“Reb Yisrael of Ruzhin paid a surprise visit to his Hasidim and found them sitting around a table, idly eating and drinking. The rebbe frowned, clearly disappointed at the actions of his students.
One among them stood and said, ‘Rebbe, I heard Reb Pinchas of Korets once say that a gathering such as this- Hasidim reveling in friendship- could be likened to the mitzvah of Torah study.’
Reb Yisrael said, ‘I would not think to contradict Reb Pinchas, but the analogy depends on how the thing is done.’
‘But all we are doing is talking and eating,’ another student said. ‘As long as we recite the proper prayer, how can we do this incorrectly?’
Reb Yisrael replied, ‘It is a matter of intention. If you place yourself last that others may go first, then your act is selfless and holy. If you place yourself first, it is selfish and smacks of idolatry. If you do something for another or for God with no thought of reward or gain, you are hallowing the deed and uplifting the act. In that case, our action is holy. When you do something to further your own ends, you are debasing the deed and concealing the Divine. In that case, your action is sinful.’
Still not satisfied, the Hasid said, ‘Rebbe, what if my action is itself sinful but my intention is pure? What if, heaven forbid, I speak ill of another to save a friend from being hurt. Is that a sin or not?’
‘Intention is everything,’ Reb Yisrael said. ‘If your intention is for the sake of heaven-that is, if it is for the good of the other and not to benefit yourself- even a sinful act can reveal the Light of God.'”
Looking for a story this week, I stumbled across this one which I thought would be appropriate given the current unrest between Israel and Gaza. According to Reb Yisrael, intention is everything. If you are acting intentionally in the service of God, and performing truly selfless acts, then even if what you’re doing isn’t 100% moral or correct, it can still be in service to a larger good and some good can come of it.
Things happen in war. War itself isn’t a good thing. But if peace can come about through war, then maybe it is worth it. Since Israel’s pull out of the Gaza strip, Israelis surrounding Gaza have lived in constant fear of missile attacks.
Is the cost worth it? I don’t know. Many people will and have died on both sides, and many of them are innocent people. One life honestly is too many.
Golda Meir Z”L once said: “When peace comes, we will perhaps in time be able to forgive the Arabs for killing our sons, but it will be harder for us to forgive them for having forced us to kill their sons.”
Israelis take life very seriously, on both sides. But how long can Israelis live in fear? Isn’t one of the purposes of a Jewish State to protect Jews around the world from harm from its enemies? How can we do that if we can’t even protect those living within our borders?
War is never easy. In the Jewish community, it is never depersonalized. Everyone knows someone who is fighting. Someone who is putting their life on the line to preserve the Jewish State. Our Jewish State.
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. And in some parts of Israel and Gaza right now, it certainly is hell.
My prayer is that all who are protecting the State of Israel will come home safely, and that someday peace will com. And may it be a lasting peace, where Jews, Muslims, Christians, and people of all faiths can coexist in this world together peacefully.
Shavuah tov,
SB
(Story taken from “Hasidic Tales”, by Rabbi Rami Shapiro)
“Reb Yaakov Shimshon of Kosov loved to share with his students the stories of the great rebbes and their Hasidim. It once happened after morning prayer that the rebbe began to tell one story after another without stopping. He and his Hasidim were lifted to such a state of divine bliss that they stepped out of time. The day passed, and it wasn’t until late in the afternoon that the rebbe told his final tale.
Slowly, Reb Yaakov and his disciples returned to the needs of the everyday world and realized that they had eaten neither breakfast nor lunch. One of the students stood up and honored his rebbe, saying: ‘Until this moment, rebbe, I did not really understand Moshe Rabbeinu when he said that while on Mount Sinai he ate no break and drank no water. Now I know what it is like to be filled with the very Presence of God and to fell no further need to eat or drink.’
Reb Yaakov nodded his appreciation to his student and said, ‘Your interpretation is a worthy one, my son, but perhaps Moshe was not celebrating his transcendence of food and drink, but regretting it? We know that everything in this world contains a spark of the Divine and that only when a thing is used properly is this spark uplifted and repaired to God, from Whom it came. This is no less true of food and drink than it is of books and tools. Moshe realized that in those forty days on Mount Sinai he neither ate nor drank and thus failed to uplift the divine sparks in his break and water. In the World to Come, these sparks will complain to the Holy One that Moshe did them a grave disservice by putting his own love of God before their liberation.”
With Thanksgiving just having passed, this lesson of Reb Yaakov speaks loudly to our current consciousness. Everything in this world, animate or not, has a purpose in this world, a spark of divine nature to be released back to the heavens.
With that knowledge, we should be thankful and appreciative of everything that passes through our lives, as they are opportunities to release God’s sparks from their entrapment. When we treat all of these opportunities with a thankful mind and an open heart, they can truly be transformative experiences, not only for the receiver, but for both parties involved. You know this is true when you think about the times you’ve decided to have a positive attitude about something, and it ended up being much better than you thought it would be.
This Shabbos, put a smile on your face and bring to every moment a thankful and appreciative attitude. You’ll come out the better for it.
Shabbat Shalom,
SB
(Story taken from “Hasidic Tales” by Rabbi Rami Shapiro)
This sermon is adapted from a sermon I wrote about Parsha Vayishlah
Why should I be Jewish? What does being Jewish mean to me? What’s the point?
Questions like these have been asked by Jews young and old across the world for thousands of years. Chances are you’ve asked yourself those questions at some point in your life, if not everyday. Everyone seems to have their own answers. Some people will tell you that my way is right, and your way is wrong. In the end, is anyone really right?
I may be more observant than some of your reading this blog. And then again I may be much less observant than you. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t struggle with the same questions of faith and belief, and of purpose, that every single one of us struggles with.
What if I’m leading people in the wrong direction? What if I’m wasting my life? I’m afraid of the thought of a Godless world, where no true Justice exists. Are we governed by Darwin’s laws of survival of the fittest? Is every person for themselves?
Now, you might say that there are people that stand for good and who live for the good of others without any thought of God. And I say that that’s true. But whose Truth is it? Is it a truth that’s 15, 20, 70 years old? Or is it a Truth that’s lasted for more than 3000 years?
So I choose the time tested Truth that has guided our people for thousands of years. The Truth that has toppled regimes, outlasted even the most powerful of empires, and that still thrives today. That Truth is the Truth of Torah and the lessons we can learn from its stories.
We are a people that are given great responsibilities. We are social people. Religious people. Just people. Caring people. And we stick together, for better or worse. And therein lies our strength.
Last week, we read the story of Jacob wrestling with an angel. For those unfamiliar with it, the Torah says that one night, as Jacob’s brother Esau was getting ready to confront him after many years of separation, Jacob, alone, comes across a man. He struggles with the man all night. In the struggle, the man wounds Jacob’s thigh, but they continue to struggle until daybreak, when the man tells Jacob that he needs to go. Jacob refuses, asking first for a blessing, realizing that this was a Godly being. The man blesses him, and gives him the name Yisrael, for he struggled with God.
But what if this interpretation isn’t correct? What if the way we’ve been looking at this story for so long isn’t the only way to interpret it?
I find it hard to believe that Jacob didn’t know he was wrestling with an angel. I think that it would be quite obvious. But even if he didn’t know, is that any way to treat a stranger? Rabbi Akiva taught that the whole Torah could be summed by the phrase “love your neighbor as yourself”. Avraham Avinu ran to greet his guests even though it caused him discomfort. He advocated on behalf of cities to prevent them from being destroyed. And he certainly didn’t try to tackle them.
So there must be another reason. A common theme for struggle in Jewish teaching is our struggle against our yetzer ra, or our evil inclination. This is the voice inside our head that talks us out of doing things that we know we should do, and convinces us to do things that we know we shouldn’t do (for example, it’s the voice that convinces us to stay in our warm, cozy bed when we know we should be getting up and doing things). What if Jacob isn’t wrestling with God, but instead is wrestling against his own yetzer ra? How do I come to this conclusion? Let’s take a look at the symbolism behind this story, because the Torah is never as it seems.
Jacob, being human, represents the earth and the physical, while the “angel” is an agent of God and represents the heavenly. If one of the purposes of Judaism is to become more God-like and holy, then why does Jacob resist this? He resists because he knows that it is not God with whom he wrestles, but his own inner demons. And only through struggle can he become closer to God.
The struggle starts when it is dark out, and when Jacob is alone, left only with his thoughts. He thinks about the possibility of confrontation with his brother, and his own fears and apprehensions at returning home. So he decides to wage war, right then and there, against his yetzer ra.
Jacob gets hurt, but continues to fight, showing us that no matter how hurt we may be, or how damaged our thoughts and psyche may be because of our evil inclinations, we should not give up that fight to transform those thoughts that may be holding us back. Instead, we can transform those thoughts into light that can be used to pass those tests that we so frequently have in life.
As the sun begins to rise on their battle, the yetzer ra knows that for now Jacob has won, and asks to be released. But just like the rising and setting of the sun, the yetzer ra knows that the time will come again when it will wage battle, kind of like in the song “The Devil Went Down To Georgia” (see below).
But Jacob wasn’t content with just a victory. He wanted a more definitive statement. He wanted a blessing. And by receiving a blessing from the purest form of evil, he revealed an enormous amount of light to the world. He revealed so much light that he named the place Peniel, “for I have seen God face to face, and my nefesh (soul) is preserved.”
The “man” ends up granting Jacob his blessing, and gives him the name Yisrael. Therefore, we are not necessarily “struggling with God”, but we are actually “struggling for God,” or “struggling towards God.” If a name can define a person’s purpose in life, than we as Am Yisrael, the nation of Yisrael, are also defined by this name. So maybe our purpose as Am Yisrael is not only to struggle with God, but to struggle against the yezter ra to become more holy beings. My purpose is to be the best “I” I can be. And that’s your purpose too.
Growing up, we are never at a lack for new experiences. We begin our lives completely dependent on others for survival, and as we grow we gain more and more independence. And around the time we go off to college, we’re finally out from the watchful eye of our parents and our family. We discover and explore who we are, and how we fit into this world of ours. How can we achieve our dreams? And how much Judaism do we want in our lives?
As we learn in the story of Jacob, Judaism isn’t a take and receive religion. It’s a religion of struggle, a contact sport. Things happen that knock us down. Sometimes we get our mind blown. Sometimes we doubt the presence of any God at all.
And at the other end, sometimes there are other experiences that leave us in awe. Experiences where the divine is the only explanation. Experiences where we feel so small in this awe inspiring world, and yet so large and loved at the same time.
There are always ups and downs in life. But Judaism can be that stabilizer, that rock that grounds you. And it can also be the wings that send you soaring up to the gates of Heaven. And it can be both at the same time. Like Yisrael, it requires sacrifice, and it can be quite painful. But it’s all about the investment you put into Judaism.
What speaks to you? Do you like helping others? Do you want a tight community that watches over one another? Are you looking for the faith to sustain you throughout life? The amazing thing about Judaism is that there is something that can appeal to everyone.
When life gets confusing, and you don’t know which way to turn, sometimes the best course of action is just to throw yourself in. Find yourself a teacher. Get yourself a friend. And struggle.
The Jewish people are defined by struggle, and never has that been more true in the case of Hanukkah, when we fought for the freedom to worship and to live in the way that has become so special to our people.
This Hanukkah, while you may might want nothing more than answers, I encourage you to never stop struggling. Because the light that your menorah gives off, is really your light shining forth.
Hag Sameyach,
SB
Enjoy “Devil Went Down To Georgia”.
And check out my Hanukkah Remix from a few years back:
“The Rabbi of Kotzk had some prestigious guests over to his house. Suddenly, he turns to them and asks, ‘Where does G-d dwell?’
The guests chuckle, thinking the answer is obvious. ‘That’s easy,’ they reply, ‘Doesn’t G-d dwell everywhere?’
A smirk comes to the Rabbi’s face, and he replies, ‘G-d only dwells where we let G-d in.'”
A few nights ago, I attended a seminar entitled “When Jewish Education Fails.” The panel of speakers talked about their experiences with Jewish education, and particularly what we need to do to correct some of their perceived issues.
Most interestingly for me was the discussion about Jewish camping and the great successes that camps have in fostering and helping to develop Jewish identity and pride. The question for me then was, what lessons can we take from Jewish summer camps to transform the way we teach and truly engage students?
At summer camps, campers are placed in their own little bubbles of Judaism, relatively isolated from the world. Everything they do is Judaism infused, and most of the time, they don’t even realize it. Jacob Cytron, director at Camp Ramah Wisconsin, describes it as a controlled area, where millions of little Jewish particles bombard campers at all times, like in a science experiment of sorts. In settings like this, campers live Jewishly and feel connected to Judaism at all times. Camps are places where G-d dwells.
Of the many great things that camp can teach us, I believe that constant G-dly presence is one of the most powerful and transformative experiences that we can have in our lives and that we can give to others. If a Jewish education takes place only in the Synagogue or at Hebrew school, or even only at camp, than we aren’t getting as full and as meaningful of a Jewish experience as we can be.
In order to create a full Jewish experience, it really starts in the home, and how we incorporate Judaism into our every day, and every moment. Parents need to instill their love of Judaism to their children, and create an environment where Judaism is truly important. But having been raised in a Jewish environment isn’t the be all and the end all. In the end, it’s up to each of us to decide what importance we want Judaism to have in our own life. Once we’ve decided that, we can take the steps we need to create and shape our lives according to our values. Only then does G-d truly dwell with us.
This Shabbos, my blessing is that we are all able to explore, embrace, and spread the Judaism that is so meaningful to us.
Shabbat Shalom,
SB
This is one of my favorite new songs, “Every Storm (Runs Out of Rain)” by Gary Allan. “Hold your head up and tell yourself that there’s something more. And walk out that door.”
Story adapted from a story in the High Holidays Mahzor
