Az Der Eibishter Tanzt

This week's parsha, Toldos ("Generations"), speaks of the birth of Yaakov and Eisav (Jacob and Esau), Yitzchok's movement within the lands of Avimelech to escape famine, and the eventual giving of the birthright to Yaakov instead of Eisav. The culmination of the parsha, with the blessing of Yaakov, gives tremendous insight into the nature and essence of Judaism, in contrast to other faiths and contemplative practices.

The Torah records the bracha (blessing) given by Yitzchok to Yaakov, beginning,"V'yiten l'chu Ho'Eloikim mital hashomayim imishmanei ho'uretz, v'roiv dugon v'siroish" ("And G-d will give you from the dew of the heavens and the fatness of the earth, and an abundance of grain and wine"). From the very first word, the blessing seems to use strange language. What is the reason for starting the bracha with the word "and", as if the bracha is a continuation from a previous statement? Rashi, the historical supercommentator on the Torah, cites a Medrash (allegorical source) saying that to begin a bracha this way means that it will happen, and then happen again. However, does this imply that without the word "and" attached to the first word, the blessing would only be fulfilled at one time, and then end?

From a second angle, the bracha seems odd in that a spiritual inheritance should revolve completely around physicality. On the surface, this presents the idea that though we are here for a spiritual task, the task does not include going without our physical needs, and sometimes (if we happen to come to the place of matching our desire with the will of G-d) our wants. It is not the plan that we suffer in this world in order to reach an enlightened state, but that we should instead strengthen and comfort ourselves so that we might be better equipt to do our jobs in this world.

For the Sfas Emes (a previous rebbe of Gerrer Chasidus, about whom enough cannot be said), the union of these two concepts explains the true meaning of the beginning of the bracha. By receiving an abundance of material things, and using them to complete the will of G-d (ex. using food to strengthen our bodies), we return the essence of these objects (which is spiritual, as the essence of all physicality is spiritual) to their source. In return, we receive more from above. The Medrash presents this idea in the imagery of a cave near the ocean. At first, the cave receives water from the waves, but then the waves retreat, returning the water to the ocean, with the cycle repeating over and over; a constant reciprocation between man and G-d, the lower world and the higher one.


In Judaism, this is the task of humanity. The world was created in the mystical emptiness left when the Ein Sof (Infinite Presence) was withdrawn, and all of physical existence is only a game of hide-and-seek with sparks of the Divine. By reaching out to the physical world, accepting the task at hand when we find physicality presented to us, and acknowledging that physicality is a necessary means to the final end, we reunite the Divine sparks with their source(a process known by the name 'shevias hakeilim'). It is not for us to run away from the world and retreat into contemplative, monastic life. We must recognize that physicality is a bracha, but it is left to us to confront it and elevate our surroundings.

"The religious ideal is not withdrawal from the physical world in an attempt to become an angel. On the contrary, we want to be involved in many different facets of the world and apply the moral and spiritual guidance of G-d to every aspect of life." -Unknown

Shuvah, Hashem, v'Hinacheim

During the ten days between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, it is the job of every Jew to spent much time learning, praying, and meditating to bring themselves to a place of repentance and contrition for the wrongdoings, so that they might put themselves on a more correct path. However, it is a central principle in Judaism that since all mitzvos (commandments) are true because they are extensions of the Truth (G-d), then G-d also keeps all of the mitzvos. The same, then, applies to teshuvah (repentance).

It is a somewhat strange thing to think that G-d repents, but the Torah itself cites examples of G-d doing repentence. In Shemos (Exodus) 32:14, the Torah says, "V'yinacheim Hashem, al hara'ah asher diber laasos l'amo" ("And G-d repented for the evil which He said He would do to his people"). The same is found in Tehillim (Psalms) 90:13, where we read "Shuvah Hashem...v'hinacheim" ("Return, O G-d...and repent").

While it is presented in the Torah that G-d does teshuvah, there is also the principle that G-d does not change. However, when looking at the Torah, our lives, and the world, we seem to have countless instances when G-d has changed, given a new decree, or decided against continuing punishment. The truth is, though, that it is not G-d who has changed, but us. Each step a person takes in the world of spirituality brings them to a brand new madreiga (level), which has its own set of opportunities, blessings, and availabilities. When we experience hardships, or see ourselves moving toward impending calamity, and work to elevate ourselves spiritually to correct our path (i.e. repent), our new level opens up brand new vessels to receive a completely different aspect of G-d's kindness, which was not available to us on the previous level.


When we do true teshuvah, and move as a people beyond a previous state, we not only reach a new level, but the previous misdeeds are transformed into good deeds, as they are now seen in the light of being instrumental in our current elevation. This is why it is extremely important for the Jewish people to have a strong connection with and follow the righteous people within each generation, since there exists the rule, "Tzadik gozer, Hakadosh Baruch Hu mekayem" ("A righteous person decrees, G-d enacts"). It isn't that a tzadik (righteous person) forces G-d to act in a certain way, but the minhagim, chidushim (insights), and other gazeiros (decrees) that the tzadik gives to his followers open up endlessly exapnding vessels, through which G-d can impart unimaginable goodness guaranteed by our new level.


So, how is it that G-d does repentence? The previously quoted verse in Tehillim is followed by verse 14, which says, "Sabeinu vaboker chasdecha," ("Satisfy us in the morning with Your mercy"). That is to say, after we have done our teshuvah, after we have implemented the directives of our tzadikim, after we have seen ourselves to a new spiritual level, satisfy us with the realization that You (G-d), too, have responded by revealing the innate goodness and holiness found deep within our previous punishments, and are refreshing us with as much revealed goodness now as hidden goodness in the past.

Ashreichem, Yisroel

In Tehillim (Psalms) we find the verse, "Rosh devarcha emes" ("The beginning of your word is truth"), which leads us to ask, "Why the beginning?" Because each word is of vital importance in the Torah, there must be a reason why the word "beginning" was chosen over the word "all", or simply "Your word is true". Chazal (the Jewish sages) comment on this verse in the Gemara. They note that when the nations of the world heard the Ten Utterances (Ten Commandments), they heard "I am G-d", and immediately began to assume that all of the commandments and lessons in the Torah were simply to be a result of G-d's own pleasure and because of G-d's need for recognition. However, when the nations heard later commandments, such as "Honor your father and mother", and "Do not steal", they saw that the beginning statement, "I am G-d", must also be true.

The nations, therefore, legitimized G-d's existence and truth through the seeming universality of what was revealed after the initial statement of G-d's existence. This is the way that the world seems to work: it is only after the results are in that we can give an account of the deliverer of those results, and they apply the same to G-d. However, when they see the Jews practicing actions that do not go by any logic or understanding that will seem to be "intrinsically true", then they mock the Jewish people with regard to the practice.

For the Jewish people, however, it is the opposite. Continuously during Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur we say, "You, G-d, are true". This means that there is no truth, no reality, nothing at all other than G-d. We are not forbidden to steal because it is universally good and intrinsically logical not to steal, but we are forbidden to steal because it is given as an extension of the Truth, which is G-d. Therefore, Dovid HaMelech (King David) says in Tehillim, "The beginning of Your word is true," to show that since the first of the Ten Utterances was "I am G-d," it qualifies all to follow as completely true, since Truth is revealing it. We may not agree, we may not understand, and chas v'shalom we may not follow, but none of that makes it less true.

Therefore, during the prayers for Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur we say, "Your throne is established in kindness, and You will sit upon it in truth". By defintion, this kindness (chesed) is something that extends to all people, even those who seem to not deserve it. It might appear to be counterintuitive for those that we deem unworthy to receive G-d's kindness, but these things do not depend upon our values and assumptions, as the verse says, "and You will sit upon it in truth". There is no such thing as "intrinsic" or "universal"; there is only G-d, which is Truth.


It follows then, that Rabbi Akiva says in the Mishnah, "Ashreichem Yisroel! Lifnei mi atem mitaharin? Mi lifnei m'taheir es'chem? Avichem shebashamayim!... V'yomer, 'Mikveh Yisroel HaShem', ma mikveh m'taheir hat'mei'im, af Hakadosh Baruch Hu mi'taheir es Yisroel" ("Fortunate are you Israel! Before whom are you cleansed? Who cleanses you? Your Father in Heaven!... And it is said, 'The mikveh of Israel is G-d', for just as a mikveh cleanses something impure, so The Holy One cleanses Israel"). The Jewish people are fortunate because we recognize that truth exists only because it is an extension of G-d, allowing ourselves to accept our role as His children, making Him our Father, which in turn allows Him to treat us with the overflowing kindness that a father shows a child, purifying us even when we do not seem to deserve it... and when we are purified by the source of all truth, we are truly purified.

(As learned from the holy sefer Aish Kodesh, by Hagaon Harav Kalonymos Kalmish Shapira, HY"D, the Rebbe of Piacezna. May he receive zechus from those learning his words during this time of teshuvah and cheshbon.)

Just Floating

As hoped, visiting Montreal lifted me from the depths of summer boredom. While I had high high hopes for the city, being there definitely exceeded my expectations.


The trip to Montreal was in a small, rickety plane where you could feel every bump and shift during take-off and landing. As soon as the plane landed, it was obvious that Montreal is French-speaking. In fact, it is the second largest French-speaking city in the world. After clearing customs and renting the car, we made our way to Old Montreal and to our hotel. After getting checked in, I immediately wanted to get out and see the city. I took a walk around, quickly coming to the promenade along the St. Lawrence Seaway. Along the promenade, in the area of the old port, there were shops, restaurants, cafes, and museums. This area of the city was very lively, and walking around showed the diversity of the city.



Later in the day, the drive to eat dinner took us through most of centre-ville (downtown), which was starkly different than the ornately French Old Montreal. Like most modern cities, the downtown area of Montreal is dominated by skyscrapers and modern design. However, Montreal proved to be much cleaner and full of tree-filled squares and plazas. Centre-ville was also filled with people, as the last day of the Montreal Jazz Festival was coming to an end. The trip to and from dinner, and the walk after dinner, showed even more diversity in the city's population. Because of the language, Montreal has attracted immigrants from French-speaking countries across the world, giving the city large West African, Moroccan, Algerian, and Vietnamese communities.


The next day we found ourselves eating lunch and walking around in the Chasidic area of Montreal. The neighborhoods of Mile End and Outremont are home to the largest Chasidic population in Canada, and the community is quite substantial. The area has countless synagogues and restaurants, as well as clothing stores and supermarkets catering to the community. The neighborhood was also very artsy and bohemian, with galleries, cafes, and boutiques lining the streets. That night we ate in dinner in the other large Jewish area of the city, Cote-St.-Luc. While Mile End and Outremont are largely ultra-Orthodox, Cote-St.-Luc is largely Modern Orthodox. Interestingly, while the Sephardic Jewish groups of Montreal, originally from Morocco and Algeria, speak French due to the French influence in their home countries, the rest of the Jewish community is largely English-speaking. Even in Outremont and Mile End, which are traditionally areas of large Francophone populations, the Jewish community speaks Yiddish and English, not French, which has caused misunderstanding and difficulty between the Jewish community and others in the area.






Overall, the trip was very nice and impressive. Montreal is definitely one of the nicest and interesting cities I have visited, and takes a high place on my list of favorites.

Lean Forward to the Next Crazy Venture

The summers in Boro Park are empty. Everyone flees from Brooklyn to the Catskills, and with them goes the excitement and the pace of city life. Luckily, one has music and books to distract from the lack of entertainment on the streets. For me, this means a renewed love of Kafka.

Even with this reading to distract me, the summers always make me feel like I am sitting and waiting. I can't help but get the sense that I'm on the edge of something great, but something that isn't quite revealed at the present time. Maybe this is because summers have always been the time when the world comes to a complete stand still; no duties, no burdens, simply sitting and relaxing all day. This "no duties, no burdens" is exactly what bothers me, though. Sitting around is much more tiring than doing something, that's for sure. Luckily, I will be going to Montreal on Sunday afternoon, and will hopefully move about to kill this boredom.

The Ongoing Wow

After much thought and contemplation, I decided to return to America, at least for the current time. When that "current time" ends is anyone's guess. Of course, my last moments walking around Yerushalayim (Jerusalem) still move through my veins, as Israel is not a place that one can forget. In fact, according to Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, eventhough I left Yerushalayim, I am closer than ever. He used to say, "Everywhere I go, I am going to Jerusalem," meaning that in every corner of the world in which a Jew finds himself, he is there to do his unique job in that unique space in order to bring the world one step closer to completion, redemption, and the time when we will finally all live in the new, real Jerusalem.

So, for now, I find myself heading toward Jerusalem in America. While learning is something that I truly enjoy, my need for action has gotten the better of me. Having spent my first week back in New York, I am visiting my father for his birthday. My visit this time has proven to be more relaxing and enjoyable, and I don't feel as out of place. Perhaps I am coming more into myself, being able to be myself wherever I happen to be at the moment.


Upon my return to New York, I will start to look through the job opportunities that I found the last few weeks of being in Israel. Ever since I can remember, my aspiration has been to work in a profession where I feel myself making a difference in the world, and hopefully I will find myself working in such a job. I always feel the need to move around and get meaning out of everything in life, add to life, and try to find something new.

During my last few days in Israel, I really think that I got to that place where I was in love with everything that was swirling around me. I began to really stop and appreciate things, and recognize that my life was made up of, as Speed Levitch says, "moments flabergasted to be in each other's presence." However, my hunger and need to experience do not let me sit in one place for too long. It seems that each new place I see, I see a new part of myself. Interestingly, the Yalkut Shimoni (an homiletic telling and explanation of the Torah) says that this is exactly the case. In explaining the creation of man, the Yalkut Shimoni says that G-d gathered dust from the four corners of the world, and everywhere in between, in order to form humanity. And through this, relates the Yalkut, "every place a person walks, from there he was created, and to there shall he return." To me, this validates travel and life experience as part of true religious awakening, which is an infinitely motivating idea. Ahh, emes is good...


I once had a discussion with a man in a bank who simply could not understand a religious experience that didn't revolve around begging G-d for things like A's on tests, lottery winnings, and that your most coveted item at the mall soon goes on sale. I, on the other hand, couldn't fathom a religious experience that included such things. To me, Judaism has never been about finding a cure for life, or ways to escape reality, simply wasting time until some day comes in the future when you're "off to a better place." I've always felt that Judaism was much more honest than that. It's not escaping reality, but engaging in life head on, wrestling with angels and men to bring out the divinity in every place at every instant, knowing that that "better place" isn't found in a new location, but in a deeper understanding of the actuality of the here and now. Judaism doesn't seek to run away from physicality, but elevate it, transforming it by doing mitzvos that connect all planes and times of existence to reveal the hester panim (hidden face of G-d) residing behind creation. When that's the focus of your life, who has time for all the competition and begging? You're a partner with the Ribbono Shel Olam (Master of the Universe) in the continued creation and reparation of the world! That's always been the point of Judaism, and life in general, to me. So, for now, I guess I'm off to keep finding myself in places where I've never been, meeting G-d on new street corners, repairing little parts of creation, each step treading closer and closer to Jerusalem.

Slow and Steady

Yesterday afternoon as I was hurrying off to get lunch, I was stopped at the corner by an elderly man. The man, as I recognized, was the gabbai (person in charge of the inner-workings) of the Gr"a Synagogue in my neighborhood. Being very old and unsteady, he asked me if I would help him make it across the street, and then to the door of the synagogue. Of course, I said that I would help him, and I walked with him arm-in-arm across the street. As we got closer to the synagogue, a car pulled up behind us, and in an attempt to rush us or move us, began to blow the horn. Immediately, I attempted to move out of the way, trying to lead the gabbai onto the sidewalk. He refused, and after asking me if I understood English, told me, "Slow and steady".

After helping the man reach his destination, I started thinking about what he told me: slow and steady. As I walked to lunch, I began to look around much more, stopping to see things that I might have missed previously. Ahead of me, a woman also stopped at each small garden, pressing her nose into the flowers surrounding each gate. The rest of the day, I tried to do everything and say everything with much more intent and concentration. Walking, eating, and praying especially, are much more meaningful that way.


This morning, as with last night, I prayed more slowly than usual, concentrating on the words that I was reading, and thinking more about what they meant. That's the wonderful thing about Hebrew. No matter how many times you've read a text, or how obvious the meaning seems to be, you can always make a new connection, definition, or understanding, whether through proximity, spelling difference, numerical value...there's always something new to find.

This is true of everything. Within the legal times for prayers, the earliest time that one is allowed to pray the morning prayer is after a time called "Mi SheYakir". This is when there is enough natural light, or should be enough natural light, to recognize the face of an acquaintance at the distance of four cubits. Knowing this halacha (law) I never thought more about it, until when I recently read an interesting lesson on the particular zman (time).


The story goes that a rabbi onced asked his students how one could tell that the night had ended and the day had begun. "Perhaps," one suggested, "it is when you can see an animal in the distance and determine whether it is a sheep or a dog." However, the rabbi answered that this was not the determinant. "Could it be," asked another, "that it is when you can see a tree in the distance and tell whether it is a fig tree or a peach tree?" Again, the rabbi answered that this was not how to tell when the night had ended. Finally, after all had suggested their own idea, they demanded that the rabbi tell them the answer. The rabbi looked at his students and said, "It is when you can look at the face of a man or woman and see your brother or your sister. Because if you cannot see this, then it is still night."