As posted on March 15, 2012 by Sam Blustin on Soup for the Neshama

It’s good to have friends. Someone to lend a hand. They can be high, or low, or just a plain Joe Schmo. They’re here, they’re there, they can be anywhere. And indeed, it’s nice to have them everywhere.

A couple weeks ago I spent Shabbos at the B1G (Big Ten) Hillel Shabbaton hosted by the University of Illinois. Over 130 students took part in this amazing weekend of bonding, sharing, and general Purim festivities. We had spirited (and occasionally entertaining) services, wonderful meals, endless singing, and breakout sessions ranging from music, to the Holocaust, from outreach, to sex, led mainly by our peers, for our peers. Perhaps the most important thing I took from the weekend was the importance and the power of collaboration.

“Chassidic master Rabbi Mendel of Kotzk once referred to a certain rabbi as ah tzaddik in peltz — ‘a righteous person in a fur coat.’

The Kotzker explained: When it is winter and it’s freezing cold, there are two things one can do. One can build a fire, or one can wrap oneself in a fur coat. In both cases, the person is warm. But when one builds a fire, all who gather around will also be warmed. With the fur coat, the only one who is warmed is the one who wears the coat.”

As college students, we often think we know the answers to life’s mysteries. We think we have answers to every problem that our organizations face, and that we face in life. More often than not though, we don’t have the answers. We need the input and experience of others. We can’t do it alone.

Despite our differences in campus involvement, staff roles, money issues, and many other important factors, we were able to come together as a Jewish people who are involved and care about the future of Jewish life. We shared our experiences, our best practices, our issues with our organizations, and together created a framework for collaboration and sharing that has begun to tear apart the fur coats that we all wear and throw them into the fire of rich collaboration from which we will all be able to benefit from.

Separate, none of us have all the answers. But together, we can build, create, and use our combination of experiences to create lives, organizations, and experiences that will honestly and truly impact our own lives and those of the people around us.

To find out more about the work B1G Hillel is doing, tune into our Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/B1GHillel

Shabbat Shalom,

SB

The Playing For Change project takes people from all over the world to create some amazing music. Here’s one of their songs.

Story from the Kotzker Rebbe taken from http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/258534/jewish/A-Tzaddik-in-a-Fur-Coat.htm

As posted on October 19, 2012 by Sam Blustin on Soup for the Neshama

“Reb Shalom Ber of Lubavitch once took his family to a summer resort in the country. Going for a walk with his son and eventual successor, Reb Yosef Yitzchak, Reb Shalom pointed to the ears of corn covering the surrounding farmland.

‘Behold divinity!’ the rebbe said. ‘Each stalk of corn, and every movement it makes, is a manifestation of the mind of God. Creation is the thought of God expressed as the physicality of the world.’

Reb Yosef Yitzchak listened to his father’s words and soon found himself lost in the wondrous realization that this world, his body, and all bodies were expressions of God. As he walked, he brushed against a tree and plucked a leaf from its stem. Absentmindedly tearing the leaf into strips, he slipped deeper and deeper in joyous contemplation.

‘Yosef Yitzchak!’ the rebbe called to him sternly, breaking his son’s concentration and returning him to the world of their walk. ‘We are speaking of God manifest in creation, and here you rip a leaf from its place and destroy it for no reason at all. Do you imagine that this leaf has no purpose in this world but to sacrifice itself to your thoughtlessness? Is its ‘I’ of lesser value that your own? You are different, yes, but superior? No. Everything has its divinely directed purpose, and you have made it impossible for this leaf to achieve its reason for being.’

Reb Yosef Yitzchak was ashamed of his behavior. His father said: ‘Remorse is good. Now learn from it. For our sages say, ‘A person can do damage whether awake or asleep.””

Despite (or maybe because of) this story’s Lion King like sounding advice, this is one of my favorite stories. Why? Because there are so many lessons we can take from it.

One lessons we can learn is the value of being awake and present in our world. “Am I sleep walking through life?” “Dreaming of how life could be?” When we are asleep, or just going through the motions, we miss many of the opportunities that are out there in life for us to experience. When we obsess over the little things, or forget to count to count the blessings that are right in front of us, we miss opportunities to live life fully. The mind is a powerful tool, and how we look at the world can greatly affect the quality of our lives.

Not only must we be physically awake, but we have to be spiritually awake as well. “Can I see God manifest all around me, inside myself, in others, and even in inanimate objects?”, we might ask. The Torah says that God created man [people] in God’s image. If this is so, then it’s our responsibility to find that piece of Godliness in every single person. It’s up to us to nurture it, and help others develop into Godly beings. And part of being a Godly being is realizing that God is constantly present in our lives. God is in our food, the people around us, the interactions that we have, and God is even with us while we’re going to the bathroom.

But this story goes further. Not only are we supposed to treat others with dignity and respect, but we are supposed to extend this lesson to all things, animate or inanimate. If a measly leaf or a blade a grass is an extension of God, and we are supposed to treat it as such, how much more important is it that we treat others with respect, courtesy, and love?

And while those are all great lessons, there’s even a simpler lesson that I’d like all of us to consider as Shabbat begins and as we start a new week.

We live in a world where we are constantly on the run. We multitask with two, three, ten different activities. We use multiple laptops simultaneously, all while checking our email on our cell phones. We are always on call. But sometimes, we forget to stop and look around. We forget to enjoy what we have, to admire the little things that happen in life, and to just take a few minutes for ourselves to think. This is what Shabbat is for! So take some time to relax from the daily grind and enjoy the company of yourself, and the people around you.

This Shabbos, I encourage all of us to remember this story, and “behold divinity!” God is everywhere, in everything, and it’s really a beautiful thing.

Shabbat Shalom

-SB

There’s a time for everything in the world, and a purpose for it all.

(Story was taken from “Hasidic Tales” by Rabbi Rami Shapiro)

As posted on October 26, 2012 by Sam Blustin on Soup for the Neshama

I was listening a few weeks ago to an explanation of how Jason Mraz wrote his song “Life is Wonderful” (see below), and it got me thinking; What kind of questions in Judaism subscribe to the “which came first” paradox?

A couple of weeks later, while reading Daniel Gordis’ “God Was Not in the Fire”, I stumbled across a chicken and the egg question that I believe is a major stumbling block to Jewish involvement and continuance. The all important question? What comes first: belief in God/connection to Judasim or the performance of Jewish rituals?

I posed this question to a group of elementary age students at the synagogue where I work. I asked them first to define the two options, and then then to give their opinion on what comes first.

“What is belief in God, or connection to Judaism?” “What does it look like?” “How do we do it?” “Well, we pray to God,” one student answers. We also perform mitzvot, which are commanded by God, so we wouldn’t do them if we didn’t believe in God. We talk to God. Sometimes it’s just enough to know that God is there. Maybe we ask God for things. And we thank God. Maybe we believe in a higher purpose for our lives (okay, so maybe I threw that one in myself).

I then asked them, “What are Jewish rituals?” “When do we perform them?” “What do they look like?” The students’ answers were more forthcoming. One kid answered, “we light the candles on Shabbat!” Others talked about attending synagogue, kashrut, lighting the candles on Hanukkah, and they rattled off a list of other Jewish things that we do.

The final question was raised. “So then, what do you think comes first, belief in God or performing rituals?” A couple students chose one side, a few others shared why they thought it was the other, and then I gave them my thoughts on the issue.

I believe that belief in God necessarily means that you perform Jewish rituals. Simple as that. When we define belief in God, as demonstrated by the students, we define that connection by the rituals that we perform. We demonstrate our love for God by keeping the mitzvot, by praying to God, and by making God a part of our lives. It’s just that simple.

However, I know of very few people who just woke up one day and decided, “Hey, I think I’ll believe in God today,” and started to follow the mitzvot to a T. While there are some Ben Folds “Not the Same” born-again type stories, most of us go on a journey to find spiritual fulfillment.

Because of this, I believe that performing rituals is a must in order to believe in God. Why? That seems totally backwards to some people. Why should I do something that I feel little connection to? For something I don’t even know exists? Most of us feel that there is something else out there, whether we think it’s God, or dark matter, or any other cosmic force that defies all logic in this universe. And whatever that is for you, is God.

If we look in our prayers, we see God described as Avinu, our father. Avinu Malkeinu (Our Father, Our King). Avinu Shebashamayim (Our Father in the sky). We have connections and relationships with other people. It’s the same with God. Other people care about you, and you care about them. Now, if you’ve just met someone, and you want to become friends, you sometimes go out of your way to hang out with them, get to know them, spend time with them. And with any relationship, we need to demonstrate that we really care about the other person, which sometimes means we have to sacrifice some things in life. They may be big things. Or little things. Or little things that we think are actually big things that aren’t. They’re things like sacrificing our free time to help a buddy move, or revealing our feelings and emotions to someone to forward a relationship.

God is the same in many ways. We sometimes need to sacrifice things that we care deeply about for God, and in return, we can receive fulfillment, happiness, sense of purpose, and many other things. It’s not something that happens right away, and it’s not even a linear process. It has it’s ups and downs just like any other relationship.

Rituals are the gateway to that relationship, that connection with God. By performing mitzvot, by keeping kosher, by saying 100 blessings everyday, we constantly keep God in our mind and in our life, building upon that relationship every moment we are alive.

The stumbling block for people who don’t know where to start or continue along their Jewish is that they sometimes get caught up thinking that they need belief to practice Judasim. However, Judaism has an answer: na’aseh v’nishmah. We shall do, and then we shall hear. Pick something and just go for it. Ultimately there is no wrong answer. Do mitzvot. Follow rituals. And then understanding will follow.

This Shabbos, take a mitzvah, and choose to perform it consistently. See what happens. Do you feel any different? Does the action that you didn’t think about before take on a greater meaning now? Build upon this, adding in more rituals as you grow your relationship with God.

May we all find peace and love this Shabbos.

Shabbat Shalom!

-SB

As posted on May 3, 2013 by Sam Blustin on Soup for the Neshama

“A chassid came to see the Karliner Rebbe because he was depressed. “I don’t know what to do,” he said. “I’m not a good Jew. I don’t study enough, I don’t know enough; all I do is work, work, work. But I want to study more. Rebbe, I have a question. What do our great and holy rabbis study on Friday night?”

“Well,” said the Karliner, “some study Kabbalah.”

“Oh,” said the chassid, “that is not for me.”

“No,” said the Karliner, “that is not for everybody. But I am sure you study Talmud regularly. How does it go?”

“Rebbe, I am ashamed to admit it, but I do not study Talmud regularly. You see, I grew up poor. I had to work from an early age to help out my family. I did not get much of an education. I find the Talmud very difficult.”

“And if you study together with a friend?” asked the Karliner.

“My friends also work very hard; they don’t know much either. Besides, I have no time to sit in the study hall for hours. What else can I do?”

“Working hard for your family is a mitzvah,” said the Karliner. “You can study the weekly Torah reading with Rashi’s commentary and with Midrashim.”

“Oh no,” said the man. “I always found Rashi very difficult. As I told you, I hardly got an education. I struggle through the Parshah each week, but it doesn’t uplift me. I am a failure. Besides, I am really not a scholar. I prefer to work with my hands. My family is big, and I work long hours.”

“No Jew is a failure,” said the Karliner sternly. “Every Jew can learn. And every Jew should learn. I know something for you. You certainly will enjoy telling beautiful stories about our great sages and tzaddikim (righteous people) to your friends and with your family!”

“I am bad at telling stories,” objected the chassid. “I always forget the important points, I mix them up, and I am not a good talker either. Please, I can’t do that . . .”

The Karliner leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes and he began to hum. He hummed and he swayed back and forth, and the chassid listened in amazement. This was beautiful. What a melody! And he began to sing along. He never had felt so wonderful before, so close to G‑d.

After a long time the singing stopped. The Karliner opened his eyes and looked at the chassid intently.

“Rebbe,” the chassid exclaimed, “I understand. Oh yes, I do! I don’t feel depressed any more. Thank you, thank you!”

And he went home, and every Shabbat he sang the most beautiful niggunim. But most of all, he loved the niggun of the Karliner Rebbe. And he did not feel depressed anymore.”

Different things speak to different people. And this is certainly no different for Judaism. One of the greatest things about Judaism in my opinion is that there is something for everyone to connect to and that they truly feel they can be apart of, it’s only a matter of finding it. Be it music, Torah, Talmud study, dance, food, culture, holidays, stories, there is something for everyone, and that one thing becomes a gateway to the rest of the Jewish world. But it is about finding that entry point for each person.

Here, the Karliner teaches that we can’t give up on a single person, but must keep trying until we can help a person find what is truly special in their lives.

This Shabbos, find the beauty that you seek in Judaism, and spend some time relaxing and exploring it, and helping to raise up your Shabbos.

Gut Shabbos,

SB

This is one of my favorite niggunim. Shlomo Katz, Niggun of the Birds-

Story taken from Chabad.org, as told by Shoshannah Brombacher. See it here.

As posted on November 2, 2012 by Sam Blustin on Soup for the Neshama

“Reb Nachman of Breslov told this story:

A prince once took ill and thought he was a turkey. He refused to wear clothes and lived under the dining table, eating crumbs that fell to the floor. The king called upon the finest physicians, but none could find a cure. A wandering sage heard of the case and offered his services. The king agreed, and the sage removed his clothes and lived with the prince under the table, introducing himself to the prince as a fellow turkey.

After several weeks, the sage asked to wear a robe.

‘What are you doing?’ asked the Turkey Prince. ‘Turkey’s don’t wear robes.’

‘There is no law saying we turkey’s cannot wear robes,’ the sage said, handing a robe to his friend. The prince thought for a moment, and then he, too, put on a robe.

A few days later the sage, dressed in his robe, had a complete meal served under the table.

‘What are you doing now?’ the Turkey Prince asked.

‘There is no reason why we turkey’s must live on scraps and crumbs when an entire meal is waiting for us.’ The prince joined the sage in his feast.

A week later when dinner was served, the sage chose to eat at the table sitting in a chair. Anticipating the query of the prince, the sage said, ‘There is no law prohibiting us turkeys from sitting at the table. Besides, it is much more comfortable to eat this way. Come and see for yourself.’ The prince did, and in time he recovered fully from his illness.”

The mind is powerful thing. Our thoughts start deep down in the depths of our sub-conscious, and they make their way up to the conscious part of our brains where they take form. By the time we are conscious of those thoughts, it’s too late to stop them.

However, we are endowed with free will, and as such, we are able to control our thoughts, or chose to let our thoughts control us. But it is a choice. When we are able to transform our thoughts into actions that are for the betterment of ourselves and this world, we are successfully channeling our thoughts to live the way we want to live, and the way we are meant to live. This isn’t always easy, especially when our thoughts aren’t in line with what we think is right to do, or what we want to do.

But as I said, thought is a powerful thing. If you’re not currently happy with the situation you are in, then think differently. If you feel you are unlucky, start thinking you are lucky, and you’ll become lucky. If you are constantly down on yourself for things you do wrong or screw up, start thinking about all the things you do well and focus on them until you start appreciating yourself. This isn’t just my opinion. Science has proven it time and again.

When I came to college, I really disliked social gatherings, especially larger ones. I wasn’t terribly outgoing, and frankly didn’t really care about getting to know others in the superficial way that those events sometimes tended towards. But I knew that it was a skill that I needed to learn, and that ultimately it would be beneficial for me in my life, so I forced myself into those situations. I went out of my way to be friendly, welcoming, and pushed away my fears and apprehensions about the whole situation. Now, I don’t only not mind those situations, but I enjoy going to those types of events, and meeting people of all sorts. It’s all in the mindset you bring to a situation.

This Shabbos, I encourage all of us to look into our lives at something that we want to change about ourselves. Take it as a challenge, and change your mindset towards that feeling, attitude, action, and force yourself to give it a try. And if you fail, try, try again.

“You can’t fulfill you dreams unless you dare to risk it all.” -Staff Sergeant Michael Levin, American born lone soldier in the I.D.F.

What other lessons do you take from the story? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Shabbat Shalom,

SB

This song is awesome, and it’s worth listening to the intro as well.

(Story taken from “Chasidic Tales” by Rabbi Rami Shapiro)

As posted on June 21, 2013 by Sam Blustin on Soup for the Neshama

“There was once a poor, G-d fearing Jew who lived in the city of Prague. One night he dreamt that he should journey to Vienna. There, at the base of a bridge leading to the King’s palace, he would find a buried treasure.

Night after night the dream recurred until, leaving his family behind, he traveled to Vienna to claim his fortune. The bridge, however, was heavily guarded. The watchful eyes of the King’s soldiers afforded little opportunity to retrieve the treasure. Every day the poor Jew spent hours pacing back and forth across the bridge waiting for his chance.

After two weeks time one of the guards grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and demanded gruffly, “Jew! What are you plotting? Why do you keep returning to this place day after, day?” Frustrated and anxious, he blurted out the story of his dream. When he finished, the soldier, who had been containing his mirth, broke into uncontrollable laughter.

The poor Jew looked on in astonishment, not knowing what to make of the man’s attitude. Finally, the King’s guard caught his breath. He stopped laughing long enough to say, “What a foolish Jew you are believing in dreams. Why, if I let my life be guided by visions, I would be well on my way to the city of Prague. For just last night I dreamt that a poor Jew in that city has, buried in his cellar, a treasure which awaits discovery.”

The poor Jew returned home. He dug in his cellar and found the fortune. Upon reflection he thought, the treasure was always in my.possession. Yet, I had to travel to Vienna to know of its existence.”

When we are entrenched in something, especially something that means a lot to us, we often get so wrapped up in it that we forget to step back and appreciate it for what it’s worth. Our visions and hopes for the future stifle us, make us put on blinders and give us one track minds. We know where we want to go. We know what we want to see. And anything less is a disappointment. That is, until we step back.

When we take the opportunity to step back, to view our own lives within the greater context of the world, our communities, and our religion, our blinders expand and our eyes open. We realize that what we have is really a lot more special than we thought it was. Or we realize that it really isn’t anything special at all. But we now have a better picture of where we stand, and how our vision fits into the greater picture.

I’ve seen this in numerous organizations, and even in the household, and it’s not until we really step back and have the chance to talk with others and have other experiences that we can see that we’re really not alone. Others have the same issues as us. Others have it better, and from them we can learn. And others have it worse, and to them, we can teach. But nothing exists in a vacuum. We exist in the context of a community, a people, and a history. And until we step back, we can’t realize all of the treasures that lie right in front of us.

This Shabbos, take the time to step back and reflect on your week. What are the treasures in your own life?

Shabbat Shalom,

SB

This is one of the songs of my youth, and one of my favorites. One Tin Soldier:

This story was taken from Gedaliah Fleer. You can find this story and more at: http://www.hasidicstories.com/Stories/Nachman_of_Bratslav/yekel.html

As posted on November 9, 2012 by Sam Blustin on Soup for the Neshama

A teaching of Reb. Nakhman:

“A good shepherd has a special tune, according to the grass and according to the place where he tends his flock. There is a special grass for every different kind among the animals. Every blade of grass has its special tunes, and from the tunes of the different grasses is composed the shepherd’s tune.

Each science, religion, philosophy, even atheism, has its particular song. The loftier the religion or science, the more exalted is its music.

When someone hears a beautiful tune, he attaches himself to the Almighty, because all melodies come from the source of sanctity. But impurity does not sing, for it knows no joy. It is the source of melancholy.

Song and music clothe God’s Divine presence in radiant garments; prayer through song mollifies Divine Judgment. It is of importance that every one cause joy to his own soul by means of an inspiring tune.

Common sense is strengthened by joy, but melancholy is a symptom of oncoming sickness. All sadness is very damaging, because it gives strength to the evil inclinations.

Peace is also the result of joy. The ascent to holiness is through joy, because joy is the world of freedom.”

What lessons do you take from this teaching? Please share them below.

This Shabbat, find the song of your life and enjoy that song to the fullest. We never know when the song might end.

Shabbat Shalom,

SB

Passage taken from “Ideas and Ideals of the Hasidim” by Aron, pg 150, where it was taken from Liqqutei Moharan; Kitzur Liqqutei Moharan; Sefer Hamidot; S.A.; Horodettzky: Leaders of Hassidism, London, 1928, p. 96; A Treasury of Jewish Quotations, New York, 1956.)