The Blog

There is a story that has been passed from generation to generation. It has many variations, but its eternal message is unchanged: In a small European village a few hundred years ago, there lived a beloved Rabbi who would mysteriously disappear each Friday afternoon.

His devoted and admiring chassidim would speculate that he went to heaven, connecting to G-d and His angels in the heavenly spheres in preparation for the holy Shabbat.

One day, a stranger was visiting the town. He scoffed to hear the townsfolk’s presumptions about the Rebbe’s whereabouts.

More than a little skeptical, he secretly followed him the following Friday afternoon.

Speechless, he watched this esteemed Rebbe, dressed as a peasant, climb deep into the woods with a sack on his back, and chop down wood.

He then proceeded to bring the firewood and the sack into the lonely little house of an impoverished widow and five small children.

No task was beneath this great Torah scholar as he created a blazing fire in the fireplace, unpacked the food and clothes from the sack, lovingly fed the children and left the woman with many kind and caring words.

Arriving back into the village, the chassidim eagerly asked the stranger to describe the Rebbe’s ascent to heaven.

“Nu, do you believe us now that our Rebbe goes to heaven?!” they asked him.

The humbled man replied, “Perhaps even higher.”

What is true goodness? What is true giving?

Judaism gently teaches us through the stories of the scroll7 that true goodness is not carried out in a blaze of glory.

True goodness and giving often involves nurturing and caring in little ways that go unseen.

Often when it’s hard.

Often when it hurts.

Often when it’s not really “my job.”

Impacting this world is not reserved for the knight in shining armor, for the air-brushed faces of Hollywood.

It is the responsibility and right of every one of us- with all of our talents and strengths, and yes, with all of our weaknesses.

We, and our loved ones, are immortalized long after we are gone through the kind acts on this earth- the comforting whisper to a frightened child, the mending of a broken heart, the giving of tzedakah when we need to dig deep, the patience and forbearance to a cantankerous relative, the nourishing home-cooked meal delivered with love…

It is through the goodness and giving here below that we touch the divine, ascending higher than heaven.

I climbed into my little son's bed and kissed his long delicate lashes.  His face was flushed from a hot bath, and his eyes had been struggling to stay open as he waited for me to come say goodnight.
Now they fluttered and then closed as he felt my arm around him.
Just when I thought he was deeply asleep, he startled me, whispering, "Don't leave me."
I smiled and hugged him tight. 
And then I thought, dear G-d, please make sure I don't leave him.
Allow me to be here for him physically, emotionally and spiritually.
And dear G-d, please don't leave me.
Allow me to feel Your presence, Your love.
When life is hurting.
When life is happy.
When I am awake and aware.
And when I am asleep.

Chanukah is coming!  Time to kindle the menorah, eat some chocolate gelt with the kids, perhaps play a game or two of dreidel.
But really, what does this ancient story in the second century BCE have to do with my life in 2010?
 
In a time of darkness, the Macabees found a flask of oil that illuminated the menorah for eight miraculous days.
We remember this miracle by lighting a menorah for eight days, too.
According to Jewish law, a Kosher menorah needs to contain eight candle-holders.  Eight potentials for light.  If one is lighting on Day Three, it is irrelevant that he does not need the remaining five holders.  They have to be there.
The deeper reason:  The ultimate way to maximize growth and potential is to fully act on one moment at a time, while looking ahead to future growth and potential.  Future light.
 
What is light?
Scientifically, we know that light moves in electromagnetic waves.  Currents.  Endlessly moving.
The light, the goodness that we create, too, must keep creating vibrations, movements, ripple effects.
Light giving impetus for more light.
As we celebrate each accomplishment, we can look to the future and know that there is more.
Light is lighting Shabbat candles on Friday afternoon before the sun sets, and then adding a dinner to go with it.
Light is being patient with a new clerk on a busy morning, and then bringing that patient attitude to the rest of my day. 
Light is picking two Kosher items to put in the shopping cart, and then being open to exploring more.
Light is calling someone who is lonely just to say hello, and then calling a little more often.
Light is setting aside five minutes a day to learn Torah from the wealth of information on the web, and then perhaps joining a class when possible.
Light is giving Tzedakah to important organizations, and then giving daily- even if it's a coin or two in a Tzedakah box.
Light is all of the goodness waiting to be done.
On the Lubavitcher Rebbe's 70th birthday, he was asked by a college student if it was possible to be his Chassid without donning the Chassidic garb, without growing a beard.
The Rebbe replied, "Every day, even now, I wake up each morning seeking to make it better than the day before.  If you only make the commitment to do this, to consistently add in goodness, I will be proud to call you my Chassid."
 

Judaism at its essence is a living ideology.
At Passover, we don't simply celebrate a liberation from slavery 2,000 years ago- we focus on breaking free from our own inner-Egypts.
At Shavuot, we don't simply read about the giving of the Torah to a brand-new nation- we renew our commitment to receiving the Torah into our own personal lives.
At Chanukah, we don't simply tell the age-old story of a flask of oil that burned, and burned, and yet burned some more- we add one candle each night, a reflection of the goodness we strive to accomplish, banishing the darkness in our world- not through sweeping it out with a broom- but by adding, and adding, and yet adding light.

From my dear colleague in Sydney, Australia - Rabbi Moss. 

Question of the Week:

My kids say that it is boring to be Jewish. They went crazy after hours in shul on Yom Kippur and say they don't want to go back next year. We told them that we only go once a year, and it is important. How can I inspire them to go to shul again?

Answer:

Of all the days on the Jewish calendar, it seems the most unlikely pick. The service is at least ten times longer than usual - it takes all day. The atmosphere is far more serious and somber than ever - we spend the whole time confessing our sins and begging for forgiveness. And the food is the worst served at any Jewish gathering - none.

I would suggest choosing another day for your once a year shul appearance - Simchas Torah. The prayers are relatively short. We don't even wait until the service is over to bring out the food. Most of the time is spent eating, drinking and dancing. The focus of the day is celebrating, basking in the joy of just being Jewish.

Kids love it. And adults do too, because on this day the purest essence of the soul is revealed, that part of us that equalizes young and old, learned and ignorant, sinful and saintly.

The truth is Yom Kippur and Simchas Torah are two steps in one spiritual process. On Yom Kippur, through fasting and inner repentance, we rid ourselves of the negative past. On Simchas Torah, through dancing and celebrating, we draw down the blessings for a promising future. The deeper your cleansing was on Yom Kippur, the more profound will be your joy on Simchas Torah.

Don't make the all too common mistake of showing your kids the heavy side of Judaism while robbing them of the experience of Jewish joy. A Jew who knows Yom Kippur but hasn't seen Simchas Torah is a Jew who has seen the soul cry but hasn't seen the soul dance. We have cried enough. It is time to celebrate.

Good Yomtov.

And how.  For the majority of each week, we toil.  Do monotonous work.  Are at times involved with drudgery.  It is only for a small sliver, a seventh, to be exact, that we are told to remove ourselves from the toiling and relax...reflect...renew.
 
But should our lives truly be disproportionate in this sense- with one day to retreat, with sweet moments few and far between, the majority of our time dealing with toil?  It's always been a hard concept for me to wrap my mind around.  Not because I'm not willing to work- but because it doesn't seem to make sense, spending most of our lives immersed in the less-than appealing.
 
Unless.
 
We can look for ways to lessen the monotony.  Lessen the drudgery.  Find meaning within it.  Make a decision to enter our day with a positive attitude.  Smile more.  Appreciate the ability to work.  Savor precious memories.  Listen to a stimulating talk while we complete our tasks.  Look at difficult situations as an opportunity for growth.
 
Perhaps we were born to toil...to find the sweet moments, the reflection in the other six-sevenths of the week.

As parents, we have many hopes and dreams for our children.  Among these are imparting our Jewish values effectively, so that they will shape their thinking and decisions and life choices.  And yet, we want our children to be autonomous human beings, expanding their inquisitive, critical thinking.
 
The two can seem at odds with each other- expecting our children to embrace our values, black-and-white truths.  And yet, giving our children the freedom- and respect- of exploring their thoughts.
 
How to reconcile the two?
 
While we certainly have an obligation to guide our children’s questions about Judaism, about Hashem…to concrete answers and eternal values, the journey to getting to these answers can be filled with discussion, with input from the child- because it is through the child’s input that they come to see the soul of Judaism, not just the immediate answers.
 
Judaism has “the discipline of thought as well as the discipline of action,” Rabbi Soloveichick so poignantly describes, “. . .[but] Judaism expresses itself not only in formal compliance with the law but also in a living experience . . . that there is a flavor, a scent and warmth to the mitzvot . . .”
 
And perhaps a key to having this “living experience” is for the child’s thoughts to be respected, and taken seriously in relation to his questions.
 
When a child asks a question, oftentimes, they have begun formulating an answer.  When children feel safe to share this formulation, it can contribute to the journey of arriving to an answer.
 
As busy parents, this can prove to be quite a challenge.  It is quicker- and might also feel ‘safer’- to give an immediate, rushed response to our child’s question, as opposed to exploring the question with them, sometimes allowing complex thoughts and feelings to surface.
 
An example…
Quick to Answer:
Child:  Mommy, why can’t we see Hashem?
Mom:  Because He wants us to look for Him.
 
Encouraging Autonomy:
Child:  Mommy, why can’t we see Hashem?
Mom:  That’s a great question.  Why can’t we see Hashem?  What do you think?
 
In the case of my own daughter, she contributed that maybe Hashem was “testing us.”  I agreed with her that it can certainly be a test to listen to what He wants, or for some to believe that He exists. 
 
We discussed this challenge for a while, and then I concluded with the idea, with the concrete value that if we could openly see Hashem, it would not be such a challenge to do the right thing, as it would be obvious that He is watching us, and that He expects us to make the right choices.
 
But because we have to make choices without seeing Hashem, it is very precious to Him when we do the right thing, because it’s not always easy!  And that sometimes it can help to remember how much Hashem loves us, and appreciates how hard it is to do the right thing.
 
Hopefully, with her input, and a defined answer given in conclusion, she will take this knowledge with her for a lifetime, appreciating the unique flavor that she gives it.
 
An answer, a value, that is not simply one of mom’s and dad’s, but one she can truly call her own.

To be sure, accomplishments, abilities, interactions...can influence our respect and admiration for one another, shape, and enhance our relationships, or, at other times, bring disappointment along with other negative feelings.

Only looking at the one another's soul.

Who they themselves are, at the untainted, untapped, purest, deepest level.

And then, Adam knows Eve.

Man is constantly searching for meaning.  Yearning, striving for a relationship with a Higher Being.  Questioning its existence.
 
This yearning, striving and searching has a whole new intensity when devastation hits.
 
Judaism never assured 'protection' from tragedy.  If it did, we'd all be lining up to enter our local Jewish center, like Charlie with the golden ticket.
 
So beyond offering meaning and purpose to life, what indeed does Judaism offer to those who are struggling painfully?
 
Judaism offers the gift, the knowledge (or for others, the hope) that every occurrence on this earth, from the fluttering of a leaf off a tree, to a tragedy that changes lives forever, has a reason.  Is part of a bigger picture that we usually cannot see.
 
It can give solace and peace when we feel vulnerable and unprotected in a sea of madness:  Judaism does not offer protection, it offers a solid ground, an island of comforting trust when we fall, bereft.
 
Of course, despite this knowledge, as mortal human beings, the questions still beg to be answered, and the pain is so horrifically real and strong.
 
Which leaves me in awe of the great people we meet over the course of a lifetime, who go on with the comfort- or searching- of this trust.
Of the people struggling with their pain.
Of the people who live with both.
 
To hear my father's answer of, "Thank G-d", in response to my anxious, how are you? in the midst of devastating loss- is to know greatness.
To see a girl who encountered tragedy too early in life, celebrate someone else's joy- is to know greatness.
To know that a father who has just buried his child, with a broken heart proclaims G-d's wholeness- is to know greatness.
To embrace a mother suffering from this pain, who starts to comfort you- is to experience strength.
 
Judaism places much emphasis on getting things done- this I learn from those who move fluidly through its actions.
The Trust part- this I learn from those who struggle.

A correspondence my colleague, Rabbi Aaron Moss, had with one of his congregants...

Thanks for the invite, but I won't be able to attend your Simchas Torah celebration this Saturday night. I have booked tickets to a game and I don't want to miss it. Anyway, I only go to synagogue for the High Holydays. You don't expect me to give up a game for another prayer service, do you?
 
Answer:

I promised to tell you some of the conversation I had with the great author, Mr. Herman Wouk, when I met with him briefly this past summer. "One of the guiding principles of my life has been Torah and Derech Eretz," he said as he was about to leave my car. What that statement truly means takes a lifetime of working on oneself to fully grasp. However, let me attempt to translate that statement. Torah - The practice and study of Jewish Law - (Torah isn't just another subject, it must be applied to your daily life to truly comprehend its meaning). Derech Eretz - Literally "Ways of the World." Better translated - Acting with consideration and kindness to one’s fellow human beings, and in so doing, fulfilling the will of God. "American Jewry excels in Derech Eretz," Mr. Wouk concluded. "They need to be introduced to Torah. May you have much success in being a leader to the Jewish people."

Have you ever gone to Palm Springs, CA during August? Ever experienced 120⁰ weather? Since I hadn’t and the prices for hotels were ridiculously cheap, there I was in the heat of Palm Springs, with my four kids limping through the outdoor living desert museum wondering how the Jews did this for forty years after they left Egypt. However, I digress, the real reason I went to the desert on that summer day was to meet the author of “The Caine Mutiny” and “Winds of War”, Mr. Herman Wouk.

At 94 (may he live and be well), Mr. Wouk still attends the daily 7 a.m. (Shachrit) Prayer service at Chabad of Palm Springs. That’s where I met him and had the opportunity to give him a ride from the synagogue to his modest home. I must admit I was intimidated. This world-famous and wealthy author who still has the humility to pray to his G-d every morning and observe his Mitzvot for over 75 years is someone I have tremendous respect for. Meeting this truly great man will stay in my memory for as long as I live. As the New Year approaches, I suggest a Rosh Hashanah resolution for anyone wanting to have a better understanding of their Judaism to read Wouk’s, “This Is My G-d” and the “Will to Live On”. May you and your families be blessed with a sweet New Year. More on what we spoke about next week…

He squealed in delight as he merrily skipped into the little red car. 
 
I had a bad cold, and so I was not driving my four-year-old son to school as usual; a friend of mine offered to do it for me.  In her little red car.  And as I watch him, thrilled to experience something seemingly so ordinary and unexciting, I realized that for him, in his unjaded little mind, this was not a mere change of cars, this was extroardinary and exciting.  Perhaps it was the new color, new smell, new textures, different engine noises. 
 
But children grow up.  And as we get older, and get caught up in the bigger struggles, it becomes difficult to savor life's littler events as possible sources of happiness.  They tend to seem trivial in the constant pursuit of it. 
 
So we immerse ourselves in the pursuit of the bigger things.  We keep waiting to be happily-ever-after.  But life is not a fairytale.  It involves an eclectic mix of emotions, from joy to sadness, gratitude to grief, humility to euphoria.  It can involve holes that can never be filled.
 
However, we can always plant little seeds of happiness.  Even if the joy that blooms is there for just a few moments in time.  It is when happiness seems most elusive, that we need to find it in these little moments more than ever.  A real look at the beautiful mountains that surround me.  A few moments alone in the warmth of the sun.  A little brown box discovered at the door.  A tall glass of tea with a friend.  Running barefoot with a child from the scorching, slippery sand to the cold comfort of the dark green grass.  
 
We all have little red cars in our lives.  Let's go out and use them.  Make a conscious effort to experience them, and get little sprinklings of joy.

With a foreign accent, he joyfully chanted the ancient yet accessible Hebrew words, his olive-skin fingers pointing to their letters, etched in ink.  Around him stood the others, local residents, with local accents and lighter skin, all of them connected on this sunny Saturday morning, in the sameness of the words they all read.
 
Divine words that have guided, comforted and continue to give life, to an immortal people.

He was visiting our quiet city of Thousand Oaks, saw our “Chabad Jewish Center” sign, and stepped inside to celebrate Shabbat with us.  He offered to read that week’s designated portion from our Torah Scroll.
 
And so, there he was, chanting the words with a Sephardic lilt, thousands of miles away from his own, in a synagogue different than his own, and yet he was home. 
 
At home with this precious piece of parchment, containing the exact same 79,847 hand-written words as the many others across the globe, from Israel to Australia, from Toledo to Thousand Oaks.
 
At home with words that transcend cultures, time, and space.
 
No matter where you roam, the sacred scrolls are the same. 

I love shopping at Whole Foods.  It turns the necessity of food-shopping into a luxury.  From the cozy, dim lighting and glossy wooded floors, to the fresh and fragrant herbs, fruits and vegetables, to the newest holistic vitamins and cosmetics, to the creative varieties of foods all beautifully displayed, and of course, the hot tea...it is an experience for the senses!
 
I love the concept of "Whole Foods."  And their idea of "Whole Pantry" and "Whole Body"...  What would constitute a "Whole Life"?  How does one define that?
 
I like to think that "whole" means "complete."  Including the best of all worlds, within the realm of possibility.  So that a "whole" apple would be brand-new, vibrant in color, crisp, juicy and organic.  So that a "whole" exfoliating spa treatment would be naturally fragrant, soothing, and full of benificial minerals.

I like to think that a "Whole Life" would include both physical and spiritual wellness.  The physical efforts enhance the quality of life, and the spiritual efforts give meaning to living it. 
 
And that G-d created us with an innate desire to find meaning, so that we might use it to come closer to Him.
 
A "Whole Life" in the spiritual realm means different things for different people.  For some, it means improving, enhancing their closeness.  For others, it means continuing to search for Him.
 
But for all of us, a "Whole Life" must include actualizing our awareness. 
 
Learning about the nutritional value, and then eating it.
Wanting the benefits of exercise, and then doing it.
 
Searching for Him, and never giving up the search.
Yearning for more closeness, and then doing the things that bring us closer.
 
Taking care of the body, taking care of the soul.
 
Including the best of both worlds, within the realm of possibility.
 
Striving to live a Whole Life.

When I was a child, living in New York, my relationship with my parents involved the constancy of their presence in day-to-day life.  Now, living in California, it involves the constancy of their absence in day-to-day life.  And it’s always sad to travel back home after visiting with them, back to that awareness. 
 
Because I don't have their day-to-day presence, other dimensions in our relationship have become more distinct. 
 
Like the power of not only feeling their love, but knowing of it.
 
I can’t talk to them (often).

I can't see them.
 
They are not a physical part of my day-to-day life.
 
Yet, as I live far away, carpooling my children, celebrating Shabbat, going shopping, or sitting in a park, the knowledge of their love surrounds me with feelings of well-being. 
 
Just knowing that there is someone who loves - on good days and on bad days, when my life feels serene, and when my life seems like a mad jungle - makes me feel secure and cared about in a sometimes-jumbled world. 
 
And these feelings of security, of being loved and cared about...transcend all that is transient.  No one and nothing can take that love away.
 
I think about the 'parent' of us all. 
 
Sometimes, we might feel that He is intensely with us.  Acknowledge Him.  Talk to Him. 
 
And then there are times when we might feel intensely far away, in the middle of stressful times. 
When we don't always acknowledge Him.  Talk to Him.  See Him.  
 

But to know, or even to hope, that we are loved, cared by Him, during weathers of sun and storm, can make all the difference.