July 21st, 2015
The month which was transformed for them from sorrow to joy..
Book of Esther 9:22
When the month Adar enters, increase in joy
Talmud, Taanis 29.
Yet Adar’s is no “ordinary” joy. More than the joy derived from a fortunate event, more than the delight in a pleasing break in the monotonous ordinary, it is the joy of transformation. It is the joy of the bitter turned sweet, of the adverse converted into a positive force.
The transformative nature of Adar joy is also reflected by the context in which the Talmud proclaims it the most joyous of months. The statement quoted above does not appear in the tractate of Megilah, where the Talmud elaborates on the miraculous events of Purim and set down the laws and costumes of the merry festival. Rather, it appears in the tractate Taanis (“fasts”) in the midst of a discussion of the most tragic date in the Jewish calendar. On the 9th of Av, we fast and mourn the destruction of the Holy Temple. “When the month of Av enters, decrease in joy,” states the Talmud; then in its commentary of this law, it mentions: “but when Adar enters, increase in joy…”
Sixty’s Flip
Once every two or three years Adar doubles in size. This is due to the unique structure of the Jewish calendar: since the Jewish year is comprised of 12 lunar months, it averages only 354 days (12×29.5). To bring it in sync with the seasons of the 365.25-day solar year, a leap year of 13 months is scheduled seven times in a 19-year cycle. The added month is an Adar II, making the leap year Adar (including its Rosh Chodesh days) a 60-day affair.
“Sixty” is a number which figures prominently in the Torah’s dietary laws (the Kosher laws). If a non-kosher (“impure”) foodstuff is dissolved in or cooked together with kosher food, the entire lot is rendered unfit for consumption. However, if the “negative influence” amounts to 1/60th or less of the total mass, it is “nullified by sixty.” The “impure substance” is neutralized and, furthermore, becomes part and parcel of the kosher whole.
Of all months, Adar is the only one to double it to sixty. For Adar is the month of joyous transformation, the month with the “nullifying power” of sixty. The power to transform an undesirable — even destructive — force into a nourishing joy and delight.
Tags: fasting, transformation, Adar, Hebrew calendar, joy, Talmud
Posted in Months & Holidays, Personal Life, Adar, Torah, Emotions & Psychology | No Comments »
July 21st, 2015
The Talmud says: “when [the month of ] Adar arrives, increase in joy”
(Taanis 26b)
Since one has to always grow and ascend in all good activities, the increase in joy in this month must also grow from day to day.
***
True wholesome joy comes from within. From a deep feeling that ‘I matter,’ my feelings count and I know I can contribute. Every person matters becasue he was created by G-D with a unique purpose that no other person can fulfill.
***
Joy is contagious. When you’re down and under, fight your instict to remain alone and associate yourself with others who are celebrating in joy. Their joy rubs off on you and can often balance out your moroseness, or at least distract you from it.
***
An act done with joy is always more successful and fruitful.
Tags: G-d's love, friendship, Adar, joy
Posted in Months & Holidays, Personal Life, Adar, Torah, Emotions & Psychology | No Comments »
July 21st, 2015
… Before Haman was cast a pur—that is, the lottery—from day to day, and from month to month, to the twelfth month, the month of Adar
Esther 3:7
Purim is the plural of pur, which is Persian for “lottery.” Purim, the festival, is so called in reference to the several lotteries Haman had thrown to determine the date of his planned massacre of the Jewish people, G-d forbid.
Altogether, Haman consulted three lotteries. The first lottery was to choose the day of the week (the results of which were inconclusive), the second to select a month (which indicated the month of Adar as an auspicious time for Haman’s plans), and the third to determine the day of the month (the lot fell on the 13th).[1] The first lottery, however, seems superfluous: if the month and the day of the month are chosen, the day of the week is already known. Perhaps Haman wanted to test his luck by seeing whether his lotteries would corroborate. Yet the fact that the day-of-the-week lottery was the first one that Haman consulted indicates that the placement of his chosen day within the weekly cycle was of primary importance to him.
The Clocks of Nature
A cursory look at our calendar shows that we measure time in what seems an awkward and inconvenient way. To distinguish a certain date, we refer both to the seven-day weekly cycle as well as to the 29.5 day lunar cycle (which gives us alternating 29- and 30-day months)—two time systems which bear no relation to each other. Hence, if a given day of a given month falls on Shabbat one year, it may occur on a Monday on the next; a month might have four Fridays one year and five Fridays the next. Why not employ a system that places our days in a singular, uniform context?
But time itself was designed to be experienced this way. The Torah relates that when G-d created the sun and the moon He decreed that “they shall serve as luminaries in the sky… and as signs, times, days and years.”[2] In other words, the human practice of charting time by the movements of the sun and the moon is not coincidental, but intrinsic to the purpose of their creation: one of the reasons G-d set the sun and moon in the heavens is that man should be guided by them in his computation of time. Thus we have two distinct time-formulas: lunar time, by which we set our months, and solar time, which gives us the day, the week (which is the solar day multiplied by seven) and the year. If the two run at variance with each other it is because they are indeed different and asynchronous levels of experience, and are to be incorporated as such into our lives.
Lunar time is fluctuant, marked by steep declines and heroic resurrections. The moon begins each cycle as a mere sliver of light in our sky; then it steadily grows and fills, until, midway through the cycle, it attains its full luminescent potential. But then it begins to recede, finally dwindling to oblivion—only to be reborn and embark on yet another ascent to fullness.
The sun is a bulwark of stability and regularity
In contrast, the sun is a bulwark of stability and regularity. What is surer than its daily rise in the east? It never misses a day, and is always the same size. What is more stable than the annual clock of seasons, with its scarcely varying calendar of 365–366 days? (The lunar “year” comes in six different sizes—353, 354, 355, 383, 384 or 385 days). And finally, what is more regular than the seven-day week? Instituted at creation,[3] it cuts straight as a rule through time, oblivious to the moon’s phases, the sun’s tilt through the seasons, even the rare solar eclipse. Seven sunrises and seven sunsets make a week, and that’s that.
Man lives by both these clocks. Lunar time is the variable in life: our ups and downs, our failures and comebacks, our capacity for change and renewal. Solar time is the immutable in our lives—the things that always were and always will be, as dictated by the laws of nature and history.
Jewish Time
“The people of Israel,” say our sages, “are analogous to the moon. They count by the moon, and are destined to be renewed like the moon.”[4]
The people of Israel count by the moon—our calendar is basically a lunar calendar, in which the month is born, rises, falls and is reborn with the moon. The Jewish month begins with the new moon’s appearance in the sky, reaches its climax with the full moon on the fifteenth of the month—the day on which the particular month’s quality is at its most manifest and luminous[5]—declines with the moon’s decline, and is reborn with its rebirth.
Jewish time is lunar time, for the Jews are the moon of creation. Jewish history belongs exclusively to the lunar element of reality: it is a history of ascents and declines, of seemingly utter defeats followed by glorious renewals. It is a saga that defies all laws of nature and all rules of history—in which every “time-tested truth” is wrenched from its moorings and turned inside out.
Haman believed that he could destroy this invincible nation by emphasizing the solar element of reality. These people are an anomaly, said he, a deviant life-form that can survive only in the lunacy of lunar time. Bring out the sun and they will disappear from the face of the earth. The laws of nature simply do not allow for a “distinct and singular people”[6] to remain so while “dispersed and divided among the nations”[7]; the laws of history dictate that a nation divested of its homeland and cultural heart cannot survive for long.
So Haman sought to first establish the date of Israel’s annihilation within the week, to stake his claim within the framework of solar time. Only then, he felt, did he stand a chance to challenge them on their “home turf” of lunar time, and select the month and the day of the month of their destruction.
A Higher Sun
Haman must have been surprised by the results of his lotteries. As the Midrash relates, his casting of lots in regard to the days of the week failed to produce any day that boded evil for the Jewish people. On the other hand, in his second lottery, the month of Adar came up as a time of apparent misfortune for Israel (though, in the final analysis, the very sign Haman took to spell Israel’s downfall was actually the secret of their salvation).[8] His probing of the solar reality, where he felt most certain of success, proved unfruitful, while the lunar reality, where Israel reigns supreme, gave him an opening.
In truth, however, the only plane on which Haman could challenge the people of Israel was on the lunar level. Here he could hope to catch them on the downside of their ever-oscillating cycle of fortune. On the solar level, his plans were doomed to failure from the start.
What Haman failed to realize was that there is a higher sun than the sun he knew, a higher law of reality than the laws of nature and history. A law that decrees that “No matter what, they are My children”[9]; that “It is impossible for Me to exchange them for another people.”[10] That beyond the vacillations of our lunar journey through time lies a solar constant that supersedes all solar constants: the eternal and immutable bond between G-d and His people.
Based on a letter by the Rebbe dated “Shushan Purim, 5706” (1946)[11]. By Yanki Tauber.
_______________________
[1]. Esther 3:7; Rashi, ibid.; Targum Sheini, ibid.; Midrash Rabbah, Esther 7:13.
[4]. Talmud, Sukkah 29a; ibid., Sanhedrin 42a; Zohar, part I, 236b.
[5]. E.g., Passover (15th of Nissan), Sukkot (Tishrei 15), the 15th of Shevat, the 15th of Av, and—of course—Purim (Adar 14–15).
[8]. Midrash Rabbah, Esther 7:13.
[9]. Talmud, Kiddushin 36a; et al.
[10]. Midrash Rabbah, Ruth, introduction section 3.
[11] Igrot Kodesh, vol. II, pp. 105-106.
Tags: Haman, purim, Calendar, Yanki Tauber, moon, sun
Posted in Purim, Months & Holidays, Personal Life, Nature, Spiritual, Adar, Torah | No Comments »
July 21st, 2015
Chassidic master Rabbi DovBer of Mezeritch (d. 1772) was once visited by a prestigious rabbi who was amazed at the poverty he encountered in Rabbi DovBer’s home. Remarking on the simple wooden basin out of which Rabbi DovBer washed his hands, he exclaimed: “Rabbi, why must a man of your stature lead such a frugal existence? At my home, we wash our hands with a silver chalice!”
“And what is the source of your wealth?” asked the Chassidic leader.
“Rabbi,” replied the visitor, “I don’t sit secluded in a small hamlet, as you do. I travel extensively, visiting the capitals and commercial centers of Europe. Our wealthy brethren who reside there contribute generously to my institutions and my living expenses.”
Said Rabbi DovBer: “Why should I travel to faraway lands so that a silver chalice should sit in my home? I prefer that the silver should remain in a foreign capital, while I live at home.”
Adapted from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
Tags: money, Chassidic stories, Maggid of Mezerich, wealth, Yanki Tauber, Rebbe, home
Posted in Shmot, Personal Life, Mishpatim, Torah, Business, Work & Money | No Comments »
July 21st, 2015
“A blessing is like rain,” Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov taught. When rain is preceded by plowing and sowing, and followed with reaping and harvesting, it yields abundant fruit; otherwise, it achieves nothing. Likewise, a person can be granted the greatest gifts from Above, but unless he makes himself a fit vessel to receive them, unless he learns to appreciate and utilized them properly, they are but futile rain on a barren field.
Chassidim would illustrate this point with the following story:
A king once decided to reward a peasant who had done him a great service. “Shall I give him a sack of gold? a bag of pearls?” thought the king. “But these mean virtually nothing to me. I want, for once, to truly give something—something that I will miss, a gift that constitutes a sacrifice for me.”
Now this king had a nightingale who sang the sweetest songs a human ear had ever heard. He treasured the nightingale over all else, and literally found life unbearable without it. So he summoned the peasant to his palace and gave him the bird . “This,” said the king, “is in appreciation for your loyalty and devotion.” “Thank you, Your Majesty,” said the peasant, and took the royal gift to his humble home.
A while later, the king was passing through the peasant’s village and commanded his coachman to halt at the peasant’s door. “How are you enjoying my gift?” he inquired of his beloved subject.
“The truth to tell, Your Majesty,” said the peasant, “the bird’s meat was quite tough—all but inedible, in fact. But I cooked it with lots of potatoes, and it gave the stew an interesting flavor.”
Adapted from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
Tags: Baal Shem Tov, rain, appreciation, G-d's love, blessings, Yanki Tauber, Parable, Rebbe
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Shmot, Beliefs & Concepts, Personal Life, Mishpatim, Torah, Business, Work & Money | No Comments »
July 21st, 2015
Dear Editor,
In The Fifty-Sixth Century (WIR, vol. IX, no. 5) you make the point that the explosion of knowledge—both secular and religious—that we have seen in the past 300 years is a prelude (“foretaste” is the word you use) to the messianic era.
It is true that Maimonides describes the messianic age as a time when “wisdom and knowledge will proliferate” (Mishneh Torah, Laws of Repentance 9:2). But he also describes it as a time “when there will be no hunger, no war, no jealousy and no competitiveness; for the good shall be in great abundance, and all delicacies available as the dust” (ibid., Laws of Kings 12:5).
Well, we are certainly seeing an unprecedented abundance of material wealth. But is this making us less greedy, less jealous and less competitive? Is there less hunger in the world? Fewer wars?
Are there any “foretastes” that you can point to in these areas?
Joe Kazenofski
Cleveland, Ohio
Dear Joe,
In a recent article (“The Digital Bubble,” The New Yorker, January 19, 1998), Kurt Andersen marvels over the fact that, “a year ago, I spent fifteen or twenty dollars a week at the newsstands for the Washington Post, the New York Post, the News, and the Times. Why do the publishers of all those papers (and of magazines) now let me read them free, on the Web? … Why do network-news divisions spend tens of millions of dollars a year on Web sites that generate a pittance in advertising revenue?”
His conversations with leading information providers on the Internet lead Mr. Andersen to conclude that they are motivated by a “confused mixture of vanity and panic … they’re giving the product away not to maintain market share or to crush a competitor across the street but because—well, it’s new, and, you know, everybody else is doing it. It’s strange: in this era of unsentimental hypercapitalism, wishfulness and peer-group pressure rule.” The Internet, according to Mr. Andersen, is a “financial mania, a bubble,” a result of “this improbable accident of history—giddy journalists and giddy money managers enthralled at the same moment by the same new gadgetry.”
It is the vanguard of a new age, the Age of Knowledge, which will redefine our very notions of ambition, power, and personal gain.
I beg to differ. The phenomenon Mr. Andersen describes is indeed an amazing one, marking a radical departure from the way that “market forces” have shaped our lives until now. But it is not a passing mania, a bubble on the brink of bursting. It is the vanguard of a new age, the Age of Knowledge, which will redefine our very notions of ambition, power, and personal gain.
For thousands of years, achievement has been defined in material terms: money, territory, access to the earth’s physical resources. Men and nations competed for these things, for they were the ultimate measure of success and the ultimate underpinnings of power.
The physical world is finite: there is a limited amount of gold, fresh water and arable land on our planet. Having more of these things means that someone else will have less. Historically, then, Maimonides’ ignoble foursome—hunger, war, jealously and competitiveness—have gone hand-in-hand. Men and nations competed over our earth’s physical resources; because these resources are limited, they were jealous of each other’s gains; their jealousy begot conflict and wars (waged with troops and weaponry, or with financial clout and market strategies), with the spoils going to the victor and the loser suffering hunger and want.
Today, however, material wealth is being replaced by another standard of achievement: knowledge. Increasingly, power is becoming equated with information and know-how, rather than with territory or financial assets. And the thing about knowledge is that when you share it with others, you do not deplete your own reserves. On the contrary: you enhance your knowledge by applying it to the diverse circumstances of those with whom you share it, and you establish yourself as a “source” and “authority” in your particular field of expertise. In the Age of Knowledge, the more you give, the more you grow.
This is what all those companies and publishing houses are doing when they are “giving away the product.” No, they have not become less greedy, less hungry for achievement. But they are recognizing that the rules of the game are changing; that as knowledge replaces money as the currency of power, the way to compete is by establishing yourself as a provider of knowledge, rather than by ringing up more sales and amassing more cash.
So even before the proliferation of knowledge will bring about the profound changes in human nature that characterize the messianic era—even while greed and personal gain still hold sway as the forces that drive much of human life—we’ll be seeing a lot more sharing and giving, and a lot less jealousy, conflict and want.
Yanki Tauber
Tags: Jealousy, Yanki Tauber, Messiah, hunger, knowledge, war, media
Posted in Beliefs & Concepts, Personal Life, Moshiach & Redemption, Torah, Business, Work & Money | No Comments »
July 21st, 2015
In Radin, Lithuania, hometown of the famed “Chofetz Chaim” (Rabbi Israel Meir Kagan, 1838-1933), there lived a G-d-fearing man who was an accomplished Torah scholar as well as a successful businessman. His children, too, were wealthy men, but they had departed from the ways of their father to assume a more “modern” and secular lifestyle.
The father was a great admirer of the Chofetz Chaim and consulted with him on everything he did. One day, he came to the Rabbi to show him the will he had drawn up, in which he bequeathed his money to his children and his extensive library of sefarim (Torah books) to the local yeshivah.
The Chofetz Chaim smiled and said: “Your children do not lack for money. But if there were more sefarim in their homes, perhaps their lives would be more in keeping with the ways of the Torah. The yeshivah, on the other hand, has walls and walls of books, but is in dire need of funds to pay its teachers and feed its students. Your estate would be put to far better use if you gave each party what it truly needed….”
Adapted from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
Tags: Rebbe, Chofetz Chaim, Yanki Tauber, Books of Torah
Posted in Personal Life, Social, Education | No Comments »
July 20th, 2015
A once-wealthy chassid who had lost his entire fortune came to see Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi. “If G-d has chosen to afflict me with poverty,” he wept, “I accept the Divine judgement. But how can I be reconciled with the fact that I cannot repay my debts? That I am unable to meet the dowry I promised for my daughter’s upcoming marriage? Never have I reneged on my commitments. Why is the Almighty doing this to me? , Why is He causing me such terrible humiliation?
“Rebbe!” cried the chassid, “I must repay my debts! I must give what I have promised for my daughter!”
Rabbi Schneur Zalman sat with his head in his arms in a state of d’veikut(meditative attachment to G-d). In this manner he listened to the chassid’s tearful pleas. After a long while, Rabbi Schneur Zalman lifted his head and said with great feeling: “You seem much preoccupied with what you need. Why aren’t you as concerned over what it is that you are needed for…?”
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
Tags: money, Alter Rebbe, responsibility, Chassidic stories, Yanki Tauber
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Bamidbar, Shelach, Personal Life, Torah, Business, Work & Money | No Comments »
July 20th, 2015
There was a Chassid who, whenever he was approached with the request for a donation for charity, would stick his hand into his pocket and take out a few coins; then, with a hastily mumbled “just a minute…,” he would again dig into his pocket and come up with another few coins.
Someone who noticed his custom once asked him: “Why do you always give in two installments? Could you not take out the full sum you want to give at once?”
Replied the Chassid: “Every act of charity is a victory over our selfish natures. I just can’t resist the opportunity to score two such victories for the price of one!”
Modern behavioral psychology often echoes this Chassidic approach to impulse control and self-mastery. In an era engineered to exploit our immediate desires, resisting temptation is rarely a single, isolated battle; it requires continuous, conscious victories over environments specifically designed to hijack our attention.
Today’s digital landscape presents an unprecedented array of behavioral traps that require this exact kind of repeated resistance. Whether an individual is trying to break the habit of doom-scrolling through endless social media feeds, close a targeted promotion for the best internet casino, or step away from algorithm-recommended video streams, the initial urge to indulge is almost always followed by a second, stronger wave of rationalization.
Conquering these modern distractions demands the same dual-effort the Chassid applied to his generosity. By actively choosing to redirect our attention—and then consciously reinforcing that choice a moment later when the craving inevitably spikes again—we train ourselves to score multiple victories over our own habitual impulses.
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
Tags: money, charity, Chassidic stories, Yanki Tauber
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Bamidbar, Shelach, Personal Life, Torah, Business, Work & Money | No Comments »
July 20th, 2015
by Dovi Scheiner
Haman[1] was in high spirits as he exited the palace gates. His hateful plot, calling for the destruction of the Jewish people, had just received the endorsement of King Ahasuerus.
In the distance, Haman spotted his arch-enemy Mordechai, who had encountered three young Jewish students as they were returning home from school and had paused to engage them in conversation. Haman edged closer to overhear their discussion.
“What did you learn in school today?” Mordechai questioned the children. The first child replied, “Do not fear sudden terror, nor the destruction by the wicked when it comes.”[2] The second child responded, “Contrive a scheme, but it will be foiled; conspire a plot, but it will not materialize, for G-d is with us.”[3] “To your old age I am [with you]; to your hoary years I will sustain you; I have made you, and I will carry you; I will sustain you and deliver you,”[4] answered the third child.
Hearing the childrens’ replies, Mordechai’s heart brimmed with joy. Unable to contain himself, Haman approached Mordechai demanding that he explain the sudden improvement in his mood. Mordechai responded, “I rejoice in the good news the children have brought me, that I should not fear the evil plot you have conspired against my people.” Haman became enraged, vowing that when his plot materialized, he would strike the children first!
Haman’s plot imperiled the fate of the entire Jewish people. In this extreme period of crises, the eyes of every Jew focused on their leader Mordechai, wondering what his response would be. Remarkably, upon becoming aware of this grave threat, Mordechai’s first act was to engage a number of school children in conversation. What did Mordechai hope to glean from the children and what was it about their message that reassured him?
The hearts of the children that Mordechai encountered were full with faith. Their comments reveal their reliance upon G-d in dealing with three kinds of struggles. The first child speaks of faith in its simplest form, when faced with devastation and destruction. When “the destruction by the wicked comes” and all hope seems lost, G-d may still be found. Our faith in His underlying beneficence and compassion helps us withstand our most painful struggles. The second child has faith that “the plots of our enemies will not materialize.” He expresses the belief that G-d is at all times working for our protection, even where we are unmindful of impending danger. The third child shows faith in the face of the seemingly inescapable frailties accompanying “old age.” As nature takes its course, we trust that G-d is “with us,” to help “sustain and deliver us.”
So how do you take the pulse of a people? You speak with the children!
Faith forms the foundation of our people. Through our faith we connect with G-d and in the merit of our faith we are afforded Divine protection. Mordechai appreciated that when our faith is firm we are invincible and that when our faith falters we become vulnerable. He knew that the people had compromised their relationship with G-d, when they bowed before a “statue of gold”[5] erected by King Nebuchadnezzar, whose reign preceded that of Ahasuerus by some thirty years.[6] Mordechai wandered the streets of Shushan in search of a definitive sign, a clue to clarify the true standing of the ongoing relationship between the Jewish people and G-d. He knew that the fate of the Jewish people now, as always, relied upon the state of their faith and dedication to G-d.
Mordechai wandered and he wondered, but when he encountered the young students returning home from school, he wondered no more. As Mordechai experienced the unblemished faith held by these children, he knew that the heart of the nation was in the right place, or, if not yet, that it would soon be. In so eloquently expressing their unbending faith in the deliverance of the A-mighty, in the face of oppression both potential and actual, the children reassured Mordechai that the soul of the people stood steadfast and secure. In the event that the elders could not match the intensity of these youngsters, the children could be counted on to fan the flames of faith.
So how do you take the pulse of a people? You speak with the children! In the running of a nation, the youth comprise the engine. If we teach our children to fear none other than Almighty G-d, then they will in turn inspire us to truly connect with the very values we preach. In the merit of the pure faith of our children, our people will forever stand secure, as we read in Psalms, “Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings You have established strength, because of Your enemies, to silence foe and avenger.”[7] Now more than ever, this is a lesson we cannot afford to overlook… our “homeland security” depends on it!
Adapted from a talk of the Rebbe, Purim 5726[8].
By Dovi Scheiner. Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber.
[1] Midrash, Esther, 7/17
[6] Tractate Megilla, 12a
[8] Likkutei Sichos Vol. 21, Pages # 206-213.)
Tags: purim, Trust in G-d, Dovi Scheiner, children, faith, Haman
Posted in Purim, Months & Holidays, Personal Life, Home & Family, Adar, Torah | No Comments »
