded:]“And you, why are you crying?” “These barbarians, who bow to idols and burn incense for false gods, are living in peace and security, while we, the footstool of whose G-d is burnt with fire – should we not cry?” He said to them, “That is exactly why I am laughing. If people who violate the will of G-d have it so good, how much better will those who act according to His Will, have it?”
Another time, the same scholars were walking towards Jerusalem. When they reached Mt. Scopus (from which it is possible to see the Temple Mount), they tore their clothing. When they arrived at the Temple Mount, they saw a fox running out of the area where the Holy of Holies had been. They began to cry, while Rabbi Akiva laughed.
They said to him, “Why are you laughing?” He responded, “Why are you crying?”
“If from the place about which it is written, ‘And the stranger who enters there, shall die,’ we see a fox coming out, should we not cry?”
“For that very reason, I am laughing. Isaiah the Prophet said, ‘I will bring two reliable witnesses regarding my People, Uriah the Priest and Zecharia ben Yevarech’yahu. ‘(Isaiah 8:2) Now what do Uriah and Zecharia have to do with each other? Uriah prophesied in the time of the First Temple, and Zecharya in the time of the Second Temple! But the verse in Isaiah makes Zecharia’s prophecy dependent on Uriah’s.
“In Uriah’s case, it is written, ‘Therefore, because of you, Zion will be plowed under like a field.’ (Michah/Uriah 3:12) In the case of Zecharia, we find,
‘Yet again, elderly men and elderly women will sit in the streets of Jeruselam (and each will have a staff in his or her hand from great age. And the streets of the city will be full of children, playing in her streets) (Zecharia 8:4-5)
Until I saw the fulfillment of Uriah’s prophecy, I had some doubt as to whether Zecharia’s prophecy would come true. Now that I have seen Uriah’s prophecy fulfilled in full detail, I know that Zecharya’s prophecy will also be fulfilled.”
Hearing that, Rabbi Akiva’s colleagues said to him, “Akiva, you have comforted us. Akiva, you have comforted us.” (End of the tractate Makot)
This time of year is the saddest one in the Hebrew calendar. During these “Nine Days,” the period from the first day of Av until the 9th of Av (Tisha b’Av), we mourn the destruction of the two holy Temples: the first Temple destroyed by the Babylonians 2426 years ago, the second one by the Romans 1936 years ago.
Why would we still be grieving over a structure destroyed thousands of years ago?
For two reasons:
1/ The Temple was not a mere piece of real estate. It was a window between heaven and earth. The Temple bridged spirit and matter. Thus its destruction was not just an isolated historical event, but one whose effects are still reverberating today. As long as tension remains between the physical and the spiritual, we are experiencing the loss of the Temple. Which is why our sages tell us that “a generation that does not rebuild the temple is considered as if it destroyed it.”
2/ Time is not linear but spiral. Events that happen in a particular time of year are related to the energy flow of that respective time. And that energy flow repeats itself each year as the cycle returns to that point in time.
The negative energy that manifested when the Temple was first destroyed repeats itself each year during this period in time.
In other words: Historical events are merely outer manifestations of invisible forces that are always at work behind the scenes.
Our grief for the destruction of the Temple includes all areas in life that cause us anguish.
Therein lays a profound lesson in life, and a universal lesson at that.
The Hebrew calendar reflects the true rhythm of life. Life is not a comprised of particles but of waves. Like the waves of the sea, life consists of cycles, with troughs and crests, some of which may be extreme.
A good swimmer recognizes the dynamic nature of water, and adjusts accordingly. In contrast to a static plateau, which one can navigate without fluctuation, the waves of water require constant vigilance to negotiate the cycles. When a strong wave hits, a proficient swimmer will not resist or fight the wave, but “go with the flow” and allow the cresting wave to carry him. Any attempt to ignore or fight the wave will quickly deplete the swimmer’s energy, with the risk of drowning the swimmer. In the case of a severe stormy sea, the need to surrender to the flow of the waves is only amplified.
On the other hand, when the waves are relatively calm, the swimmer uses their energy as a catalyst for forward thrust.
Interestingly, when negotiated properly, both stages, whether it be stormy waves or calm ones, are forms of energy that are all part of the swimming cycle. Indeed, a powerful wave that cannot be fought can be tapped in a powerful way, as long as you ride it and don’t try to resist.
Now back to the wave-cycle of time. Time too consists of crests and troughs. The Hebrew calendar is a sort of travel guide through time that helps us align ourselves to the inner rhythms of life’s cycles.
As the Talmud declares: “Just as when Av arrives decrease joy, so too when Adar arrives increase joy.” Strange statement: Why equate the two periods in time? Even if the Talmud wanted to make both statements, it could have simply said: “When Av arrives decrease in joy; when Adar arrives increase in joy”?!
The Talmud is telling us that time is a cycle. Av and Adar are not just two unrelated, diametrically opposed, periods in time: One filled with sorrow, the other with joy. They are like the trough and crest of one wave: Just as Av brings on a decrease in joy, so too Adar brings on an increase in joy.
And therein lies the secret behind Rabbi Akiva’s laugh. It goes without saying that Rabbi Akiva also fasted and grieved on Tisha B’av, and probably shed a tear or two. The Temple’s destruction was no less a tragedy for him than it was for his colleagues. Yet, Rabbi Akiva recognized the bigger picture: Within the tragedy he was able to see the end of the story. Within the death he was able to see the birthing of a better future.
When he heard that the Jews continue to mourn the destruction of the Temple for close to two millennia, Napoleon purportedly said: “Because they continue to cry for the Temple, they will ultimately get it back.”
Crying over the loss of the Temple is like riding the difficult waves. By not ignoring and not fighting them, the tears become part of the swim, part of the journey, that swim ultimately leads us to our destination. If you forget and get desensitized to the sadness of life, then you become desensitized to the joy as well. In other words: If you don’t cry when it’s time to cry, you won’t be able to rejoice when it’s time to celebrate. If you cry when the situation calls for it, you will see it through and rejoice when the time comes (“Just as when Av arrives decrease joy, so too when Adar arrives increase joy”). When you navigate the troughs you have the power to ride the crests.
This also explains how the Munkatcher Rav (Minchas Elozor) interprets the Talmud: “When Av arrives decrease – the negative energy of Av through – joy.” How can he turn around the literal meaning of the statement, which specifically directs us to decrease joy? In Jewish thought, based on faith in G-d, even a decrease in joy is not an end in itself, but part of a larger picture. In that context, even the decrease in joy in the month of Av is only a decrease on an ostensible level; within the sadness lays a deep joy – the joy of the light at the end of the tunnel, that our mourning today is a yearning that will lead us to the rebuilding of the Temple. How do we reveal that joy? By acting joyously (in ways that are halachakly/legally permitted) during the month of Av.
There are two ways to celebrate joy. One is through revealed joy, like the overt celebration of Adar; the other is through the joy that lies within the challenges of life as well. Both are part of one story – both part of one journey, the journey of our life’s waves.
There was once a Chassid who was unjustly imprisoned by the Czar’s regime, a common event in those days. His Rebbe was allowed to visit him once. When the Rebbe came to see him he noticed that the Chassid was despondent. “Why are you feeling so down?” the Rebbe asked him. Didn’t we learn that one must always serve G-d with joy, and even negative experiences are also for the good?” The Chassid replied: “I am not saddened by the fact that I am in prison, but because it’s now two weeks that I have been unable to recite a blessing in this prison.” In his cell there was a pail used for lavatory purposes that did not allow one to recite a blessing.
The Rebbe smiled and told him: “But isn’t it true that the same G-d who commanded us to recite a blessing, also commanded us not to recite on under such conditions. So, even as you don’t recite a blessing you are equally performing a mitzvah, which should be done with joy!”
Upon hearing the Rebbe’s words, the Chassid jumped up and began to dance. His exuberance was contagious and the other prisoners, Jews and non-Jews, joined him in celebration. One of the rabid anti-Semitic guards inquired as to the reason for the joy. One of the prisoners told him,
“That Jew over there is the one that began the dancing. I don’t know the exact catalyst, but I know it has some connection to the pail in his cell.”
When the guard heard that, he immediately entered the cell of the Chassid, and said,
“I’ll show you. I am getting rid of the pail in your cell!”…
The Baal Shem Tov uses an analogy of a spiral staircase. In Yiddish a spiral staircase is called “shvindel trep,” literally: Swindling steps. Why? Because when you climb a regular vertical staircase, you see the destination and you see yourself getting closer to it as you climb the stairs. A spiral staircase “swindles” you, because as you get closer to the destination you have to turn completely around, in a 360 degree turn, to the point when cannot see the apex. Indeed, just before you reach the top, you must turn completely around for the last time. When you’re still far from the destination you may be able to see it, but just before reaching your destination you have your back to it.
The challenge is to know how to see it through.
Rabbi Akiva, a man who paid many prices, a man who discovered his soul at age forty, was able to see the big picture. He was never swindled by the apparent dips and downs in life. Therefore he was able to laugh when others cried.
And his vision helps us all see better. It comforts us and helps us smile.
Ironic isn’t it that good times can allow us to be trapped in the small picture. Sadder moments leave us no choice but to recognize the bigger picture.
But after all is said and done, we have been promised that the worst is over and the best is yet to come. We have had more than our share of troughs, and are ready for the ultimate crest.
Are we ready?
Tags: Av, joy, humor, nine days, Rabbi Akiva, Tisha B'Av, Temple
Posted in Tisha B'Av, Devarim, Weekly Parsha, Months & Holidays, Personal Life, Devarim, Pain & Suffering, Av | 1 Comment »
January 19th, 2016
On the 7th of Sivan, Moses went up onto the mountain…. On the 17th of Tammuz the Tablets were broken. On the 18th he burned the [Golden] Calf and judged the transgressors. On the 19th he went up for forty days and pleaded for mercy. On the 1st of Elul he went up to receive the Second Tablets, and was there for forty days. On the 10th of Tishrei G-d restored His goodwill with the Jewish people gladly and wholeheartedly, saying to Moses “I have forgiven, as you ask,” and gave him the Second Tablets.
Rashi, Exodus 32:1 and 33:11
A single drop of seawater, analyzed in the laboratory, will reveal the characteristics of billions of its sisters; indeed, it will tell you much about every drop in every ocean on earth.
The same is true of history. On the one hand, each period is unique, each year, day and moment distinct in content and character. And yet, as we often recognize, the story of an individual life may tell the story of a century, and the events of a single generation may embody those of an entire era. On the surface, time may more resemble the disparate terrain of land than it does the uniform face of the sea; but once you strip away the externalities of background and circumstance, a drop in the ocean of time will reflect vast tracts of its waters and, ultimately, its entire expanse.
We, who travel the terrestrial surface of time, know it as a succession of events and experiences. We traverse its rises and slumps, its deserts and wetlands, its smooth and rocky passes. To us, the universal nature of the moment lies buried deep beneath its more immediate significance; to us, the moment yields not the totality of life and history, only those specific elements and facets thereof which it embodies.
But there are also vistas of a more inclusive nature, landscapes of such diversity and impact that they are virtual mini-worlds of their own. There are stretches in the journey of an individual or a people in which the all-reflectiveness of the moment rises to the surface, in which a series of events offers a condensed version of the entire universe of time.
One such potent stretch of time was a 120-day period in the years 2448-9 from Creation (1313 bce). The events of this period, experienced by the Jewish people soon after their birth as a nation, choreograph the very gist of the human story—the basis, the process, and the end-goal of life on earth. The 120 days from Sivan 6, 2448 to Tishrei 10, 2449 contained it all: the underpinnings of creation, the saga of human struggle, and the ultimate triumph which arises from the imperfections and failings of man.
The Events
On Sivan 6, 2448, the entire people of Israel gathered at Mount Sinai to receive the Torah from G-d. There they heard the Ten Commandments which encapsulate the entire Torah. The following morning, Moses ascended the mountain, where he communed with G-d for forty days and forty nights and received the Torah proper, the more detailed rendition of G-d’s communication to humanity.[1]
At the end of these forty days on Mount Sinai, G-d gave Moses two tablets of stone, “the handiwork of G-d,” upon which the Ten Commandments were “engraved by the finger of G-d.”[2] But in the camp below, the Jewish people were already abandoning their newly made covenant with G-d. Reverting to the paganism of Egypt, they made a calf of gold and, amidst feasting and hedonistic disport, proclaimed it the god of Israel.[3]
G-d said to Moses: Go, descend, for your people, which you have brought up from the land of Egypt, have been corrupted; they have quickly turned from the path that I have commanded them…
And Moses turned and went down from the mountain with the two Tablets of Testimony in his hand…. And when Moses approached the camp and saw the calf and the dancing … he threw the tablets from his hands and shattered them at the foot of the mountain.[4]
It was the 17th of Tammuz.
Moses destroyed the idol and rehabilitated the errant nation. He then returned to Sinai for a second forty days, to plead before G-d for the forgiveness of Israel. G-d agreed to provide a second set of tablets to replace those which had been broken in the wake of Israel’s sin. These tablets, however, were not to be the “handiwork of G-d,” but of human construction:
And G-d said to Moses: “Carve yourself two tablets of stone, like the first; and I shall inscribe upon them the words that were on the first tablets which you have broken…. Come up in the morning to Mt. Sinai, and present yourself there to Me on the top of the mountain.”[5]
On the 1st of Elul, Moses ascended Sinai for his third and final forty days atop the mountain. On Tishrei 10, we received our second set of the Ten Commandments, inscribed by G-d upon the tablets carved by Moses’ hand.
Thus, we have three forty-day periods, and three corresponding states of Torah: the First Tablets, the Broken Tablets, and the Second Tablets. These embody the foundation of our existence, the challenge of life, and the ultimate achievement of man.
The Plot
Our sages point out that the opening verse of the Torah’s account of creation, “Bereishit bara Elokim…” (“In the beginning G-d created the heavens and the earth…”), begins with the letter bet—the second letter of the Hebrew alef-bet. This is to teach us that there is an alef that comes before the bet of the created existence; that creation is not an end in itself, but comes to serve a principle which precedes it in sequence and substance.
The pre-Genesis alef is the alef of “Anochi Hashem Elokecha…” (“I am the L-rd your G-d…”)—the first letter of the Ten Commandments. Torah is G-d’s preconception of what life on earth should be like; the basis and raison d’etre of creation is that we develop ourselves and our environment to this ideal.
But G-d wanted more. More than the realization of His original blueprint for existence, more than the falling into place of a pre-programmed perfection. More than a “First Tablets” world that is wholly the handiwork of G-d.
A created entity, by definition, has nothing that is truly its own: all the tools, potentials and possibilities it possesses have been given to it by its Creator. But G-d desired that the human experience should yield a profit beyond that projected—or even warranted—by His initial investment in us. So He created us with the vulnerabilities of the human condition.
He created us with the freedom to choose, and thus with the potential for failure. When we act righteously and constructively, we are behaving “according to plan” and realizing the potential invested within us by our Creator. But when we choose to act wrongly and destructively, we enter into a state of being that is not part of the plan of Torah—indeed, it is the antithesis of what Torah prescribes; yet this state of being is the springboard for teshuvah (“return”)—the power to rise from the ruins of our fall to a new dimension of perfection, a perfection unenvisionable by our untarnished past.
This is how Chassidic teaching explains G-d’s creation of the possibility of evil. This is His “fearsome plot upon the children of man.”[6] The soul of man is a “spark of G-dliness,” inherently and utterly good; in and of itself, it is in no way susceptible to corruption. Its human frailties are nothing less than a contrived plot, imposed upon it in total contrast to its essential nature.
If the “First Tablets” are the divine vision of creation, the “Broken Tablets” are our all-too-familiar world—a world that tolerates imperfection, failure, even outright evil. It is a world whose First Tablets have been shattered—a world gone awry from its foundation and its true self, a world wrenched out of sync with its inherent goodness.
The Broken Tablets are a plot contrived by the Author of existence to allow for the possibility of a “Second Tablets.” Every failing, every decline, can be exploited and redirected as a positive force. Every breakdown of the soul’s First Tablets perfection is an opportunity for man to “carve for yourself” a second set, in which the divine script is chiseled upon the tablets of human initiative and creation. A second set which includes an entire vista of potentials that were beyond the scope of the first, wholly divine set.
In the words of our sages:
G-d said to Moses: “Do not be distressed over the First Tablets, which contained only the Ten Commandments. In the Second Tablets I am giving you also Halachah, Midrash and Aggadah.”[7]
Had Israel not sinned with the Golden Calf, they would have received only the Five Books of Moses and the book of Joshua. For as the verse says, ‘Much[8] wisdom comes through much grief.’”[9]
Annual Revisitation
These 120 days have left a lasting imprint on our experience of time.
Every year on the 6th of Sivan (the festival of Shavuot) we once again experience the revelation at Sinai and our acquisition of the blueprint and foundation of our lives. Forty days later, on the 17th of Tammuz, we once again deal with the setbacks and breakdowns epitomized by the events of the day.[10] The month of Elul and the first ten days of Tishrei, corresponding to Moses’ third 40-day stay on Mount Sinai, are, as they were then, days of “goodwill” between G-d and man—days in which the Almighty is that much more accessible to all who seek Him.
And Yom Kippur, the holiest and most potent day of the year, marks the climax of the 120-day saga. Ever since the day that G-d gave the Second Tablets to the people of Israel, this day is a fountainhead of teshuvah: the source of our capacity to reclaim the deficiencies of the past as fuel and momentum for the attainment of new, unprecedented heights; the source of our capacity to exact a “profit” from G-d’s volatile and risky investment in human life.
Based on an address by the Rebbe, Adar I 18, 5752 (February 22, 1992).[11]
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber.
[1]. Exodus, chs. 19 and 20; ibid. 24:12-18.
[6]. Psalms 66:5. See Midrash Tanchuma, Vayeishev 4; Talmud and Rashi, Berachot 31b.
[7]. Midrash Rabbah, Shemot 46:1.
[9]. Talmud, Nedarim 22b.
[10]. The 17th of Tammuz is observed as a fast day in commemoration of five national tragedies that befell the people of Israel on this day, the first of which is the breaking of the Tablets (see Talmud, Taanit 26a-b).
[11]. Sefer HaSichot 5752.
Tags: 10 Commandments, teshuvah, Moses, time
Posted in Tishrei, Shavuot, Months & Holidays, Yom Kippur, 17 Tammuz, Torah, Tammuz | No Comments »
January 13th, 2016
We are now in week five of the Seven Weeks of Comfort that follow the Three Weeks of Affliction. In these weeks we are comforted over the destruction and loss of the Holy Temple, and they prepare us for rebirth and renewal in the upcoming New Year.
How appropriate as we approach the first anniversary of September 11 and we search for ways to commemorate the tragic events of last year, honor the losses and rebuild in a new, uncertain world. How appropriate as we continue to grieve the losses in Israel, and look for hope in our challenging journey ahead.
By digging deeper into the 2424 year-old system of the Seven Weeks of Comfort we can discover the secrets of how to deal with destruction, consolation and renewal – the mystery of eternity that has held us together through centuries of upheaval.
Following is one application of these Seven Weeks, based on the explanation of the Midrash (cited in Avudraham) of the seven Haftorahs we read during these weeks.
Following is one application of these Seven Weeks, based on the explanation of the Midrash (cited in Avudraham) of the seven Haftorahs we read during these weeks, as I discussed in last week’s article.
The seven haftorahs are sort of a dialogue between the people and G-d, as I outlined in last week’s article. This dialogue is actually a process that can be recreated in this 7 week period; a process that can help us establish a dialogue with G-d as we attempt to heal and grow through our losses and experiences.
I should add, that this system is relevant to all of us and at all times. Even if you have not personally experienced a (recent) loss, we all: 1) are living in the same uncertain world and are in need of healing. 2) must empathize with others who are suffering. 3) can and must always grow; even when things are going relatively well, there is so much more that we can reach. And relative to our own level we all need a form of healing and elevation from level to level. As the saying goes (in Yiddish): “Oib gut iz gut, iz besser nisht besser? – If good is good, is better not better?”
The Seven Steps to Healing from Loss
Week 1. Nachamu Nachamu – Companionship
First we must comfort each other. If you have been hurt, you must find friends that can comfort you. It’s not enough to turn to G-d. You need to find peers that you can relate to and that can relate to you. Once something has broken, you have to begin rebuilding from the bottom up. We may not be initially ready for G-d Himself to come and console us directly. We first need to create the proper ‘container’ to acclimate ourselves to receive G-d’s blessings and consolations.
Exercise: Find a friend, find a teacher that can hold your hand and help you through a difficult time. Someone sincere and real, who can accompany you and then help prepare you for the next stages. And allow yourself to be such a friend for others as well.
Week 2. G-d has forsaken me; My G-d has forgotten me – Awareness
Once we have done everything humanly possible to heal and comfort each other, we then reach a new level of awareness and sensitivity, where we can recognize blind spots and undernourished parts of our soul that was previously obscured. In our newfound awareness we cry out, “G-d has forsaken me; my G-d has forgotten me.” We feel a deep void.
Exercise: Next time you cry, don’t just cry for your pain and sense of being overwhelmed. Try to focus not just on your feelings of emptiness, but feel that your cry is also for the void of not feeling your connection to that which is Higher than yourself – your connection to G-d.
Week 3. The afflicted, storm-tossed one is not consoled – Acknowledgement
Our cry reaches heaven. And it is acknowledged: We are not consoled by mortals; we are not comforted by even the best of intentions and words. We are not satisfied with being pacified over our losses; neither are we soothed by just damage control and ‘doing the best with what we have.’ We want to not only heal from loss, but redeem the loss. We need to know that our pain is not just being lifted, but that it brings us and those around us – and above all, our lost loved ones – to a greater place. And this yearning is acknowledged above; it is not only our wish and hope, G-d acknowledges that we are entitled. Entitled to more.
Exercise: Be compassionate and sensitive to those around you. Acknowledge the void in others, and your void will be acknowledged as well.
Week 4. I, I am He who comforts you – Reunion
A new Divine power enters into your life (made possible by the previous three steps/weeks). A force that brings you deep comfort from within, knowing that you have an absolute and indispensable purpose in this world, one that transcends and encompasses all life experiences, even painful ones. It is the sense that you can and will make it through everything and anything. This power is not a mortal one; it is Divine, and it gives you the ability to experience a deep calm – being at peace with your center.
Exercise: Say Modeh Ani prayer every morning, acknowledging the return of your soul for a new day. Connecting to your soul and your personal mission statement – your indispensable role in this world.
Week 5. Sing barren one, you who have not given birth – Rebirth
After the initial reconnect and corresponding comfort, we can begin to feel reborn and refreshed. Even though we may feel ‘barren’ and have ‘not given birth,’ we learn to sing. Not because we accept our ‘barren’ state, but because we learn to give birth in new ways. We learn new tools and methods – sometimes ones that like ‘bypass surgery’ open up new channels of birth, ones that even greater than conventional channels, ones that give birth to more numerous children. And we expand to far greater places. Resultingly, we don’t just sing, we break into a song.
Exercise: Meditate and internalize the lines of this week’s haftorah. G-d tells you “Do not fear, for you will not be ashamed… You will forget the shame of your youth and the reproach of your widowhood… For your Creator is your husband… The Holy of Israel is your Redeemer. For G-d called you as a wife abandoned and grieved in spirit. Can a wife of youth be rejected? Says your G-d. For a brief moment I forsook you, but I will gather you with great compassion. In an outburst of wrath, for a moment I hid my face from you; but with everlasting kindness I will have compassion on you.”
Then sing a song to yourself, sing for the blessings in your life.
Week 6. Arise, shine for your light has come – Rebuilding
But even as we are comforted, the world around us may still remain a dangerous place. It’s not enough to insulate ourselves from the pain around us, we must also be able to feel secure in our environment. So after we are personally comforted and given the ability for rebirth, we now are comforted by the fact that we have the power to transform and rebuild the world around – even a dark and uncertain world.
Exercise: Now meditate and internalize these words: “Arise, shine for your light has come, and the Divine glory has risen upon you. For, behold, darkness will cover the earth and thick darkness the peoples, but G-d will arise over you and His glory will be seen upon you. Nations will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising… Aliens will build up your walls…The sons of your oppressors will come bending to you, and all who despised you will bow down at your feet. They will call you, “The city of G-d, the Zion of the Holy one of Israel.” Though you were forsaken and hated with no one passing through you, I will make you an eternal majesty…Violence will no longer be heard in your land, neither desolation nor destruction within your borders…Your sun will no longer set, not will your moon wane. For G-d will be your everlasting light, and your days of mourning will be ended. Your people will all be righteous; they will possess the land forever; the branch of My planting, the work of My hands… The smallest will become a thousand, and the least a mighty nation; I, G-d, will hasten in its time.”
Now, sing not just for yourself, but sing a melody for and with others.
Week 7. I will greatly rejoice in G-d – Reconciliation, Renewal
After the previous six weeks/levels of comfort, we have grown and acknowledge that growth. We reach the point where we are now ready to reciprocate. And we do – in a celebration of joy. “I will greatly rejoice in G-d, my soul will exult in my G-d, for He clothed me with the garments of salvation.” We commit ourselves to be awake and alert – “For Zion’s sake I will not keep silent, and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not be still, until her righteousness shines forth like radiance… The nations will see your righteousness. And all the kings your glory.”
Exercise: Do your part to protect the sacred and defend the helpless. Speak out and take a stand. “O Jerusalem, I have set watchmen on your walls. They will never be silent day or night… Behold G-d has proclaimed to the end of earth: Say to the daughter of Zion: Behold, your salvation comes… They will call them ‘The Holy People,’ G-d’s redeemed; and you will be called “Sought Out,” a city not forsaken.
Recognize the Divine choreography in today’s world events. “Who is this that comes from Edom…”
And above all, remember that G-d is with us in all our pain. “In all their affliction He was afflicted…In His love and pity He redeemed them; He lifted them up and carried them through all the years.”
Now, we are ready to enter the New Year.
Tags: teshuvah, healing, the seven weeks of comfort, loss
Posted in Rosh Hashanah, Tisha B'Av, Tishrei, Months & Holidays, Month of Elul, 17 Tammuz, Elul | 1 Comment »