The Daily Special: The Hebrew Month of Iyar

August 19th, 2014

Each and every day the Torah should be as desirable to you as if you received it this very day at Mount Sinai.

Midrash Tanchuma, Ki Tavo 1

The mitzvot of the Torah are the means by which we sanctify our world: an object, a feeling, an occasion, become vehicles of connection to one’s Creator.

Mitzvot not only afford us the opportunity to fulfill G-d’s will (for which a Torah comprised of a single divine commandment would have sufficed), but also enable us to involve every aspect of our being in the endeavor. There are mitzvot which involve actions, and mitzvot which are fulfilled by refraining from action; mitzvot involving the mind, and mitzvot involving the heart; mitzvot pertaining to one’s home, diet, dress, family life, bereavement and business affairs. No nook or cranny of human life is without the potential to become something more, to serve a higher purpose.

The mitzvot are also distinguished by the various ways in which they intersect with our experience of time. There are perpetual mitzvot (e.g., awareness of G-d, loving one’s fellow), daily mitzvot (prayer, tefillin), seasonal mitzvot (sounding the shofar on Rosh HaShanah, eating matzah on Passover), and once-in-a-lifetime mitzvot (circumcision).  Each of these affects us in different ways: the more frequently occurring mitzvot become a fixture of our consciousness and an integral part of our daily life; the rarer mitzvot inspire a sense of specialty and uniqueness in their performance.

Best of Both Worlds

The Hebrew month of Iyar, whose 29 days fall somewhere in the months of April and May, is unique in that it combines both specialty and consistency in a single mitzvah.  The mitzvah is the commandment to “Count the Omer,” by which we annually reexperience our forefathers’ 49-day spiritual journey from the Exodus to Sinai.  Every evening, from the second night of Passover to the eve of Shavuot, we verbalize the day’s number in the count, after first reciting the blessing, “Blessed are You, G-d … Who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us concerning the Counting of the Omer.”

As a mitzvah associated with a particular time of the year, the Counting of the Omer is accompanied by the anticipation and sense of occasion that is the hallmark of the seasonal mitzvah. At the same time, for a period spanning the latter 15 days of Nissan, all of Iyar’s 29 days, and the first five days of Sivan, this yearly event becomes a fixed part of our daily schedules.

So while the other months of the year serve as the background for their special days, the month of Iyar, whose each and every day is the date for a “seasonal” mitzvah, is its special days; while in other months these occasions are spiritual peaks surrounded by a plain of ordinariness, in Iyar, the unique becomes routine.

Based on an address by the Rebbe, Nissan 24, 5719 (May 2, 1959) ¹ and on other occasions.

Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber.

 

 

Tags: mitzvot, Exodus from Egypt
Posted in Months & Holidays, Counting the Omer, Month of Iyar, Torah, Nisan, Iyar | No Comments »

The Revelation: Stories of the Baal Shem Tov

August 19th, 2014

Editor’s note: The 18th of Elul marks the birthday of the founder of the Chassidic movement, Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov (1698-1760). The following is a freely translated excerpt of Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak’s retelling of the Baal Shem Tov’s account of his own childhood and formative years. A passionate and prolific chronicler of Chassidic history and lore, the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn (1880-1950), delivered hundreds of talks and penned thousands of pages of memoirs, letters and essays in which he recounted the stories and teachings handed down from Rebbe to Rebbe beginning with the founder of Chassidism, Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov (1698-1760).

The Revelation

When I was five years old I was orphaned from both my father and mother. The last words spoken to me by my holy father before his passing were: “Yisrolik, fear nothing but G-d alone.”

I was drawn to walk in the fields and the great, deep forest near our village. After cheder I would make my way to the fields, where I would review by heart what I had learned in cheder. Often I would sleep at night in the field or the forest.

My guardians, who looked after me and several other orphan boys and girls, did not tolerate this behavior of mine of wandering in the fields and the forest, and dealt severely with me.

So passed two years. One morning, I heard the sound of a human voice in the forest. I followed the direction of the voice and came upon the figure of a Jew enveloped in tallit and tefillin, praying with a fervor such as I had never before witnessed.

I hid myself behind the trees and derived great pleasure from listening to the man’s praying. I was enthralled by the extraordinary sight, and thought to myself that this holy man must be one of the thirty-six hidden tzaddikim (righteous and saintly people) that are in the world. The tzaddik concluded his prayers, removed his tallit and tefillin, and began to read from the Book of Psalms in a melodious voice.

Following his recital of Psalms, the man spent some time in ecstatic Torah study. He then gathered his books and his tallit and tefillin and placed them in a sack, lifted the sack unto his shoulders, and set off on his way. At this point I stepped out from my hiding place and walked towards him.

When the man saw me he asked: “What is a small child doing all alone in the forest? Are you not afraid to be in the forest all by yourself?”

I answered him: “I like the field and the forest because there are no people—the great majority of whom are arrogant and dishonest. I am not afraid of anything. I am an orphan without father or mother. My father, peace be to him, said to me before his passing: ‘Yisrolik, fear nothing but G-d alone.’ So I am not afraid of anything.”

The man asked me if I was Reb Eliezer’s son. When I replied that my father was indeed called by that name, the man took a volume of Talmud—the tractate Pesachim—from his sack, and sat and studied with me for a while. I then joined him on his way, without knowing where we were going or what was the purpose of our journey.

In our wanderings, we would stop for different periods of time in various cities, towns, villages and hamlets—sometimes for a few days, sometimes for a week or longer. I never learned the man’s name. I would study with him each day. He never accepted alms from anyone, yet he fed and clothed me and looked after my needs all the time. Thus passed three years.

One day we stopped in a small settlement and the man said to me: “Not far from here, in the forest, there lives a learned and G-d-fearing Jew. I will leave you with him for a while.” He then took me to a small hut in the woods, handed me over to its resident, and was off.

I lived in Reb Meir’s hut for four years, during which time he learned with me daily with great diligence. Each day, we would go to the village for the daily prayers. None of the villagers were aware that Reb Meir was a sage and hidden tzaddik—they knew him as a simple workman, a coal-smelter.

In Reb Meir’s home I became familiar with the ways of the hidden tzaddikim and their leader, the great sage and tzaddik Rabbi Adam Baal Shem. At the conclusion of my years with Reb Meir I was accepted into the society of the hidden tzaddikim and again began journeying from town to town and from settlement to settlement on various missions which the society’s leadership placed upon me.

Before having attained sixteen full years, I had gained a significant knowledge of the teachings of Kabbalah, and would occasionally pray with the mystical meditations of the Lurianic Kabbalistic tradition, taught to me by the holy and awesome hidden tzaddik, Reb Chaim.

Aaron Shlomo the Innkeeper

On my sixteenth birthday, Elul 18, 5474 (1714), I was in a small village. The local innkeeper was a simple Jew who could barely read the prayers and was completely ignorant of the meaning of their words; yet he was an extremely devout Jew, whose custom was to say regarding everything and on every occasion: “Blessed be He for ever and ever.” His wife would constantly avow: “Praised be His holy name.”

That day, I went to meditate alone in the field in accordance with the practice instituted by the early sages to set aside time on one’s birthday for private contemplation. I secluded myself, recited chapters of Psalms, and meditated upon the unifications of the divine names as prescribed in the teachings of Kabbalah.

Thus engrossed, I was completely unaware of my surroundings. Suddenly, I beheld Elijah the Prophet standing before me, a smile on his lips. In Reb Meir’s home, and in the company of other hidden tzaddikim, I had, on occasion, merited a revelation of Elijah the Prophet, but never before on my own, so I wondered at the reason for this unexpected vision. I also could not understand the significance of the Prophet’s smile.

Elijah said to me: “You are toiling mightily, investing great effort and concentration in meditating upon the unifications of the Holy Names implicit in the verses of the Psalms compiled by David the King of Israel. On the other hand, Aaron Shlomo the innkeeper and Zlateh Rivkah the innkeeperess are completely unaware of the unifications that emerge from the utterances, ‘Blessed be He for ever and ever,’ expressed by the innkeeper, and ‘Praised be His holy name’ uttered by the innkeeperess. Yet these words resonate throughout all the worlds, causing a greater stir than the unifications configured by the greatest tzaddikim.”

Elijah the Prophet went on to explain to me the great pleasure that G-d derives from words of gratitude and praise uttered by men, women and children, especially by simple folk, and especially when done on a consistent basis, reflecting a pure faith, wholesome heart, and a state of perpetual attachment to G-d.

From that point on, I embarked upon a new method of serving G-d: to bring about the speaking of words of praise to G-d. Wherever I went, I would talk to people, inquiring after their health, their children, and their livelihood, and they would all reply with expressions of praise to the Almighty (“Thanks to G-d,” “Blessed be His Name,” and the like), each after his or her manner.

For many years I pursued this practice. At a conference of the fellowship of hidden tzaddikim it was resolved to adopt this method of divine service, which in turn became the beginning of an approach which stressed the importance of brotherly love toward every Jew, regardless of his or her degree of Torah knowledge or spiritual attainment.[1]

—–

[1] . Sefer HaSichot 5703, pp. 165-168.

Tags: Chassidic stories, Chassidic holidays, Baal Shem Tov
Posted in Baal Shem Tov, 18 Elul, Months & Holidays, Torah Personalities, Modern, Torah, Elul | 1 Comment »

Living With Faith and Hope After September 11

August 19th, 2014

Our hearts, condolences and prayers go out to all the families affected by this calamity, and to all New Yorkers, Americans and the entire human race against whom this atrocity was perpetrated.

Dear reader,

Due to the overwhelming response to Rabbi Jacobson’s previous article (see Today the World Trembles), below is a new piece written by Rabbi Jacobson with Yom Kippur’s message of hope to the world that has been shaken September 11th.

We hope that you can use these soothing thoughts both personally and to share with your families, friends and communities, especially as we enter trembling but hopeful into Yom Kippur. Because of the importance of the message, we encourage you to share this article with everyone.

We want you to know that we here at The Meaningful Life Center are working overtime to helping provide solace and clarity in these trying times. As people everywhere are undergoing a new soul search for meaning in life, we are redoubling our dedication to our mission to offering insight and direction as how we can gain control over our lives with all the uncertainty brewing around us.

If you or anyone you know has any specific needs or questions, please call on us. We are committed to do everything we can to serve you.

We need to nourish the grass roots awakening that has consumed this nation and its gravitation to faith and G-d and transform it into a permanent spiritual transformation. Our calling today is to demonstrate leadership and light up the way in which to forge ahead amidst this tragedy, and these new, challenging times.

As Rabbi Jacobson concludes, let us all join together and channel our powerful emotions into positive action. In this Hakhel year let us initiate gatherings wherever possible — to study and pray together, share kind words, give charity. Let us rebuild and reinforce the three immortal pillars upon which our world – both personal and global – stands: Torah, Prayer and Charity.

May you be blessed and sealed in the Book of Life. May we open ourselves to be true channels of G-d’s will, which will certainly empower us to win this battle of good over evil and bring permanent peace to the world.

Yom Kippur: The Birth of Hope

The King of Poros (Persia) will bring destruction to the entire world, and all the nations will be outraged and confused… and Jews will be outraged and confused, and they will say: where shall we come and go, where shall we come and go? G-d will answer them: My children, do not be afraid. Everything I have done, I have done for you. Why are you afraid? Do not fear, the time of your Redemption has arrived… (Midrash, Yalkut, Isaiah remez 499)

Never have I seen such vulnerability on people’s faces. From my home in New York City to spending Rosh Hashana in Fort Lauderdale, from a lecture in Boca Raton to spending this past Shabbat in the Upper West Side of Manhattan – uncertainty and fear covers life like a thick haze.

We have been rocked at the very core, and people are gravitating to G-d and to each other. We are looking for comfort, for words, for any thing that may give us some equilibrium and return us to our bearings.

I closed my eyes on Rosh Hashana and allowed the sound – the secret sound – of the Shofar to flow through me. Its sound made me feel secure, it gave me something firm to rest on. Its haunting cry resonated like a foghorn allowing ships to navigate in the lonely darkness of night.

As the world trembles in the aftermath of our national tragedy, Jews worldwide gather in these Days of Awe for prayer and spiritual introspection. The destiny of nations is determined in this powerful time of the year. If we allow them, these days can serve as unwavering bearings in these times of uncertainty, giving us the ability to move forward.

What message does Yom Kippur offer us in our current situation?

The answer lies in understanding the root of Yom Kippur. Here’s the story:

40 days after Moses received the two tablets inscribed with the Ten Commandments Moses descends from Mount Sinai only to see that the people have transgressed and built a Golden Calf. Moses breaks the two tablets. He then re-ascends Mt. Sinai to plead with G-d to forgive the people. For eighty day Moses begs and beseeches G-d to forgive, to open the doors of hope after loss. Finally, on the eightieth day G-d relents. That day becomes Yom Kippur: the holiest day of the year – the day that gives us the power to rebuild after destruction.

How was Moses sure that he would succeed? Because he knew the ‘secret’ of G-d: that there is always an opening; that G-d is not bound by His own existential rules of cause and effect, and we have the ability to transcend the forward flow of time itself and grow through a broken past. On Yom Kippur, Moses unleashed the power of teshuvah and introduced a new force into our mortal existence, revealing that nothing can destroy the human spirit. That when we persist and insist we can break down every door, and achieve anything we want. That we can and will bring redemption to the world – when good will conquer evil.

And this power of rebirth is even greater than the initial birth. It took Moses 40 days to receive the Law on Mount Sinai, but 80 to convince G-d to forgive us. It takes much more effort to rebuild after being broken than to build in the first place. But when we finally prevail, it creates a new structure that can never be broken again.

Moses returned on Yom Kippur with a new, second set of tablets, that in many ways are greater than the first. The second tablets come from the depths of pain and demonstrate hope after loss and the good that is greater than the evil. These tablets therefore have the power of eternity being that they can endure and last even through destruction, reminding us that we grow much greater through our pain.

Is there a more relevant message than this today?

The building and worship of a false god of gold (the Golden Calf) was a replay of the sin of eating from the Tree of Knowledge of good and evil. When we dedicate our lives to G-d, then even our material lives are tools to access and express the Divine. However when we create a god in our own image, and we worship ourselves and our man-made gods, we expel G-d from our lives and in its place selfishness and evil emerge. As a result of this selfish evil being reintroduced into the world, Moses shattered the two tablets.

The question then arises: Can we repair them? Can we rebuild after we have been destroyed? And most importantly, how can we rebuild? How do we find the fortitude and power to forge ahead, to fight our enemies and win, to rebuild a better world?

Yom Kippur gives us the unequivocal answer that, yes, we can repair and rebuild. And yes, we can grow and become even greater. And Yom Kippur also tells us how we can achieve all of this. By connecting to G-d, to Immortality.

Yom Kippur is the holiest day of the year because it is the birthday of the single most important ingredient in life: HOPE. That there is healing after loss, that there is hope after destruction. That even after great loss we can rebuild. And rebuild in ways that are greater and stronger than ever before.

This is the ultimate message that we have to share with the world: As we now face a revealed evil that has struck humanity, as we enter our final battle between good and evil – a battle that began with the Tree of Knowledge and extended through the worship of the Golden Calf, and now again tragically resurfaced in this atrocity – we carry the message of Yom Kippur: good can and will prevail.

Yom Kippur – and its second set of tablets – gives us the greatest gift: the absolute confidence and faith that we can overcome any challenge.

As we stand stripped of our security blankets and seeing ourselves naked as we may have never seen ourselves before, we must reach into our deepest resource that always remains burning within: Our faith in G-d, our faith in life, our hope.

Yes, it is quite distressing and disorienting to have our comfort zones taken from us, even more disturbing may be the unknown of what lies within us, when all else is taken from us. Yom Kippur tells us that what lies within is grand, magnificent and extraordinary. It is the REAL YOU. The Divine Image in which you were created, that has the power of the eternal.

What better time to have Yom Kippur with us – the birth of hope.

Let us read, reread and embrace the words of this past week’s Torah portion (of Shabbat Shuva):

Be strong and brave. Do not be afraid or feel insecure before them [your enemies], because G-d is the One who is going with you, and He will not fail you or forsake you (Deuteronomy 31:6).

How amazing that these words – without any interpretation – speak directly to our situation today, as if they were just written! It seems that when our veneer is stripped away, our emerging truth is Biblical…

What Can We Do?

One thing that has changed on September 11^th: We are no longer complacent or apathetic. Our tragedy has stirred us and awakened an array of feelings and emotions: Grief. Sadness. Fear. Anger. Vengeance. Uncertainty. Insecurity. Depression. And many other sensations.

If we do nothing with these feelings they implode within us. They tie us up and paralyze us. What then should we do with these powerful feelings?

Yes, it’s important to express ourselves, to release and free ourselves of negative feelings. Yet, that is at best damage control. There must be something more we can do with these strong emotions.

Yom Kippur answers this question for us: After the people had inexcusably transgressed and after the tablets were irreversibly broken, Moses unperturbed passionately fought for hope after loss. He adamantly insisted that goodness will triumph. Moses was angry, shocked and profoundly disturbed to see his people worshiping an idol, blatantly transgressing the second commandment merely 40 days after hearing it directly from God. Yet, he took all his feelings, channeled them and charged up that mountain confronting G-d for 80 days to forgive, to open a door, to allow for rebirth.

We must do the same: we must channel our potent reactions into a force for good. Especially after we have witnessed the vehement passion of madmen, our commitment to goodness and love has to be with at least as much passion as the horror waged against us.

Nothing less than a passionate, spiritual revolution of good will justify this terror…

Just as we have been stunned to see how the world that we know can change so dramatically in a matter of minutes, we must recognize that we can equally introduce a new paradigm for life – one in which selflessness prevails over selfishness, love over hate, spirit over matter, good over evil.

And we will need to hold onto this revolution: As time passes and our complacency slowly returns, we must never let go of the window of opportunity that has now opened. We must always remember our absolute commitment to fight for good and against evil. We must always maintain the resolve and confidence that Moses infused us with on Yom Kippur: Good is more powerful than evil. Good will prevail. We can do it. Nothing stands in our way except… ourselves.

A Practical Suggestion

Following the Torah’s statement (cited above) “Be strong and brave. Do not be afraid or feel insecure…because G-d is the One who is going with you, and He will not fail you or forsake you,” comes the mitzvah (commandment) of Hakhel:

At the end of each seven years, on the festival of Sukkot…gather together the people, the men, women, children…so that they hear and learn it [Torah], and they will thus be in awe of G-d, carefully keeping all of the words of Torah. And your children who do not know will listen and learn to be in awe of G-d as long as you live…(Deuteronomy 31:10-13)

This new year, which began on Rosh Hashanah, is a Hakhel year (the end of the seven year period). In previous Hakhel years, the Lubavitcher Rebbe called on us to maintain this beautiful tradition by initiating gatherings (hakhel’s) throughout the year – in our homes, offices and communities, gathering together in unity to study and to connect with G-d and our purpose in life.

As we enter now into the year of Hakhel, and as Sukkot approaches, what better way to channel our strong responses to the assault on our humanity than gathering together in small or large groups to talk, to sing, to pray – to join in one unifying voice, each of us with our own unique musical note, and connect with our higher Divine calling – our mission of spreading goodness and kindness.

It doesn’t take much. Gather a few friends any evening in your home or office, share spiritual thoughts, study G-d’s word, pray and give charity. Commit together to reinforcing the three pillars which hold up the world – Torah, prayer and charity.

Do the same with family, and include your children. Let’s make this a habit, and institute it in a timely fashion, once a week or so. Each group member can alternate as host. Invite in new friends or strangers.

For every force of evil there is an equal and even greater force of good. When we fear evil conspiracies – awful people gathering to perpetrate terrible acts – we must congregate together with even more passion to recommit to our battle for justice and virtue.

If all of us begin congregating and encouraging others to do the same, we can create a massive ripple effect of unity and goodwill, uniting people everywhere in one powerful wave of positive and G-dly energy. And this is what we can do to bring the Redemption to our wounded world.

How fascinating it is that following this tragedy people everywhere, of all ages and backgrounds, naturally gravitated toward faith and G-d. This was not planned or initiated by religious leaders. It is a grass roots awakening, that actually surpasses in power anything our religious establishments have to offer us.

We need to nourish the awakening that has consumed this nation and its gravitation to faith and G-d, and direct it into a spiritual revolution of permanent transformation.

The Torah tells us that “G-d has not found a vessel that can contain blessing except for Shalom (peace).” As Yom Kippur approaches, let us begin by participating and inviting others to participate in upcoming Yom Kippur services. Throughout the upcoming year let us resolve now to join together in unified hakhel’s that create an unprecedented amount of light, more powerful than any opposing force, a unity that manifests the greatest blessing of all: Shalom, peace and wholesomeness for all people – peace in Israel, peace in America and peace in the entire world.

When we see the destruction brought by that part of the world, we must know, as the Midrash tells us, that we should not fear, “the time of your redemption has arrived” (Yalkut Shemoni, Isaiah remez 499. See Zohar II 32a). We are on the verge of a spiritual revolution – not an apocalypse or Armageddon – a transformation from within, a major shift in our perception, that instead of seeing materialism as an end in itself we will see it as a means to G-dliness.

In these days the fate of nations is determined, as we said in the Rosh Hashana prayers. May G-d bless us with the strength to be true channels of G-d’s will and then we will certainly win this battle of good over evil.

Let us embrace our faith, our souls, our mitzvahs. And like foghorns in the night they will lead us to the bright shining shore.

 

Tags: Hakhel, terrorism, faith, hope
Posted in Tishrei, Months & Holidays, Yom Kippur, Social, Torah, September 11th, Current Events | No Comments »

Virtual Reality: 12 Tammuz

August 19th, 2014

There is a fashion in language as in almost everything else. One of the “in” phrases today is “Be Realistic!” Whether used as an exhortation, admonition or as gentle chiding, it is usually prompted by exasperation that the person to whom the remark is directed refuses to “see reason.” “Reason” in this case being that he refuses to forgo time honored values and traditions that have stood the test of time in exchange for the transient modes and mores of the moment. He is “old fashioned” because he refuses to swim with the tide, or irrational to cling to ideas and ideals which were given long ago and do not conform with “modern” trends.  Another aspect of this call for realism is the argument that even if might is not right one cannot buck the establishment or “fight City Hall.” So, for instance, Israel, which is so dependant on the USA and others, must temper its actions accordingly, even though it may not be in its best interests.

What is a realist? A wit once defined a realist as “an optimist with experience.” This description may not be as cynical as it at first seems.

A valuable lesson in realism may be learned from the events which led up to the Chassidic Festival of Yud Beis Tammuz which we celebrate this week. The facts are well documented, not least of all in the lucid account from the prolific pen of the Previous Rebbe himself. Briefly stated they are that in 1927 the Soviet authorities, keen to stamp out Judaism in the USSR, arrested the Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchok Schneersohn, on trumped up charges of activities against the State, intending to sentence him to death. Paradoxically, those who arrested him paid the greatest testimony to his stature. Intent on promoting a G-dless society and destroying the paraphernalia of observance, they saw in the previous Rebbe, and the followers he led and inspired, the greatest threat to their designs. Remove the Rebbe, they reasoned, and the organized promotion and observance of Judaism would end. The mighty Soviet machine that had toppled the great Czarist regime was afraid of this one great Jew and the influence he wielded.

Incarcerated under unspeakable conditions, tortured physically and mentally, the Previous Rebbe had to face a final interrogation by a committee of three who would decide his sentence. Ushered into a long room at the end of which sat his inquisitors, the Rebbe, physically abused and suffering injuries from which he never fully recovered, walked slowly towards them. Unbowed, he initiated the conversation by saying: “This is the first time that I recall entering a room without people standing up!” One of the interrogators jumped up, shouting remonstratively: “Quiet! Do you know where you are?” Still walking towards him, the Rebbe replied: “Yes! I am in a room which according to Jewish Law does not require a Mezuzah: a stable or a bathroom.”

The end of that chapter of the story was that the Rebbe was sentenced to death. Due to outcry by Governments abroad, the sentence was first commuted to exile, and, shortly afterwards, the Rebbe was freed.

Realistically, was the Previous Rebbe’s attitude not foolhardy? He knew that, on the face of it, these three men held his life in their hands. Would it not have been better to be more conciliatory? To, perhaps, compromise a little? Not to buck the establishment? To live to fight another day?

Now, over 70 years later, with 20/20 hindsight, one may evaluate and answer these questions.

The Previous Rebbe was a realist: an optimist with experience.

His optimism lay in his bitochen[1]. He had perfect faith. In his own words on a previous occasion, he had “but one G-d and two worlds [this and the world to come] “ and could not be intimidated by those “who had many gods and but one world.”  And his experience told him that one could not cede compromises or do deals with those who seek to eliminate you. By doing so one only helps fulfill their agenda: one becomes their agent in destroying what they seek to destroy. His experience also told him that in the preceding millennia, empires greater than the USSR had sought to wipe out the Jewish Nation and had failed: they had perished and the Jewish People had survived.

One chapter ended but the story continued. The Previous Rebbe left Soviet Russia soon after this, but his Chassidim, under pain of death, continued his work and kept the flame of Yiddishkeit there alight and alive. The Rebbe moved first to Riga and then to Warsaw where he experienced the horrors of the Nazi onslaught. Finally, he moved to the USA where he regrouped. He, and later his son-in-law and successor, enthused and inspired thousands of young men and women, many from secular and assimilated backgrounds, with their vision, purpose and leadership to help revitalize the Jewish condition throughout the world following the Second World War and the holocaust.

The USSR has disintegrated but the teaching and practice of Judaism there is once again thriving. On the foundations laid by his predecessor, the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, has built an empire that continues to grow, reaching out to tens of thousands of Jews worldwide. It is truly an “Empire on which the sun never sets”, an empire built not on fear and force but on love and enlightenment, not on compromise but on compassion.

In doing so, a new word has been added to the English language and to the lexicon of the world: Outreach. Translated into as many languages as exist, it connotes love, sacrifice of self, kindness and caring.

Unfortunately, though, even with perfect hindsight, there are those who still do not perceive the picture clearly. They are constantly looking over their shoulders to see what “the world” is saying. They are unable to discern the difference between what is real and what is ephemeral, fantasy or fad. Compare this with the Torah perspective, the Rebbe’s perspective: Look straight ahead, keep our eyes firmly on the road leading to the ultimate goal, never deviating to the left or right. Then, it is attainable and imminent. Which way is right? Examine the facts! Be realistic!

By BenTzion Rader.

________________

Tags: Rebbe, Frierdiker Rebbe, Chassidic holidays, Russia, Outreach
Posted in 12 Tammuz, Months & Holidays, Modern, Torah Personalities, Torah, Rebbe Rayatz, Tammuz | No Comments »

Gimmel Tammuz: The Silent Sun

August 19th, 2014

How powerful is the sun?

Do you ever find yourself basking in the sun and thinking that the same sun is shining on and warming billions of other people? You may be sunbathing on your porch or in some far flung corner of Earth, while someone thousands of miles away – or even an astronaut millions of miles into space – is staring at that very same ball of light. Even after the sun sets, this very sphere will continue to bring light to people on the other side of the planet.

One sun – touching and affecting so many different people, each in their own personal way. As one person lays tanning on the beach, another is ruminating over a beautiful sunrise or staring at a mesmerizing sunset, while yet another is warming his shower or powering an appliance by tapping the sun for its solar energy.

Indeed, the same sun which sustains life in one place, especially on a cold desolate morning on the frozen tundra, can be the source of misery and even death in the scorching heat of the Sahara Desert.

Rarely do we find one luminary simultaneously affecting so many different entities, in so many different ways.

No wonder some primitive peoples worshipped the sun. And for one fleeting moment even Abraham considered the sun as a deity until realizing that the sun is just another part of creation.

In truth, there is only one G-d, Who created the sun, the earth and all of existence. Yet, even as a creation the sun serves as a metaphor for the divine: “Shemesh u’mogen Hashem Elokim,” the sun and a shield is the revelation of G-dliness (Havaya) manifesting, through the filter and shield (of Elokim), in existence.

Interestingly, Moses – the quintessential leader – is also compared to the sun: “the face of Moses is like the face of the sun,” meaning that due to his utter and absolute selflessness he is able to mirror the Divine sun.

The sun, therefore, offers us many lessons in life. It helps us understand G-d and His divine secrets (the sun and the shield), as well as appreciate the nature of true leaders like Moses (who is “like the face of the sun”).

Simply put: The sun that shines on every one of us, wherever we may be and whatever we may be doing, teaches us how divine energy animates each of us. It also demonstrates for us the role of a true leader – one who selflessly serves as a shining role model of what it means to be a man of G-d. A leader who, like the sun, illuminates and warms each one of our souls, motivating and igniting our spark to live up to the divine image in which each of us was created. Instead of being self-centric, driven by our own short-sighed self-interests, we should be G-d-centric, dedicated to serving others with love. To be givers instead of just takers.

But what happens when that sun stops shining? After ceaselessly casting its light on existence, faithfully serving day in and day out as a source of energy and warmth, one day this sun suddenly falls silent, stopping in its tracks. What to do then?

This is what happened on Gimmel Tammuz, the third day in the Hebrew month of Tammuz, when the sun stopped not once, but twice.

Personally, I find it difficult to speak about Gimmel Tammuz, more than twenty years when the soul of my Rebbe, our Rebbe, stopped shining through his body, when the sun ceased radiating through its shield, illuminating everyone and anyone, the way it did for 92 years, since his birth in 1902.

This difficulty is not merely an emotional one, due to the physical loss of someone that can be considered closer than a parent. The primary difficulty for me is the sad reality that mortality can and has impacted the immortal. You see for me the Rebbe, even as I knew and recognized him soul within body, represents the immortal Torah. I for one am repulsed by the idea of worshipping any human being. Judaism categorically and unequivocally rejects that notion. If I am going to worship a mortal, I might as well worship myself. Long ago G-d declared “you are my servants not the servants of my servants.” My relationship with the Rebbe was not to the person; but to the non-person. Not to his body but to his soul: To the divine sun that emanated through his selfless life; to the immortal Torah that he embodied; to the cause he represented; to the all-pervasive divine he exuded.

Of course I loved the man. I loved the way he gazed at children with such adoration, recognizing their innate innocence. I loved how he smiled and empowered every person he met, every fiber of his being emanating love. How he danced on Simchat Torah and sounded the shofar on Rosh Hashana. How he laughed and cried about the sheer insanity of life. How he persistently invested thousands of hours hammering and chipping away at the complacent hearts of his listeners, drilling into them the message that you can change the world – now. How he unceasingly waged war against apathy, even as his audiences were consumed by apathy. I loved and continue to love the man because his “human” self was completely aligned with his “divine” self. But the total dedication to the Rebbe was not to the “man” but to the divine cause he manifest.

Indeed, the Rebbe’s predecessor and founder of the Chabad Chassidus, Rabbi Schneur Zalman known as the Alter Rebbe, writes in a consolation letter published in Tanya (Iggeret HaKodesh epistle 27), that the true life of a Tzaddik is not one of flesh, but one of spirit – his awe, faith and love of the divine.

That is a remarkable statement. Imagine, a person whose life is not his beating heart, blood flowing through his veins, mind and central nervous system, but his faith! A man driven not by biological life but by spiritual life.

What is even more extraordinary is that this spirit manifests in a human body, who looks, talks and acts like the rest of us, yet his life is pulsating with love and awe of G-d.

There were certainly people who connected to the charisma and physical presence of the Rebbe. But this writer always connected to the spirit of the Rebbe. And therefore the very disconnect that happened on Gimmel Tammuz – calling the day by its date is perfect for dissonance and ambiguity – is difficult for me to speak about. How does one speak of mortality and immortality in one breath?

So when I see various attempts at commemorating the “20th anniversary” of Gimmel Tammuz – with no disrespect to anyone – I simply don’t relate. I understand that everyone is trying to honor the Rebbe. But how do you mark a day like this? Every person is entitled to their way of honoring this day. Indeed, the Rebbe’s brilliance, like the sun, meant something unique to anyone he touched. I am simply articulating about my own personal and subjective reaction.

I say this also as an answer to many questions I have received whether I am writing a book or doing some other special activity in connection with Gimmel Tammuz. I simply have nothing to say – except a call to action: That the best way to connect to the Rebbe is to connect to his core essence – his teachings and life lessons, in which he poured and engraved his soul. That lives on and is indeed immortal.

Actually, if I were to say anything I would repeat what I wrote in my epilogue to Toward a Meaningful Life.

On a Personal Note:
I initially titled this book Reality because, for myself, “reality” is the one word that embodies the Rebbe. And the Rebbe is, in one word, reality. When speaking to, listening to, or reading the words of the Rebbe, I — like most people — became transfixed by something that was truly real. No superficiality, no vanity, no gossip. There was a constant sense of urgency, a sense that actions truly matter, that people really matter — that you and I, and everything we do, is of vital importance. And in a climate of cynicism and selfishness, it was more than revitalizing to experience a taste of such reality.

I believe that beneath the surface, many of us are just plain complacent. The pressures of society have convinced us that any one person hardly matters — that we will live and die and, ultimately, the world will remain unchanged. More than anything, the Rebbe taught that such an attitude is simply wrong. Like a good teacher, he communicated this through his actions as well as his words — through his ability to speak from heart to heart well into the wee morning hours; through his sensitivity to our frailties and insecurities; through his patience as a teacher in repeating an idea over and over until it was absorbed; through his unending pleas with G-d to alleviate human pain and suffering. In all these ways, the Rebbe embodied an unyielding commitment to virtue and an unwavering confidence in the human spirit. In our mercurial world, such confidence creates a security that can never be shaken; it gives a person something truly meaningful to live for.

I miss the Rebbe. I cry for the Rebbe, a true man of G-d. In my heart and mind, he still speaks for hours upon hours, his countenance shining, sharing a taste of reality with us. And I am committed to sharing the Rebbe with everyone with whom I come in contact. There is no doubt in my mind that the Rebbe and his message will prevail. Reality always does; such is its nature.

I wrote that 19 years ago. And my feelings have not changed.

Tags: Chassidic holidays, sun, Joshua, Rebbe
Posted in Gimmel Tammuz, Soul & Mystical, Great Mystics, Torah Personalities, Modern, Spiritual, Rebbe, Tammuz | 4 Comments »

Eikev: A Miracle In Our Times?

August 15th, 2014

The Islamic State (IS) (Arabic: ad-Dawlah al-Islamiyyah), also known as the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL) and the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS), is a jihadist group, widely regarded as a terrorist organisation. In its self-proclaimed status as a caliphate, it claims religious authority over all Muslims across the world and aspires to bring much of the Muslim-inhabited regions of the world under its direct political control, beginning with territory in the Levant region, which includes Jordan, Israel, Palestine, Lebanon, Cyprus, and an area in southern Turkey that includes Hatay. The group has been officially designated as a foreign terrorist organization by the United States, the European Union, the United Kingdom, Australia, Canada, Indonesia, Iran, Iraq, Syria, Israel, Lebanon, and Saudi Arabia, and has been widely described as a terrorist group by Western and Middle Eastern media sources, including Amnesty International.

Hamas (Arabic: amas, “enthusiasm”, an acronym of arakat al-Muqawamah al-Islamiyyah) is a Palestinian Sunni Islamic organization, with an associated military wing, the Izz ad-Din al-Qassam Brigades, in the Palestinian territories and elsewhere in the Middle East including Qatar. Hamas or its military wing is designated as a terrorist organization by Israel, the United States, the United Kingdom, Canada, the European Union, Jordan, Egypt, Australia, and Japan. It is not considered a terrorist organization by Iran, Russia, Turkey, China, South Africa, and many Arab nations.

Based on the principles of Islamism gaining momentum throughout the Arab world in the 1980s, Hamas was founded in 1987 (during the First Intifada) as an offshoot of the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood. Co-founder Sheik Ahmed Yassin stated in 1987, and the Hamas Charter affirmed in 1988, that Hamas was founded to liberate Palestine, including modern-day Israel, from Israeli occupation and to establish an Islamic state in the area that is now Israel, the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. Hamas opposes the recognition of Israel and is committed to its destruction. However, it stated it may accept a 10-year truce if Israel withdraws to the 1967 borders and allows Palestinian refugees from 1948, as well as their descendants, to return to what is now Israel.

Abba Eban once famously said: If Algeria introduced a resolution declaring that the earth was flat and that Israel had flattened it, it would pass by a vote of 164 to 13 with 26 abstentions.

The reason that those condemning Israel are rallying behind bombing ISIS is simply due to… anti-Semitism. In Iraq the attack is against Christians and Muslims, while in Israel the attack is against Jews.

Yes, let’s call a spade a spade: The elephant in the room, my friends, is anti-Semitism. That virulent hatred ingrained in European culture from its inception in the Christian/Roman Empire 2000 years ago.

So in such circumstances, what does the Cosmic Choreographer pull off? He orchestrates that just as Israel is under attack in so many different ways, the leader of the Western World and the most powerful country on Earth – the President of the United States – declares the need to wage war against ISIS terrorists, the close cousin of Hamas terrorists, in the name of morality and humanitarianism.

Just as His chosen land is in crisis, the Divine Hand, which directs the “heart of kings and leaders” (see Proverbs 21:1), plants the idea in our leaders minds and hearts to make a military move in Babylon, in these days following Tisha B’Av, focusing on and placing in glaring contrast the attacks in Israel to the attacks in Iraq!

Back to the Future

And if that’s not enough, consider this:

Av (this Hebrew month when the Temples were destroyed), which consists of the two Hebrew letters Alef Bet, is an acronym for Edom Bavel (so writes the Shaloh). Edom refers to the Roman Empire, which stems from Esau (Edom), the ones who destroyed the second Temple and exiled the Jewish people in this long, close to 2000-year,exile, called Galut Edom. Bavel is the Babylonian Empire, which destroyed the first Temple.

In time, the Roman Empire morphed into the Christian Kingdom (after Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity in the 4th century), and Babylon became Muslim (in the 7th century). Both the Roman/Western/Christian world and the Muslim/Arab world trace their roots to the children of Abraham – Esau and Ishmael respectively.

In a series of articles written after 9/11, I elaborated on the historical roots of today’s conflicts in the home of Abraham, and how that later evolved into the battles and holy wars in the Middle Ages, centering around Jerusalem and the Holy Land, setting the stage and leading up to today’s clash of civilizations. In those essays I also cited Biblical, Talmudic and Midrashic sources describing the complex relationship between the Western/Christian world and the Islamic world, based on, what must have been, a feisty (not sure if that’s the right word to use) wedding day between Esau and Ishmael’s daughter.

This love-hate relationship between part of the West with the Arab/Islam world, including the Western world’s appetite – addiction, actually – to Arab oil, only complicates matters, fluctuating between a nervous calm to full-blown hostility.

Now we are witnessing the Beit (ISIS in Babylon) terrorizing the Alef (Christians in Syria, Iraq and anywhere they may be found), provoking a response of the Alef (Edom) striking back at the Beit, in Babylon – all transpiring in these days following Tisha B’Av, when both the Alef and the Beit destroyed the Holy Temples in Jerusalem, only to be transformed with the full moon of Av, as we enter these Seven Weeks of Comfort, when we rise from the ashes of the Temple’s destruction and begin rebuilding Jerusalem and Israel.

Who would believe that we would be witnessing today in the 21st century a militant group threatening their innocent neighbors: Either convert or be killed. Are we back in the Middle Ages? Indeed we are. When you trace the historical roots of these battles, it becomes clear that today’s wars are a replay of wars being fought for generations.

We must always remember: The driving ethos of Muslim radical fundamentalism – militant jihad – is, as Bin Laden declared 13 years ago: the religious battle against the decadent West – a battle to vanquish the “crusaders” who together with the “Zionists” are at war with G-d’s plan for Muslim dominance. Parallel that with the words of Abu Mosa, a spokesman for ISIS: “I say to America that the Islamic Caliphate has been established. Don’t be cowards and attack us with drones. Instead send your soldiers, the ones we humiliated in Iraq. We will humiliate them everywhere, G-d willing, and we will raise the flag of Allah in the White House.”

Can we ever win an ideological and religious battle with mere arms and fire-power?

Thus the only long term solution will be a radical paradigm shift in the Muslim world; a change in their education system, what they teach and preach to their children and constituents (just listen to an average Friday sermon in mosques in the Middle East and Europe): Just as Christian aggression and Holy Crusades were ultimately tamed, yielding today a tolerant and compassionate Western world (some countries more than other), with the United States as a shining example of religious freedom and champion of personal rights (with the obvious qualification that there is room to grow, but one cannot compare the state of affairs today to that of the Middle Ages), so too Islam has to mature into a tamed force of love and virtue, living up to the ethos of Abraham, “father of all nations,” that we pray for infidels (Sodom), not behead them. It’s fascinating (and painful) to witness how things have evolved (or devolved) over the past thirteen years since September 11, 2001. At 13 years, bar-mitzvah, one attains a level of maturity that should allow us to see things with deeper clarity empowering us to actually decisively win these battles, instead of just putting out fires.

It’s high time for America and the Western world to grow up and realize that this is not some video game or a fictional film about Cowboys and Indians or superheroes and villains. This is a real historical and religious war, which must be fought not just with armies (to defend the innocent, and for short term relief), but with ideas, minds, education and ideology.

A Miracle in Our Times?

All this was going through my mind driving from JFK following my return flight from the Middle East of the Middle East – Israel.

With all that is happening now – with startling parallels that cannot be denied, in this time of the year, in this part of the world – one cannot help but wonder: Are we witnessing G-d’s miraculous hand in all these events? Is this a modern-day revelation happening right before our very eyes? A wake-up call to help us understand the true nature of these battles, so that we can strategize accordingly?

Obviously, we would prefer a miracle that would not cost any lives and casualties; a miracle that would protect people from fear and displacement; one that would bring permanent peace to all people in that region and in the entire world.

But barring that (obviously G-d wants us to bring the peace), the next best miracle is: Clarity. To see events for what they truly are, and not some delusional image, which may make us feel momentarily comfortable, but is simply not true. And if it’s not true, the chickens will come home to roost (G-d forbid).

It’s hard to see the forest for the trees. But at times we are shown signs. In this case, all you need to do is step back a bit and observe these coinciding events, and the time period in which they are taking place – and it doesn’t take much to connect the dots and see the emerging patterns.

The End of the Story

But where is all this leading us?

If these battles have been raging for centuries, and they are ideological and religious in nature, where does that leave us? Is there a light at the end of the tunnel (and not of an oncoming train)?

The good news is that by understanding the roots of these conflicts, by studying the history of Abraham and his progeny, we also learn about the end story.

We stand at the end of two thousand years of struggling with Edom and Babylon/Ishmael, and our mission has been defined and reinforced repeatedly. In the face of passionate beliefs, we cannot afford to be passive bystanders, complacent and reactive; negative rage, extremism and beliefs can only be countered with positive fervor – an equal if not stronger, passionate embrace of our inner values.

We must stand resolute in our relentless pursuit of creating a better world; unwavering in our faith and commitment to fight for morality and virtue. We cannot allow anything to daunt us. This force of will determination is the only power that can vanquish the negative forces of aggression and (misguided) faith, which terrorize the world.

And the end of the story?

In the words of the Midrash (Yalkut, Isaiah remez 499):

The King of Poros (Ishmael, as the Maharal explains ¹) will bring destruction to the entire world, and all the nations will be outraged and confused… and Jews will be outraged and confused and say: where shall we come and go, where shall we come and go? G-d will answer them: My children, do not be afraid. Everything I have done, I have done for you. Why are you afraid, do not fear, the time of your Redemption has arrived…

——–

Tags: anti-semitism, Islam, Islamism, war
Posted in Biblical, Weekly Parsha, Israel, Beliefs & Concepts, Eikev, Miracles, Torah Personalities, Social, Ishmael, Devarim, Torah, Government, September 11th, Terrorism, Current Events | 2 Comments »

Emerging Purim Patterns: The Connection Between Purim and the 2003 Persian Gulf War

August 14th, 2014

With all the upheaval and uncertainty around us, we are now in a time of the year that helps us ‘connect the dots’ in our lives and in world events.

Purim is upon us, and its powerful message of patterns resonates now more than ever.

The Persian Gulf is in the news as we prepare to celebrate Purim, which took place in ancient Persia.

One of the most striking elements of the Megillah (the scroll that tells the story Purim, which we read twice on that day) is not an event, but a non-event: G-d’s name is never mentioned in the entire book! Not once.

The primary reason for this is because in the Purim miracle G-d works behind the scenes. Yet, work He does; it’s up to us to recognize the underlying patterns in the ostensibly random events that led up to the miraculous conclusion.

Purim is a story of extremes. First an impending holocaust is about to decimate the entire Jewish people. Wicked Haman has persuaded King Achashverosh to annihilate all the Jews in his kingdom, which meant the entire Jewish population at the time – who were under the control of the Persian superpower. Then, just as quickly as it came to be the decree is turned around and the Jews are saved, and Haman and his co-conspirers are hanged.

The amazing part of the story is its unobtrusiveness. The entire story from beginning to end takes place in a period of nine years, resulting from events that to the naked eye could have appeared entirely random and circumstantial (see my article one month ago, Inexplicable Yet Again). Persian King Achashverosh happens to throw a party. When he invites his wife she happens to rebuff him, and in his anger he has her killed. The Jewess Esther happens to be chosen to become the new queen (no one knows her true identity). A while later Mordechai happens to overhear and foil an assassination attempt against the king. One night years later the king happens to have insomnia, and he happens to be read the story of Mordechai saving his life. He then happens to suddenly reward Mordechai. When Haman is ready to fulfill his evil plot, Esther happens to be there to thwart it.

Long story short – over a period of nine years circumstances are positioned in such a way where all the right people are in the right place and the right time to ensure that Haman does not exterminate the Jewish people!

If we were living then, all these events – spread over 9 years – could have appeared as random, isolated experiences. When you are too close to the events you can sometimes not see the forest from the trees. But in retrospect, when we read the Megillah on Purim, and we hear the sequence of events, we then can connect the dots and see the greater picture emerging – one that leads to an absolute miracle.

The message is clear, on both a global and personal scale.

Global events are all dots, often appearing disjointed. Every event is another dot in a picture. While we live through these events we only see the dots, the trees, not the forest. It is usually in retrospect that we can see the patterns emerging.

The same is with history as a whole. History is a process, with each respective generation making its contribution to the bigger picture. The achievements of each spoke in the wheel of history accumulates, but only when you recognize the process and the greater whole. This message has been lost on many nations and empires. Instead of seeing their role as part of the past and the future, they indulged in their power of the moment, they basked in the glow of their own achievements, failing to see themselves as dots, as links in the chain of history. Thus, their inevitable demise. A dot will be lost if it does not join its neighbors in creating the greater picture.

Purim teaches us to search for the patterns amongst the dots of our time. And when we see them, the 2360 years since Purim originally took place is not a wide span that separates then and now, but these years – the past and the present – become one continuum. Purim is not just some distant memory that we commemorate, but an event that lives on today just as it lived then.

Patterns create eternity. They connect the details, which are isolated on their own, and unite them in one tapestry.

Let’s look at some of the dots in our times.

Consider:

Persian Gulf War 2003.

Persian Gulf War 357 bce.

Persian Gulf War I in 1991 ended on Purim.

The ultimatum to Iraq today is for Purim eve.

Too many Persian dots to ignore.

What is it about this region – the Persian Gulf, and the Middle East in general – that continues to remain a hotbed in the spotlight?

Interesting to note as well that the Euphrates River, which runs through modern Iraq, is the fourth river running out of the Garden of Eden. This means that the Persian Gulf area is the place where all civilization and history began.

When you connect the dots, you recognize the pattern that this part of the world has some unique power and hold on mankind.

By connecting today’s events in the Persian region to those that took place at the same location in the time of Purim we also can begin to discover answers to many issues that puzzle us about today’s events. Primary among which is that our ultimate power to overcome any challenge is faith.

The story of Purim teaches us that through prayer and connection to Above, Mordechai and Esther led their people to victory. At the time they did not know how their salvation would come to be. But their faith and conviction allowed them the strength to transcend the individual fragmented ‘dots’ and be ready for the unexpected – that the impossible is possible. Not because of some external, sensational miracle, but because of the absolute faith that there is a ‘hand inside the glove,’ and whether we see it or not, behind the scenes there is a greater force at work.

“Mordechai did not bow.” By not conforming to the social standards and pressures of the time, Mordechai demonstrated true leadership and strength to overcome any challenge. Conformity may be the comfortable choice for the moment, but then you give this moment the power to enslave you forever.

Unity is the theme of Purim. “Assemble all the people.” We send each other food gifts and distribute charitable gifts to the poor. We sit together for a festive Purim meal – all in order to strengthen our bonds in one great show of solidarity, to counter (in Haman’s words) “one nation…scattered and dispersed among the nations.” Yet again, the theme of connecting the fragmented dots.

And finally, the children play a prominent role in Purim. Recognizing the power of the children, Haman planned to target them. To counter that, Mordechai at the time gathered the children to teach them Torah. “Out of the mouths of children and nursing babies You fashioned an invincible might… to still foe and avenger” (Psalms 8:3). So too today, we put special focus on the children during Purim.

Unencumbered by their own egos and material involvements, children are a step closer to the truth than adults. Undistracted by the moment, they can often see the bigger picture, unlike adults who are usually so consumed with the moment.

Children therefore, with their faith cultivated, are our source of strength and a power to counter any adversary. They can help us not be daunted by the immediate events, and recognize the historical patterns that are shaping our lives today.

The Purim message of recognizing these patterns allows us to face our Persian challenge today.

One final ‘dot’ should be mentioned – a ‘dot’ that can help illuminate all the other dots and patterns of current events. To quote a fascinating Midrash – cited extensively by the Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson) during the Persian Gulf War in 1991:

The leader of Persia will attack an Arab nation and the Arab king will go to Aram for advice. The leader of Persia will bring destruction to the entire world, and all nations will be outraged and confused… and they will say, “Where shall we come and go?” G-d will answer them: “My children, do not be afraid, everything I have done, I have done for you. Why are you afraid? Do not fear, the time of your Redemption has arrived. (Yalkut Shemoni Isaiah, remez 499)

The Rebbe associated the “leader of Persia” with Saddam Hussein of present day Iraq attacking “an Arab nation” called Kuwait. The Arab kingdom would turn to Aram, the world’s superpowers. Now, in 2003 this confrontation is coming to a head.

Purim today tells us that we need not fear, for a greater picture is emerging. Yes, our confusion and fear is acknowledged, yet we are reassured that the world is poised at the threshold of a new reality, and it is our awareness and actions that help bring it to actualization.

Practically speaking: To connect the dots of global events and of history we begin by connecting the dots in our personal lives:

Each of us in our lives has many dots. More often than not they may appear to be random, circumstantial. Purim teaches us to look closer at our lives; to focus in – it always helps to employ the assistance of an objective friend – and recognize the deeper patterns in our lives. To see your place in this world, your contacts, your profession, all your experiences – positive and negative – as opportunities to fulfill your higher mission, to bring personal and global redemption.

This Purim we must each ask ourselves: What am I doing to see the deeper truths in my own life and in the life of the universe today.

2360 years separate Purim today from the first Purim back in Persia of old. Our power lies in bridging these years by recreating and reliving Purim and its message today.

2360 years then become – not a distancing force – but an awesome power of continuity that has overcome every challenge it has faced. Not only survived by thrived. Ask yourself: Do you have a more powerful force in your arsenal?

Tags: history, gallus, purpose of life, Babylon
Posted in Purim, Months & Holidays, Beliefs & Concepts, Miracles, Social, Adar, Torah, The Gulf War 2003, Current Events | 2 Comments »

The Prisoner

August 14th, 2014

Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi was arrested on Thursday night, 25th of Tishrei, 5559 (1798). A contingent of imperial soldiers, under the command of a high-ranking officer, placed the Rebbe in the closed, black coach designated for prisoners accused of treason against the Czar, and set out on the several-hundred-mile journey from Liozna to Petersburg.

On the following afternoon, when the clock showed six hours before candle-lighting time, the Rebbe requested that the coach stop for Shabbat. The officer refused. There was a loud crack, and the coach ground to a halt: an axle had snapped. Unperturbed, the officer sent to a nearby village for a wheelwright to make repairs.

When the coach was fit to travel on, one of the horses fell dead. The officer sent for another horse. Four horses pulled and strained, but could not move the coach forward a single inch.

At this point, the officer turned to the Rebbe and asked if he would allow them to travel to the nearest settlement to spend Shabbat there; the Rebbe refused. “Can we at least move the coach off the roadway?” The Rebbe agreed, and the horses easily pulled the coach to a shady spot on the side of the road. There, a mile from the village of Saliba-Rudnia, near the city of Nevel, the Rebbe and his “imprisoners” spent Shabbat.

Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak of Lubavitch (Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s great-great-great-grandson) related that the old chassid Rabbi Michael of Nevel know chassidim who could point to the exact spot where Rabbi Schneur Zalman spent his Shabbat at the roadside. Rabbi Michael himself went to see the place; years later, he would speak of the experience with a fervor and awe usually reserved by chassidim for the deliberation of a sublime concept of Chassidic teaching. “Along both sides of the road,” Rabbi Michael recalled, “were old, broken trees. But one tree stood out from the rest: tall, majestic, its leafy, far-spreading branches shading the spot where the Rebbe spent that Shabbat.”[1]

 

Tags: Alter Rebbe, Chassidic stories, Shabbat
Posted in Yud-Tes Kislev, Months & Holidays, Alter Rebbe, Torah Personalities, Modern, Torah | No Comments »

Yom Kippur Stories

August 13th, 2014

One Yom Kippur eve, when Chassidic master Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael of Kriminitz was granting the traditional blessing to his children, he noticed that one of his daughters, overcome by the emotion of the moment, was weeping softly. The young child in her arms was also crying.

“Why are you crying, my child,” asked the Rebbe of the tot.

“My mother is crying,” answered the child, “so I am also crying.”

In the synagogue that evening, the Rebbe ascended the podium and related what his young grandchild had said to him. Bursting into tears, he then said:

“A child who sees his mother weeping, weeps as well, even if he cannot comprehend the reason for her tears. Our mother, too, is weeping. Our sages tell us that the Shechinah keens like a dove and cries: “Woe is to My children, that because of their sins I have destroyed My home, set fire to My sanctuary, and have exiled them among the nations.” “So even if we ourselves have become inured to the pain of the exile,” wept Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael, “at least we should cry because our mother is crying.”

Those who arrived early at the village synagogue on Yom Kippur eve could not but notice the man sleeping in a corner. His soiled clothes, and the strong scent of alcohol that hovered about him, attested to the cause of his slumber at this early hour. A Jew drunk on the eve of the Holy Day? Several of the congregants even suggested that the man be expelled from the synagogue.

Soon the room filled to overflowing, mercifully concealing the sleeping drunk from all but those who stood in his immediate vicinity. As the sun made to dip below the horizon, a hush descended upon the crowd: the Rebbe entered the room and made his way to his place at the eastern wall. At a signal from the Rebbe, the ark was opened, and the gabbai began taking out the Torah scrolls in preparation for the Kol Nidrei service.

This was the moment that the drunk chose to rise from his slumber, climb the steps to the raised reading platform in the center of the room, pound on the reading table, and announce: “Ne’um attah horeissa!” The scene—the crowded room, Torah scrolls being carried out of the open ark—seen through a drunken haze, appeared to the man as the beginning of hakkafot on Simchat Torah! The drunk was confusing the most solemn and awesome moment of the year with its most joyous and high-spirited occasion.

The scandalized crowd was about to eject the man from the room when the Rebbe turned from the wall and said: “Let him be. For him, it’s already time for hakkafot. He’s there already.”

***

On the following evening, as the Rebbe sat with his chassidim at the festive meal that follows the fast, he related to them the story of Reb Shmuel, the Kol Nidrei drunk.

On the morning of the eve of the Holy Day, Reb Shmuel had heard of a Jew who, together with his wife and six small children, had been imprisoned for failing to pay the rent on the establishment he held on lease from the local nobleman. Reb Shmuel went to the nobleman to plead for their release, but the nobleman was adamant in his refusal. “Until I see every penny that is owed to me,” he swore, “the Jew and his family stay where they are. Now get out of here before I unleash my dogs on you.”

“I cannot allow a Jewish family to languish in a dungeon on Yom Kippur,” resolved Reb Shmuel and set out to raise the required sum, determined to achieve their release before sunset.

All day, he went from door to door. People gave generously to a fellow Jew in need, but by late afternoon Reb Shmuel was still 300 rubles short of the required sum. Where would he find such a large sum of money at this late hour? Then he passed a tavern and saw a group of well-dressed young men sitting and drinking. A card-game was underway, and a sizable pile of banknotes and gold and silver coins had already accumulated on the table.

At first he hesitated to approach them at all: what could one expect from Jews who spend the eve of the Holy Day drinking and gambling in a tavern? But realizing that they were his only hope, he approached their table and told them of the plight of the imprisoned family.

They were about to send him off empty-handed, when one of them had a jolly idea: wouldn’t it be great fun to get a pious Jew drunk on Yom Kippur? Signaling to a waiter, the man ordered a large glass of vodka. “Drink this down in one gulp,” he said to the Reb Shmuel, “and I’ll give you 100 rubles.”

Reb Shmuel looked from the glass that had been set before him to the sheaf of banknotes that the man held under his nose. Other than a sip of l’chayim on Shabbat and at weddings, Reb Shmuel drank only twice a year—on Purim and Simchat Torah, when every chassid fuels the holy joy of these days with generous helpings of inebriating drink so that the body should rejoice along with the soul. And the amount of vodka in this glass—actually, it more resembled a pitcher than a glass—was more than he would consume on both those occasions combined. Reb Shmuel lifted the glass and drank down its contents.

“Bravo!” cried the man, and handed him the 100 rubles. “But this is not enough,” said Reb Shmuel, his head already reeling from the strong drink. “I need another 200 rubles to get the poor family out of prison!”

“A deal’s a deal!” cried the merrymakers. “One hundred rubles per glass! Waiter! Please refill this glass for our drinking buddy!”

Two liters and two hundred rubles later, Reb Shmuel staggered out of the tavern. His alcohol-fogged mind was oblivious to all—the stares of his fellow villagers rushing about in their final preparations for the Holy Day, the ferocious barking of the nobleman’s dogs, the joyous tears and profusions of gratitude of the ransomed family—except to the task of handing over the money to the nobleman and finding his way to the synagogue. For he knew that if he first went home for something to eat before the fast, he would never make it to shul for Kol Nidrei.

“On Rosh HaShanah,” the Rebbe concluded his story, “we submitted to the sovereignty of Heaven and proclaimed G-d king of the universe. Today, we fasted, prayed and repented, laboring to translate our commitment to G-d into a refined past and an improved future. Now we are heading towards Sukkot, in which we actualize and rejoice over the attainments of the ‘Days of Awe’ through the special mitzvot of the festival—a joy that reaches its climax in the hakkafot of Simchat Torah. But Reb Shmuel is already there. When he announced the beginning of hakkafot at Kol Nidrei last night, this was no ‘mistake.’ For us, Yom Kippur was just beginning; for him, it was already Simchat Torah….”

This article is an excerpt from Inside Time, a groundbreaking three-volume book set about the meaning and messages of the Hebrew calendar.

Learn more about Yom Kippur.

 

Tags: Kol Nidrei, Divine feminine, chassidim
Posted in Tishrei, Months & Holidays, Yom Kippur, Torah | 4 Comments »

Joy in Four Dimensions: Purim

August 13th, 2014

Joy, teaches the Torah, is to be a perpetual presence in the life of the Jew. There are, however, several degrees of joy.

1)      “Serve G-d with joy” (Psalms 100:2). This is the joy that accompanies the performance of every mitzvah—the Jew’s joy in having merited to fulfill the divine will. Here, the joy is not an objective in itself, but a component of another aim: the objective is to serve G-d, but in order that this be achieved in the most optimal manner, one’s deeds must be saturated with joy. (For example: giving charity grudgingly aids the recipient materially, but also demoralizes him; giving cheerfully nurtures the pauper’s body and refreshes his soul).

2)      “Seasons for rejoicing” (Kiddush for the Festivals; Deuteronomy 16:14). On the festivals, it is a mitzvah to rejoice. Here, joy is not an accompaniment to some other deed, but the substance of the endeavor itself. Nevertheless, this is still not joy for the sake of joy. The objective remains the fulfillment of the will of G-d, who commanded that the festivals be celebrated joyously.

3)      “When [the month of] Adar commences, one increases in joy” (Talmud, Taanit 29a). This means that the Jew strives to increase his joy in all areas, including his non mitzvah-related activities. The joy of Adar is not a joy with an objective, but an end in it itself.

4)      “A person is obligated to get drunk on Purim until he doesn’t know…” (Talmud, Megillah 7b). On Purim the Jew attains the ultimate in joy: not only is his joy not qualified by any reason or objective, it is free even of the objective to be joyous. He is so consumed with joy that he is oblivious to all, including the fact that he is rejoicing…

From an address by the Rebbe, Purim 5718 (1958).[1]

Tags: Rebbe, joy, happiness
Posted in Purim, Months & Holidays, Personal Life, Adar, Torah, Emotions & Psychology | No Comments »