“At the wedding of the son of Reb Avraham Yaakov of Sadigora to the daughter of Reb Zvi HaKohen of Rimanov, the groom’s grandfather, Reb Yisrael of Ruzhin, stood up and said to the father of the bride: ‘Let me share with you the yichus (Yiddish, literally ‘good blood’) of our family. My great-grandfather was Reb Dov Ber; my grandfather was his son, Reb Avraham, who was called the Angel; my great-uncle was Reb Nachum of Chernobyl; and my uncle was his son, Reb Mordechai of Chernobyl. So, my dear friend, please share with us your lineage.’
‘My parents died when I was ten years of age,’ Reb Zvi said softly. ‘I did not know them well enough to tell you anything about them other than that they were righteous and god-hearted people. After their deaths, a relative apprenticed me to a tailor, for whom I worked for five years. It was during that time that I learned two rules by which I have governed my life: Do not spoil anything new, and fix anything old.’
With that, the groom’s grandfather leaped to his feet, shouting joyously: ‘This is a marriage of two great lineages. These children are doubly blessed!'”
Do not spoil anything new. Fix anything old. Two simple rules to live by. But how often do we truly embrace these precepts?
Do not spoil anything new. When you go into a new situation, how do you treat it? New experiences in life? New people that we meet? By human nature, we try to draw connections between things. But how do we act when something comes up again? And again? Or a similar situation? Do we act with fear? Do we dilute the course of action out of uncertainty? Do we slowly test the water, one toe at a time, at risk of missing a potential opportunity? Or do we jump in? Throw caution to the wind? Embrace the new situation and the uncertainty that comes with it? Every situation is different. But, like a baby trying to grow into an independent person, or a sapling growing into a tree, the more we spoil the things around us, the harder it is for the new things to grow into fully functioning beings, so that one day we can enjoy their fruit.
Fix anything old. Think of your first friend. Or your oldest friend. Are you still in contact with them? Do you take the time to build into their life, and to spend time together? Do you even talk to them? When things get old and stagnant, they are in need of fixing if we wish to build and continue to maintain a relation with them. This goes for relationships, houses, synagogues, Judaism, really anything in life. In order for anything to function the same was as it did when it was young, it needs to be updated, fixed, and then maintained to stay working at a high level.
My blessing for you all this Shabbos is to embrace new things, and to fix old things in life in need of repair. Start small, and keep building. Not only will it make you more content, it might lead to some pretty good stories and opportunities.
Shabbat Shalom,
SB
Here’s to fixing the holes in your live, to keep your mind from wandering!
(Story adapted from “Hasidic Tales” by Rabbi Rami Shapiro)
“Try as he might, Reb Dovid found it impossible to be on time. It always happened that he either overslept or became sidetracked and forgot about his meetings.
At last Reb Dovid came to Reb Zalman about it. Reb Zalman was very curious to know why Reb Dovid was unable to overcome this flaw, so he sent up a dream question about it, and that night he learned in a dream that Reb Dovid’s soul had always known this affliction. In fact, in a previous life he had even come late to his place at Mount Sinai. For when the Holy One had apportioned time to souls, a playful angel had taken a hundred and one minutes from him and given them to another soul, one that always came to be too early.
So it was that in subsequent lives, despite all efforts to correct this flaw, Reb Dovid’s soul had continued to suffer from it. In some lives he had served as a soldier, who had been punished for not being able to follow orders on time. In other lives, when he had been a woman, he had missed the time to light the candles and as a result had desecrated the Sabbath. Thus when Reb Zalman awoke and recalled this dream, he recognized that Reb Dovid’s flaw, which had haunted him since the time of the creation of his soul, would not be a simple one to eliminate. And Reb Zalman gave the matter much thought, but he could not think of a way to restore to Reb Dovid’s soul the hundred and one minutes the angle had robbed him of.
Reb Zalman continued to meditate on this matter, and meanwhile Reb Dovid suffered from his flaw, saying his prayers late, after the stars had appeared, and having his matzos condemned because they reached the oven too late. These failings caused Reb Dovid great pain, for they were completely unintentional. And the scoldings he got did not help, because of his soul’s disposition to tardiness.
The next time Reb Dovid came to Reb Zalman with this problem, Reb Zalman told him that he could not help him in any direct way, and Reb Dovid was so distraught that he forgot to give Reb Zalman a message from Reb Levi of Ludmir, inviting Reb Zalman to serve as the mohel at the bris of his newborn son. Only once he was on his way did Reb Dovid remember this message. Then he pleaded with the coachman to turn back, and after he promised to pay additional fare the coach did return to Zholkiev. Once again Reb Dovid stood before Reb Zalman in tears, and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “I’m afraid I have done it again.” Then it was difficult for Reb Zalman to arrange things to leave with Reb Dovid at once, so Reb Zalman gave him the bag of the tools for the bris and told him to meet him at the home of Reb Levi in the morning. Then Reb Dovid assured Reb Zalman that he would let Reb Levi know that he was coming, and would have everything there on time the next day.
Reb Zalman took the coach early the next morning after Shaharis, and hurried to Ludmir. But when he arrived he was not met by Reb Levi or someone from his household as he had expected. At last, with the aid of some children Reb Zalman found his way to Reb Levi’s house, where he saw the strained patience on the faces of those present, but no Reb Dovid with the bag of instruments for the circumcision. This time Reb Zalman too felt anger at Reb Dovid rising in him, and he explained that he could not go on with the bris until Reb Dovid arrived.
Then someone left to fetch Reb Dovid and found him asleep. He woke him, got Reb Zalman’s bag and asked Reb Dovid to hurry for he too was needed for the bris. Meanwhile , at Reb Levi’s house, they began making preparations for the bris. The table was set and Reb Zalman began to chant to invite Elijah to join them. Suddenly Reb Dovid entered and the air was charged, and Reb Zalman realized that it was not right to proceed with the bris while so much anger was in the air. So he turned to Reb Dovid and said: “Before we can complete the covenant of the bris, we must remove the taint of anger that hangs in the air, so that will not cling to the moment of the child’s covenant. Therefore I must ask you to lie face down on the circumcision table.” Reb Dovid and the others were amazed at these words, but Reb Dovid did not resist, and did as Reb Zalman had said.
Then Reb Zalman turned to the others present there and said: “Let those who felt anger toward Reb Dovid, as I did, come forward and place your hands on his back. Instead of scolding him we will put the power of our anger at the disposal of his soul. For does he himself not scold himself enough as it is? For know that his soul is innocent of the failing, and longs to be on time. What is needed is that each of us give his soul a few minutes of our lives, so that it may have restored to in the time that was snatched away so long ago.”
And although the others present did not understand what Reb Zalman meant, still each and every one came forward and placed their hands on Reb Dovid’s back, and in this way each of them gave him a few moments of their lives. And Reb Dovid wept without ceasing, for in all his lives he had not been met with so much love. And after that Reb Dovid no longer had a problem with time, but arrived promptly everywhere, and became known as one who could be fully depended upon. As for the child, the love and warmth present at the time of his bris made the seal of the blessing of the covenant so strong that it could never be broken, and his love and loyalty to his heritage and to the Holy One Himself, blessed be He, never wavered.”
Love is a powerful tool. It can break down barriers. It can transform souls. It can change lives.
Throughout Reb Dovid’s life, he had been scolded for his tardiness. Imagine, for a moment, the thoughts that would be going through Reb Dovid’s head every moment of the day. The constant obsession over being on time, the things he would need to do. And then the constant disappointment when he was unable to complete his acts on time. Add to it the hatred and scoldings of others who relied upon him for timeliness.
But the joy he must have felt in that moment, when for the first time in his life he felt pure love, and just from a simple touch. The power of a touch, of a kiss, of knowing that someone has your back no matter what, is transformative. More so than a hundred insults and a million screams. Nothing is more powerful than true and uncompromising love.
“Love your neighbor as yourself” is more than just statement. It’s a way of life that we don’t always truly comprehend. What does it mean to truly love yourself or those closest to you? What would you do for them? Would you do that for your neighbor? Someone you don’t know too well? A complete stranger?
This Shabbos, my blessing is that we open our hearts to at least one person. We may not be able to see the change it makes, but like a seed planted on Tu B’shvat, it can grow into a big and glorious tree.
Shabbat Shalom,
SB
Playing for Change brings together musicians across the world to bring change to the world. This is “One Love”, by Bob Marley
“All mankind will pass before You like members of the flock. Like a shepherd pasturing his flock, making sheep pass under his staff, so shall You cause to pass, count, calculate, and consider the soul of all the living; and You shall apportion the fixed needs of all Your creatures and inscribe their verdict.” -U’Netaneh Tokef Prayer (translation from ArtScroll Rosh Hashanah Mahzor)
The above image is a powerful one. Imagine looking down from a birds-eye view at a big long line, just close enough so you can make out the actions of each person in line. Each person in line is a live snap shot of the place they are in now, whatever they’re doing, in real time. Looking closely, one person is sitting down, playing with their kid. Another is davening, and another is helping an older person to cross the street. Another is throwing some trash on the ground. A lady is arguing with her husband. A father is hitting his child. All of it can be seen, and is seen. All of it viewed from above, simultaneously.
God counts everyone, and knows them by name. God knows if they’ve been naughty or nice, sinned or performed mitzvot. And God records it all in a book.
The above image serves as a powerful reminder that God is always around us and is always watching. God is a part of us, apart of everyone else, and apart of everything else. And what we have, or don’t have in life, all depends on God. It can take only a moment for us to lose everything, or gain everything.
It all starts by how we treat others in this world. Rabbi Hillel once said, when asked to summarize the Torah while standing on one foot, that the Torah teaches to “Love your neighbor as yourself. The rest is mere commentary. Now go and learn.”
What does this mean? Treat others the way we want to be treated? Sure, maybe that’s part of it, and that’s a good start, but that is not the whole. We are made to naturally be selfish in life, to have our own needs and wants, and to put our own well being before anyone else’s. When we are able to love our neighbor, and even more so the stranger, as much as we love ourselves, we will have realized the purpose of Torah, and life. And it’s not easy to do. How do we justify giving something of our own to another, a stranger, a beggar on the street, when we believe they’re not going to use it to make this world, their world, our world, a better place?
I like to imagine the people I come across are my best friends, or the people I care about the most, or my family (non-exclusive, by the way). Would I not give some food to a friend who is in need of a meal, or money to someone I love, to help them get back on their feet? Would I not lend time and moral support to those I love and care about? These things are easy to do for those closest to us. Harder to do for those we’ve never met. But yet we must try. Try because the world we live in is not just our world, it’s their world too, and they exist in our world. Pretending they’re not there doesn’t make them go away. It makes the problem worse.
Where to start? Anywhere. Pick somewhere. Give someone a few bucks. Console the person crying on the bus next to you. Congratulate a stranger or a random acquaintance on something you enjoyed that they did. Lift up someone’s day. Do anything that helps bring a little more light into this world.
On Rosh Hashanah it is written, and on Yom Kippur, it is sealed. Which book do you want to be in?
“Rabbi Mendel Futerfass spent several years of his life in a Soviet labor camp. He later related that one of the ways that he kept his sanity was to constantly engage his mind in the Chassidic practice, set forth by Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov, that “From everything that a person sees or hears, he should derive a lesson in his service of G-d.” Some very profound insights came from some very unusual teachers.
For instance, one of the prisoners claimed to be a tightrope walker.
Reb Mendel didn’t believe him because he couldn’t imagine why a person would waste his time walking on a rope and risk falling on his head, when he could just walk on the ground like everyone else. But when the evil Stalin died and the government eased up the pressure on the camps, some of the inmates decided to make a celebration and the tightrope walker saw his chance to prove himself.
He found a long thick rope somewhere in the camp, attached it to the side of a building about ten feet above the ground, stretched it to another building about fifteen yards away and attached it there at the same height. For a long time he was up on a ladder pulling, testing and fastening until everything was finally ready.
A crowd gathered around. The man removed his shoes and gingerly but unceremoniously climbed up the ladder onto the rope.
Reb Mendel was one of the first to get interested, and he explained what happened:
“First he climbed up onto the rope, took a few steps, lost his balance and fell. But he knew how to fall, like a cat. He waited a few seconds and climbed up again and fell again the same way. But eventually he started walking, and then dancing from one foot to the other to the rhythm of the clapping onlookers.
“Then he got to the end, turned around, danced back to where he started, and climbed down amidst the applause and cheering of the crowd.
“After shaking everyone’s hand he walked over to me and said with a satisfied smile on his face. ‘Well Rabbi, what do you think now?’
“I told him I was impressed, but I couldn’t help wondering how he did it. How could he walk on such a thin rope without falling off? After much prompting he finally revealed his secret. ‘I fix my eye on where I’m going,’ he said, ‘and never even think about falling’.
“He waited a few seconds for me to digest the answer, and then said: ‘Do you know what was the hardest part? Turning around! When you turn around you lose sight of the goal for a second. It takes a long time to learn to turn around!'””
Do you have goals in life? Values that you live by? How much do you pay attention to these goals when making a decision?
The tightrope walker in this story teaches us a very important lesson: When we keep our eye focused on our goals and are confident in what we are doing, and we embrace the possibility of failure but do not let it deter us, we can be successful and ultimately will be successful. That’s not to say we won’t fall down sometimes, but when we take our failures with grace, learn from them, and try again, we can achieve or goals.
There’s another important lesson that this story teaches us at the end. When we lose sight of our goal, it takes a long time to turn around! Think about it. When you are multi-tasking, how much time do you spend trying to switch your mind from one task to the other? Do you need to refocus? Re-read sentences? Start your thinking over again to continue? When we focus on our goals, it saves us the hassle of having to turn around constantly, dizzying ourselves in the process and causing us to fall down.
However, I would add a caution: Don’t be too focused on your goals not to enjoy and embrace what happens in this moment around you. Not only is the destination important, but the journey is as well. We end up missing a lot of life and a lot of opportunities when all we can see is the end line.
So this Shabbos, my blessing is that we can all find balance between our goals and enjoying the present moment. And if you don’t have goals yet in life, you should probably come up with a few.
A tragedy occurred yesterday. At 4:25 p.m, a disgruntled former employee entered the Accent Signage Systems building and opened fire on the employees inside. Having been fired earlier that day, the employee came back looking for revenge. By the time he was done, five lives had been taken, including his own, with one more dying in the hospital earlier today (to learn more, click here).
When tragedies like this happen in other places, we are stunned certainly, but the shock often turns to ambivalence, “it’s just another one of those stories.” But when a tragedy of this magnitude hits so close to home, it makes you think.
One of people murdered yesterday was the owner and founder of the company, Reuven Rahamim. He was also the father of a kid I grew up with. A few years younger than me, he went to the Minneapolis Jewish Day School and is involved at Beth El Synagogue, same as me. While I didn’t know Reuven too well, I certainly saw him around the community, and I know that his family and our community will be forever changed.
But like I said earlier, things like this make you think. What if that was me in there? My father, mother, grandpa, anyone I care about? How would our lives change? How could I live?
Fresh off the Jewish New Year of Rosh Hashanah, we just spent a full day simulating our deaths: not eating, drinking, or taking care of ourselves in any way (to see a meaningful article about the purpose of fasting on Yom Kippur, see here). We do this so we can regain an appreciation for the things that really matter in life. We spend time with family, celebrate, apologize to everyone and anyone, pour our hearts out to God, remember those who we’ve lost, and overall remember that though the presence of death always hangs over us, we can use that knowledge to live our lives to the fullest.
Who shall live and who shall die? We often think about this abstractly. “Of course people will die.” We think of our lives as merely a midpoint, with so much more to go. But what if death comes tomorrow? Or in a week? Or a year? Who would you spend time with? What would you say? What would you do? How would you act?
Rabbi Eliezer teaches in Pikei Avot 2.15 to “repent one day before your death.” How do we know a day before we die? The answer is we don’t. So repent everyday. But I say not only repent everyday, but LIVE EVERYDAY. Live life to the fullest. Live up to what you are made to be.
While all of this can be a cause for despair, it can also be a cause for life. We can choose to change how we live so we always have an appreciation for life, or we can sink into eternal whys? and other depressing thoughts that send us into the slums. Take the opportunity today to review your life, and see how your life needs changing. Are you really living up to your purpose? And most importantly, are you helping others to live life and see the blessings and miracles around you? This new year, let’s choose to remember, and to live with a fresh perspective on life.
May the memory of all who died be a blessing for us all, and may we grow stronger for having gone through this terrible tragedy together.
Shabbat Shalom.
-SB
We take our mourning, and turn the memory of it into a cause for joy: dancing.
Today’s story is the rarely known story of the Bulgarian Jews during the Holocaust. Unlike the fate of many of their European brethren, a few non-Jews made a huge difference in the outcome of Bulgaria’s Jews and ended up saving all 50,000 of them.
Check out the story as told by Hillel Director Sarah Routman on TCJewfolk.
“During his stay in Mezritch, the Rabbi of Kolbashow saw an old man come to the Great Maggid (Rabbi Dov Ber) and ask him to impose penance on him for his sins. ‘Go home,’ said the Maggid. ‘Write all your sins down on a slip of paper and bring it to me.’ When the man brought him the list, he merely glanced at it and he said, ‘Go home. All is well.’ But later the rav observed that Rabbi Ber read the list and laughed at every line. This annoyed him. How could anyone laugh at sins!
For years he could not forget the incident, until once he heard someone quote a saying of the Ba’al Shem: ‘It is well-known that no one commits a sin unless the spirit of folly possesses him. But what does the sage do if a fool comes to him? He laughs at all this folly, and while he laughs, a breath of gentleness is wafted through the world. What was rigid, thaws, and what was a burden comes light.’ The rav reflected. In his soul he said: ‘Now I understand the laughter of the Holy Maggid.”
We all do things that we’re not proud of. We’ve all been recipients of things that others aren’t proud of. And now that we’ve been forgiven for our shortcoming by our family, friends, strangers, and the big guy upstairs, we have the opportunity to start a new. But how do we avoid making those same mistakes again this year, and how do we deal with them we they pop up again?
The Ba’al Shem Tov teaches us how we should act, and the Maggid shows us to do so. When we run into situations that we don’t like, we can decide, as we say in the camping world, to “choose our attitude.” In these cases, we can choose to take things personally, as an attack on ourselves and on our pride, or we can laugh them off, like Rabbi Ber. Notice as well, that Rabbi Ber waits until after the man leaves to laugh, so as not to embarrass him.
Clearly, these two sages had the same opinion on this issue. Take responsibility for what we have done. Life can be funny and irrational. And treat the world with a smile and a kind face. We don’t get to choose what happens to us in life. But we do get to decide how we respond; We can be proactive or we can be reactive.
Not only did our Rabbi’s know the power of laughter hundreds of years ago, but modern day science has proven that people who laugh more actually live longer. Maybe it’s because they’re not as stressed about what people think about them, and they’re not worrying about the affect of other’s actions, but instead laugh about them?
My blessing for everyone this Shabbas is that we take control of our lives, starting with ourselves. Let’s all become more self conscious of our reactions to events and how those reactions control our actions.
Shabbat Shalom,
SB
Here’s the “Laughing Song” for your weekend enjoyment.
(Story taken from “Ideas and Ideals of the Hassidim” by Dr. Milton Aron, p. 48, which was taken from Buber’s Tales of the Hasidim, Early Masters, p. 109.)
