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Struggling to Pray

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On today’s amud we find that one should have intense kavanah when saying uva l’tzion. The gemara tells us that since the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash, the world rests upon the careful recital of this kedushah. Unfortunately, many people fail to maintain proper focus during prayer in general.

One day in the beis medrash, as the prayers were drawing to a close, Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev zt”l seemed to be observing a group of his chasidim. While everyone was busy wrapping up their talleisim and tefillin, he made his way over to them. To their surprise, he approached them with a hearty greeting. “Shalom aleichem!” he thundered.

They looked somewhat puzzled to hear their rebbe offer the greeting traditionally given only after returning from a journey of at least three day’s duration. “But Rebbe,” they protested, “we haven’t been anywhere! We’ve been here in Berditchev all along!”

Rav Levi Yitzchak continued to make the rounds, shaking their hands vigorously, as if they were newly-arrived travelers, all smiles.

Suddenly, he turned serious and said, “From the way you were praying, it was clear that your minds were elsewhere! So, welcome back from Odessa, welcome home from the market in Lodz! Since none of you were actually here while you prayed, I was glad to welcome you back upon your return!”

Mishnah Berura Yomi Digest
Stories to Share
“Shalom Aleichem!”
Siman 132 Seif 1

Ouch. That’s embarrassing. I suppose God always notices when during prayer, our minds wander, but if we’re so obvious about it that someone watching us knows as well, then where is our kavanah; our intention? OK, I’ll admit it. During lengthy sessions of prayer (and some not so lengthy), it’s hard to keep focused on God or at least on honoring God in the manner He desires (not that anyone is perfect at this). Often, my mind drifts into a sort of monologue as if I were “talking” to God rather than entering into formal prayer in the presence of the King. I catch myself and try to redirect my thoughts but after another small bit of time passes, my mind starts to wander again. I suppose that’s one reason why praying with a siddur is an advantage. The prayer-book acts as a compass and a guide, directing prayer to where it is supposed to be traveling.

I know Christians tend to criticize the use of liturgical prayer as “lifeless” and “rote”, but I’ve just described the dangers in both liturgical and extemporaneous prayer. In either situation, we must strive to stay within the light and to pray with intention and dedication. Letting yourself “wander” in prayer is as if you are talking to your spouse about an important topic and little by little, you begin rambling about whatever thoughts happen to enter your head at the moment. Imagine what would happen if God were talking to us about something important (and when He “speaks”, it’s always important) and our minds started to wander, recalling the events of the day or planning out our tomorrow.

So how should we pray?

Luke 11:1 records such a request from Christ’s disciples.

One day Jesus was praying in a certain place. When he finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, just as John taught his disciples.”

In contrast, Matthew 6:1-4 gives us a teaching of the Master on prayer and without any intervention from the disciples, Jesus launches into instructing them (and us) how to pray (Matthew 6:5-15).

“This, then, is how you should pray:

“‘Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one.’

For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.

In either case, Jesus is providing the disciples with something they apparently lacked: a template for how to pray to God. I can only conclude (this is just my opinion) that human beings need some sort of “form” to prayer to keep us focused. Adding on to that concept, we must make sure not to allow the form to take on a life of its own and become our intension. It’s a structure or a framework to help us from wandering, but it can, if we let it, substitute for our intension in prayer, as we see in Rav Levi Yitzchak’s criticism to his Chasidim.

However, according to Rabbi Moss at be-true.org, perhaps our difficulties in prayer are exactly what’s supposed to be happening.

Prayer can be a confronting experience. And that is exactly what it is supposed to be. Prayer is an inner battle waged between two distinct sides of your personality. Your spiritual self and your physical self, your body and your soul, are each vying for control over your mind. And it is not a quiet confrontation.

In yesterday’s meditation, I wrote:

We see that happening all of the time, even within the context of the Talmud itself. Judaism isn’t always about “getting it right” but rather, it’s sometimes about struggling with the Torah, other Jews, and God.

I was talking about the struggle in understanding God from the perspective of study, but here we see this struggle can be applied to prayer as well. Although we have the famous example of Jacob wrestling with the Angel (Genesis 32:22-32) as an illustration of how Jews in general struggle in their relationship with God, I think this can apply to anyone who encounters God through faith. As much as we may not want to admit it, we do struggle with God in a “wrestling match” that pits our humanity against our holiness, as Jacob was perhaps pitted between those two aspects of his existence (and I commented on this about a month ago when studying Torah Portion Vayishlah).

According to Rabbi Moss, the more difficult the struggle in prayer, the more effective our prayer actually is.

On the contrary, the more intense the distractions, the more effective the prayer must be. Your soul is being fed, and your body is getting nervous. Don’t give the body the attention it seeks. Rather gently tell it that now is not the time. You are feeding your soul, and there will be plenty of time to feed the body later.

Is there a dichotomy between the physical and the spiritual? This is a common theme in Christianity but it’s not always presented as such in Judaism. A person who is very advanced spiritually should experience virtually no dissonance between his day-to-day life in the world and his life with God. Most of us aren’t that advanced, and so, like Jacob, we “struggle with the Angel”, so to speak, but without a clear-cut winner in the contest. Jacob “won” not because he was so strong as to literally, physically defeat a supernatural being in hand-to-hand combat, but because he was (this is interpretation and midrash) able to defeat his yetzer hara or “evil inclination.” Holiness won and as a result, Jacob became the father of Israel; a man bridging heaven and earth (Genesis 28:10-19) as evidenced, not only by his dream, but by his dual names of Jacob and Israel.

Every time we pray, we build a bridge between heaven and earth and we struggle to keep it stable enough to maintain the connection between us and God. Sometimes building that bridge is like trying to construct a span made of bamboo across a mile wide canyon during a typhoon. Other times, we seem to be able to create the Golden Gate Bridge out of solid steel on a calm day in late spring. Most of the time, for me, my “bridge building” experience is somewhere in-between.

As with all other aspects of our faith, the struggle itself is not the failure. That we have difficulty concentrating and keeping our mind on Him is not the problem. Only surrendering and ceasing our prayers is the failure. If, like Jacob, we continue to struggle against impossible odds, we too will see our dawn…and receive a blessing.

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Fighting Words

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Teshuvas Minchas Yitzchok was asked about people who daven in the summer in a field, how far apart they could be spread and still constitute a minyan. Does the matter depend upon whether they could see one another, whether they could all hear the sh’liach tzibbur or perhaps they have to stand within four amos of one another since the pasuk (Devarim 23:15) indicates that a person’s camp is four amos. He responded that combining for a minyan depends upon two factors. The first prerequisite is that everyone must be able to hear the sh’liach tzibbur. This is based on Shulchan Aruch’s ruling that if nine people do not listen to the sh’liach tzibbur it may be that the berachos recited by the sh’liach tzibbur are berachos l’vatalos. The second prerequisite is that the participants in the minyan have to be capable of seeing one another. This is based on Pri Chadash’s ruling that when two groups of people are in different rooms they combine to make a minyan if some of them could see one another. Although there are authorities who disagree, in the case of an open field all opinions would agree since there is no wall dividing the group into two that seeing one another is sufficient for them to combine.

Our Mishnah teaches that animals combine for tithing if they are in an area “as large as an animal’s grazing range.” This is defined by the Mishnah as an area of sixteen mil. Rashi explains that this refers to the size of an area in which animals could spread out but still be watched by a single shepherd. Sefer Imrei Devash also wondered whether the discussion in our Mishnah has bearing on the question of how far apart a group of people may be spread out and still constitute a minyan. Perhaps they can be as far apart as sixteen mil since they should be able to see one another but perhaps forming a minyan follows a different set of rules. He leaves the matter unresolved.

Daf Yomi Digest
Halacha Highlight
“Forming a minyan in a field”
Bechoros 54

I recently wrote an article about tradition and how our religious traditions add context and meaning to our worship of God. This is true in any religion I believe, but especially true in Judaism. Perhaps for that reason, Christianity tends to give Judaism a really hard time because of all its “man-made traditions.” The problem for most Christians, even those who otherwise find great beauty in Jewish religious practice and study, is that Jewish traditions are given the weight of authority and even appear to override the plain meaning of the Torah text, seemingly positioning the Rabbinic sages above God. While Judaism doesn’t have this perspective, the ability of most Christians to see from a Jewish point of view is extremely limited, which produces a lot of misunderstanding and, to my way of thinking, unjustified criticism.

I’ve been involved in conversations regarding tradition and Talmudic rulings at a number of blogspots recently including those written by Judah Himango and Derek Leman. Derek especially has been vocally dynamic in this area, writing two subsequent blog posts answering specific questions posed by individuals: Answering Dan and Answering Peter. Although most if not all of the people involved in the discussions on these blogs are in some way attached to the Messianic Jewish and Hebrew Roots movements, there is a great deal of difficulty in understanding and accepting how tradition and rabbinic authority work in the Jewish world and particularly within Orthodox Judaism.

For some people, it’s not enough to understand that, if you don’t belong to an Orthodox community (and especially if you’re not Jewish), you do not have to consider yourself bound by their rulings and traditions. You can choose your own traditions and make them as flexible and non-binding as you’d like (though you probably shouldn’t imagine that your own traditions create a formal “Judaism”). For some of these individuals though, it is important to prove that Jewish tradition is “wrong” and goes against God. The presumption for the other side of the coin is that their own interpretation of the Bible is “right” and can be used to manufacture a “true” Jewish or Hebrew Roots religion more in line with God. Scriptures such as Mark 7:1-23 are often cited to support how Jesus disdained Jewish man-made traditions and supposedly taught only from the “pure” Word of God (although we have a good indication in John 10:22 that Jesus celebrated the tradition of Chanukah).

I specifically quote the “Halacha Highlight” above because of the following line:

Perhaps they can be as far apart as sixteen mil since they should be able to see one another but perhaps forming a minyan follows a different set of rules. He leaves the matter unresolved.

The collection of talmudic rulings and judgments and their associated commentaries are vast and it literally requires years of study to become even somewhat proficient at understanding their wisdom and meaning. Here we also see that these rulings and commentaries are not always definitive. That is, they don’t always take the force of “thou shalt not” or “thou shalt” and many discussions on halakhic matters are left “unresolved.” In fact, the validity of judgments and how (or if) they are to be enacted can be hotly debated to this very day in Rabbinic circles. There is not always absolute agreement about how these “man-made traditions” are to be lived out in everyday Jewish existence. Local authorities often contradict more historic and global sages and typically, a Jew will form their religious practice around the decisions of their Rebbe or local synagogue Rabbi.

So why should you care?

If you’re not Jewish, you don’t have to. Even if you are Jewish, if you don’t consider any rulings of any Rabbis anywhere, including what we have recorded in Talmud, as authoritative, then you don’t have to care either (unless you suspect that somewhere inside those rulings is the will of God). There are plenty of atheist Jews who work on Saturday, eat ham sandwiches and shrimp scampi, and who have never worn a tallit (let alone prayed to God). They apparently don’t care about what the Talmud says and if you are a Jewish person who is religious but not in a traditional Jewish manner, then you can also decide not to care.

That doesn’t mean the Rabbinic sages don’t have authority within their communities, it just means you choose not to consider them having authority over you and your community. God will sort all that out at some point and then we’ll know for sure. Right now, there’s enough doubt to result in their being many different ways to live as a religious Jew let alone as a religious Christian (including Gentile Messianic and Hebrew Roots). Either God accepts the variations we have created with the patience of a kind Father toward small and confused children or He’ll show us all where we “got it wrong” in the end of days.

However, human nature says we’re going to continue to jockey for position, so to speak, and attempt to establish our own authority and “correctness” relative to the people and groups with which we disagree. We see that happening all of the time, even within the context of the Talmud itself. Judaism isn’t always about “getting it right” but rather, it’s sometimes about struggling with the Torah, other Jews, and God. It’s not a crime to disagree in Judaism (but don’t try it in Christianity or the “Messianic” worlds unless you want to get into the spiritual equivalent of a bar fight), it’s expected, and on just about any subject.

A few days ago, I was talking with my wife about a topic on which I was emotionally sensitive and she started arguing with me. I have to admit, I got kind of put out by her attitude and started to walk away when she stopped me. She reminded me that we’ve been married for almost 30 years and that she’s always argued. She then said something like, “I’m Jewish. I argue. That’s what we do.” In other words, she was saying, “Don’t take it personally.” I like a good debate every now and then (though obviously, not on every possible occasion) and one of the things I try to promote is being able to disagree without personalizing conflict. This is quite possible, even outside of a Jewish context. I’ve seen a prosecuting and a defense attorney practically come to blows in open court during a trial only to become best friends and make dinner plans together after the trial was over and the jury left the courtroom.

It’s tough not to take religious arguments personally because our faith is the most personal thing about who we are. When someone disagrees with how we perceive our faith, we hear that disagreement as “them’s fightin’ words”, to employ an old, Western TV show phrase. In fact, they aren’t “fightin’ words” unless we choose to make them such. Still, the best many of us can do is “agree to disagree” and drop the conflict as “unresolved” (see my opening quote at the top of the page). Like it or not, that’s the way we are going to have to leave many of our questions and disagreements…until the time of Messiah’s return.

Until then, may we all find the ways of peace with each other, no matter how differently we see ourselves and God.

The blessing Jacob gives Judah concludes with the words: “his eyes will redden from wine, and his teeth white from milk.” Rabbi Yochanan says homiletically (Kesubos 111b) that you can read it as “teeth whiter than milk” — to give a smile to a friend is even greater than giving him nourishment.

When someone comes collecting charity, it is a difficult and often thankless job. Rejection can break a person’s spirits and keep him or her from continuing, no matter how important the cause. So, as it happens, a smile may be one of the most important things you can give — you can brighten that person’s spirits and enable him or her to persevere.

Closer to home, there is no one who doesn’t have a “hard day” now and then. There are great people who have tremendous internal reserves of happiness, so that no matter what, it seems like they are always happy. Even people like that need an encouraging word now and then — much less the rest of us, who sometimes just want to crawl back into bed and start over tomorrow, if not next week!

To be generous of spirit is at least as important as being generous with money — and when it comes to smiles, the more you give, the more you have!

-Rabbi Yaakov Menken
“Brother, Can you Share a Smile?”
Commentary on Torah Portion Vayechi
ProjectGenesis.org

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Waiting for the Messiah

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On today’s daf we find that one may not blemish his entire herd before taking maaser since our attitude is that Moshiach will come imminently and we will need unblemished animals to sacrifice.

In his time, the Chofetz Chaim, zt”l, was almost unique in his absolute conviction that Moshiach will be coming extremely soon. He recommended learning kodoshim since the Beis HaMikdash will surely be rebuilt soon and the avodah will be restored. He lived with deep emunah that the redemption was imminent. This attitude was palpable even in how he answered those who asked him questions.

When a certain man got permission from the Chofetz Chaim to go to America for five years he was shocked when the gadol told him to take his family with him. “If you are going you should definitely take your family. We must assume that Moshiach will surely be here within five years. Obviously it is not worthwhile for one to be separate from his family during such tumultuous times.”

The Chofetz Chaim was so completely filled with longing for Moshiach that whenever a din was heard from outside his home—obviously something had happened and people were excitedly talking about it— the Chofetz Chaim would immediately tell someone present to go outside and check what happened. “We must check what happened; perhaps there is news of Moshiach…”

Every weekday the Chofetz Chaim would wait for Moshiach. He even had a special coat to wear when he greeted Moshiach. From time to time he would wear his “Moshiach kappotah” and sit waiting for the redeemer.

The only time he did not wait in an overtly noticeable manner was on Shabbos. Isn’t Shabbos itself compared to the next world? Shouldn’t one feel on Shabbos that one is already experiencing the days of the redemption? For him, “waiting” on Shabbos meant that he would yearn that Shabbos would never end!”

Daf Yomi Digest
Stories Off the Daf
“Waiting for Moshiach”
Bechoros 53

“So if anyone tells you, ‘There he is, out in the wilderness,’ do not go out; or, ‘Here he is, in the inner rooms,’ do not believe it. For as lightning that comes from the east is visible even in the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. –Matthew 24:26-27

I feel sort of torn, here. On the one hand, we all long for the coming of the Messiah and the return of the King and we hope it will be “soon and in our days”, but Christ’s own words tell us that there will be many “false Messiahs” and that we shouldn’t chase after every possible report of his coming.

I find it interesting that for six days in the week, the Chofetz Chaim, zt”l would wait for the Messiah in the most excited manner possible, eagerly and almost anxiously leaping upon any event that might herald his coming, but that was not his manner on Shabbos. And yet, as we see above, we experience something of a preview of “the days of the redemption” on Shabbos. All is restful and distractions are to be eliminated so that we can turn our minds and hearts to God.

Of course, it would be almost impossible not to be excited if we actually thought that the time of the return was now. There are parts of the Christian world (and I include that population of non-Jews who call themselves “Messianic” and “One Law” in this group) who are just as focused on the “end times” as the Chofetz Chaim, practically to the point of obsession. The question is, should we be so obsessed?

In Matthew 24, Jesus describes a very dramatic set of events that will occur at the time of his return but he also says this:

“But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. –Matthew 24:36-39

While we are to keep watch (v. 42) because we don’t know when the day will actually be, does that mean we have to put the rest of our lives on the back burner, so to speak, while we’re all waiting like a watchman on the walls of Jerusalem? Obviously the Chofetz Chaim was wrong as far as how soon the Messiah would come and Jewish history is replete with such expectations and with Messiahs who weren’t really Messiahs.

What about everything else Jesus said we should be doing with our lives?

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ –Matthew 25:34-40

Yes, he had just finished telling the Parable of the Ten Virgins (Matthew 25:1-13) which is the warning to keep watch, keep alert, and to be prepared, but he is also saying that we shouldn’t be sitting on our thumbs while we’re waiting. We’ve got things to do. We’ve got hungry people to feed, cold people to clothe, sick people to look after, and prisoners to visit. We can’t spend all of our time and resources just sitting, waiting, and murmuring to ourselves, “Any second now, any second now…”

In John’s vision, Jesus says he is coming soon (Revelation 22:12) but we don’t know when. Like the Chofetz Chaim, we could believe it’s only a matter of a few years or even a few months, but we don’t know for sure. Whenever he comes, it will certainly be a surprise to just about everyone. In the meantime though, while we’re waiting, isn’t there something we could be doing to serve our Master right now? Just like the weekly Shabbos, we anticipate the Messiah. Just like the weekly Shabbos, he will surely come.

I believe with a complete faith in the coming of the Messiah, and even though he may delay, nevertheless every day, I believe he will come.

-from the Thirteen Principles of Faith

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Vayechi: Living Forever

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When the Tzemach Tzedek was a young boy, his cheder teacher taught him the verse: “And Yaakov lived in the land of Egypt for 17 years,” explaining that these were the best years of Yaakov’s life. The Tzemach Tzedek asked his grandfather, the Alter Rebbe: How was it possible that the best years of Yaakov’s life would be spent in a depraved land?

The Alter Rebbe answered him: Even before he arrived, Yaakov sent Yehudah to Egypt to establish a yeshivah. When one studies the Torah, one comes close to G-d. This closeness allows one to live with true and genuine vitality, even in Egypt. Indeed, the depravity of Egypt enhanced the vitality experienced by Yaakov. For the transformation of darkness reveals a higher quality of light. Yaakov’s establishment of Torah life amid the darkness of Egyptian society expressed the essential vitality he possessed and endowed to his children.

-Rabbi Eli Touger
In the Garden of Torah
“True Life”
Commentary for Torah Portion Vayechi
Adapted from
Likkutei Sichos, Vol. X, p. 160ff; Vol. XV, p. 422ff;
Sichos Shabbos Parshas Vayechi, 5751
Chabad.org

For most of us, the idea that Jacob had established a yeshivah in Egypt prior to taking his family down into that land seems a little farfetched. About a month ago, I wrote a missive on the Rabbinization of Abraham that tried to make some sort of sense of the Talmudic writers “reinventing” ancient events in the post-Second Temple world. However, in a metaphorical and perhaps spiritual sense, I think we can understand the words I just quoted in a way that can apply to those of us who are people of faith today.

How can we say that Jacob’s last 17 years of life in the idolatrous land of Egypt were the happiest of his life? One way is to realize that for the previous two decades, Jacob thought that Joseph was dead; ripped apart and probably consumed by a wild beast. Jacob never fully recovered from this event and lived in grief and sorrow from that time on…until discovering Joseph was alive. Joseph saved his family from the continuing famine by relocating them to the rich and fertile region of Goshen in Egypt. What could Jacob desire now that his family was safe and cared for and that he was reunited with his beloved son? What more could he want now that he lived even to see and bless his grandchildren by Joseph in Egypt?

But he lived in Egypt which is usually, to put it mildly, is a “spiritual no-no.” Assuming he wasn’t studying Torah in the “tents of Shem”, so to speak, besides what I mentioned in the previous paragraph, is there any other reason Jacob should have considered his old age in Egypt as the best years of his life?

So Israel set out with all that was his, and he came to Beer-sheba, where he offered sacrifices to the God of his father Isaac. God called to Israel in a vision by night: “Jacob! Jacob!” He answered, “Here.” And He said, “I am God, the God of your father. Fear not to go down to Egypt, for I will make you there into a great nation. I Myself will go down with you to Egypt, and I Myself will also bring you back; and Joseph’s hand shall close your eyes.” –Genesis 46:1-4

Jacob had God’s promise that he would see Joseph, which he did, that Joseph would “close his eyes”, which he did, that God would make his descendents into a great nation in Egypt, which He did, and that God would escort Israel out of Egypt and bring them back to the land of promise, which He did. Although Jacob lived his declining years in relative comfort, even if he were poor and half-starved, I still suspect they might have been his “best years” if only because of God’s promises. The exile wasn’t permanent. Even in the land of idols, God was with Israel, even in the land where his children would become slaves.

What does that say about us? If this Torah Portion can’t be applied to us, it makes an interesting study but little else. However, there are lessons we can take and use in our own lives as we work, play, marry, raise families, and grow old within the context of a fallen world, surrounded by the idols of our society. We have God’s promises, too.

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death. For what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the flesh, God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh to be a sin offering. And so he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. –Romans 8:1-4

As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our flesh and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath. But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. –Ephesians 2:1-7

Pouring waterRabbi Touger’s commentary says something more to us.

True life can be ascribed only to G-d, as it is written: “And G-d your L-rd is true; He is the living G-d.” Just as Truth is uninterrupted and unchanging, so too life is in essence unchanging and eternal. Thus our Sages describe a stream as “living water” only when it flows constantly.

On the last day of the festival of Sukkot, the Master declared that he is the living water (John 7:37-41) and thus our “true life” is in him. We also know that no one who has perished trusting God has actually died, for God is a God of the living (Luke 20:38). Rabbi Touger also tells us this.

The above enables us to understand why the Torah reading is named Vayechi “And he lived” although it speaks of Yaakov’s death. As the events of the reading demonstrate, Yaakov’s life was one of connection to G-d that transcended material settings. And since he shared this quality with his descendants, it was perpetuated beyond his mortal lifetime. As our Sages say: “Yaakov, our ancestor, did not die. As his descendants are alive, he is alive.”

We also know that our “Egypt”, just as Jacob’s, is not forever.

Therefore, Yaakov called his sons together with the intent of revealing the time of the Redemption to them. He assured them that they would be redeemed from Egypt, promising: “G-d will be with you, and He will bring you back to your ancestral land.” For it is in Eretz Yisrael and more particularly, in the Eretz Yisrael of the Redemption that Yaakov and his descendants will truly flourish.

We have that promise as well.

Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” –Revelation 21:1-5

Regardless of where we live, how we live, our day-to-day circumstances, our fears, our mistakes, our illnesses, and our woes, we are His if we know our God and trust in Him. The promises come to us from the Master, the Savior, the Messiah, the Son of God so that we can be reconciled and also be considered sons and daughters of the Most High. If we allow our souls to sail upon the winds of hope, we too will never die because God lives forever.

To one whose self is his body, death of the body is death of the self. But for one whose self is his love, awe and faith, there is no death, only a passing. From a state of confinement in the body, he makes the passage to liberation. He continues to work within this world, and even more so than before.

The Talmud says that Jacob, our father, never died. Moses, also, never died. Neither did Rabbi Judah the Prince. They were very high souls who were one with Truth in an ultimate bond—and since Truth can never die, neither could they.

Yes, in our eyes we see death. A body is buried in the ground, and we must mourn the loss. But this is only part of the falseness of our world. In the World of Truth, they are still here as before.

And the proof: We are still here. For if these high souls would not be with us in our world, all that we know would cease to exist.

-Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
“High Souls”
Based on letters and talks of the Rebbe
Rabbi M. M. Schneerson
Chabad.org

Transform darkness into light. Good Shabbos.

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The Judge in the Mirror

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MirrorThe Baal Shem Tov taught that in the heavenly court there is no one who can judge you for what you have done in your life on earth. So this is what they do:

They show you someone’s life—all the achievements and all the failures, all the right decisions and all the wrongdoings—and then they ask you, “So what should we do with this somebody?”

And you give your verdict. Which they accept. And then they tell you that this somebody was you. Being now in heaven, you don’t recall a thing.

Of course, those who tend to judge others favorably have a decided advantage.

Better get in the habit now.

-Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
“Self-Trial”
Based on letters and talks of the Rebbe
Rabbi M. M. Schneerson
Chabad.org

I’m tempted not to write a commentary on the words of the Rebbe as interpreted by Rabbi Freeman because I think they speak for themselves, but I suppose I should add a little something. I’m sure that, as believers, we’re aware of the teaching Jesus gave in Matthew 7:1-6 about not judging others, however that doesn’t seem to stop us from doing so. We can always find amble excuses for why we have the “God-given right” to judge others and we can back it up with scripture to validate our attitude. We also know that even the Adversary can use scripture to backup his activities, as we see Matthew 4:1-11, but that doesn’t stop us from pulling the same stunt when it suits us.

So how do we “discern good from evil” (Hebrews 5:14)? and moreover, what do we do when we believe we have discerned good from evil, particularly among those within the body of faith?

“If your brother or sister sins, go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over. But if they will not listen, take one or two others along, so that ‘every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.’ If they still refuse to listen, tell it to the church; and if they refuse to listen even to the church, treat them as you would a pagan or a tax collector. –Matthew 18:15-17

This is a well-known formula that I’m sure most of us don’t use in real life (I actually have and believe me, it’s tougher than it looks), particularly on the Internet where we post our judgments for all to see. Right before his teaching on how to approach a brother who has sinned against you, Jesus tells a parable.

“If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea. Woe to the world because of the things that cause people to stumble! Such things must come, but woe to the person through whom they come! If your hand or your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life maimed or crippled than to have two hands or two feet and be thrown into eternal fire. And if your eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into the fire of hell. –Matthew 18:6-9

That sounds pretty harsh, but notice that the Master isn’t telling us to literally mutilate ourselves or to commit such acts against someone else. Also, as I recall, God gave all authority to judge the earth to Jesus, not to us, so we might want to keep that in mind.

You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge another, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things. Now we know that God’s judgment against those who do such things is based on truth. So when you, a mere human being, pass judgment on them and yet do the same things, do you think you will escape God’s judgment? Or do you show contempt for the riches of his kindness, forbearance and patience, not realizing that God’s kindness is intended to lead you to repentance? –Romans 2:1-4

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking you don’t do the same things as the people you judge, so you’re covered, right? But what if the sin others are committing is judging others and then you do the same to them?

If you’re going to judge, put away all of the excuses you use to bash others with and take a look in the mirror. Ask God to help you be honest with yourself. Ask God (you are not going to want to do this) to help you see all of your flaws, bumps, bruises, warts, and sins. Then, as Rabbi Freeman suggests, judge yourself. What will that judgment be like?

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Tradition!

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Because of our traditions, we’ve kept our balance for many, many years. Here in Anatevka, we have traditions for everything… How to sleep, how to eat… how to work… how to wear clothes. For instance, we always keep our heads covered, and always wear a little prayer shawl that shows our constant devotion to God. You may ask, “How did this tradition get started?” I’ll tell you! I don’t know.

But it’s a tradition… and because of our traditions… Every one of us knows who he is and what God expects him to do.

-Tevye
Fiddler on the Roof (1971)

Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach answered, “Although there is no source in the poskim, this is the custom and it has been the custom for quite a while.”

Mishna Berufa Yomi Digest
Stories to Share
“A Sign of Mourning”
Rema Siman 131 Seif 2

Powerful and moving as study can be, Judaism has to do more than challenge us intellectually. If it is to help us search for spirituality and quest for a sense of God’s closeness, Jewish life has to give us opportunities to express hope and fear, joy and grief. It has to connect us not only to tradition and to our history, but to family and community. It has to create moments in which we touch the innermost parts of who we are, when we can appreciate the miracles of everyday living and when we can reconnect to the dreams we have for ourselves, our families, and the world. Judaism, if it is to provide Jews with something that will truly shape their lives, has to make room for the soul no less than for the mind. That is why in addition to the world of words and text, Jewish life also revolves around ritual.

-Rabbi Daniel Gordis
“Ritual – Creating Space for Spirituality” (pp 102-3)
God Was Not In The Fire

As I make my way through Rabbi Gordis’ book, I find myself falling in love with Judaism all over again. I know people can stab and poke at Jews and Judaism and find fault, but I suppose that’s because Jews are human and not perfect and the rest of us are human and not perfect. But there’s something so beautiful and calming about the traditions in Judaism. There’s an order and a “centeredness” about a devout life, from saying the Modei Ani upon awaking to reciting the Bedtime Shema before retiring. People, whether secular or religious, who do not have a tradition from which to draw and add meaning to their lives, must experience existence in such a colorless dimension. It seems rather sad when religious people disdain tradition, because it’s part of what gives context and meaning to a life lived for God. Tradition and ritual also provides direction and form to trust and faith because without them, the Bible does not say in precise detail how we are to even worship.

Shabbat is not the only ritual in Jewish life that fosters relationship and connection. While each life-cycle ritual (the bris, naming ceremonies for girls, weddings, funerals, and the like) has its own symbolism and its own message, and each holiday on the annual calendar cycle (Rosh Ha-shanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Passover, Shavuot, and the others) celebrates a different value or event, what ultimately makes them powerful is the sense of community that they provide. Sharing many of these holidays and life-altering moments together somehow creates the connectedness that many modern Jews desperately want but have not found elsewhere. When they finally find that connection, they find spiritual richness, a sense of intimacy. They find meaning (Gordis, pg 108).

I think this is part of what makes Judaism so attractive for some non-Jews. I know it’s what attracts me but I recognize the inherent limits as well. Ritual does not a community make, at least not right away. It’s not as if I could simply enter a synagogue on Erev Shabbat and gain an immediate sense of belonging. I would have to stay, perhaps for many years, and allow my life to be molded by the rituals and ceremonies of the community. I would have to allow myself to become connected and the community would have to be willing to allow that connection. Rabbi Gordis wrote this book primarily for a Jewish audience longing to return to or to discover the spiritual meaning in their Judaism. I think Goyim like me just get hooked and taken along for the ride without the author’s full intention.

After all, it’s not like other religions don’t have traditions and rituals, even if they don’t recognize their behaviors by those names. Consider the rituals and traditions of the church. We’ve just finished the Christmas season and many believers in the church find deep meaning, both personal and as families, in celebrating the birth of Christ. It’s not important to them that Jesus was probably born no where near December 25th or that the origins of the modern celebration are attached to ancient, pagan festival practices. The meaning is found in tradition, not the history books. This is true for the other important Christian calendar events and rituals such as Easter, but also includes marriages, funerals, the ritual of communion, baptisms, and a myriad of other activities that define Christian living and life. People outside those traditions may not agree with how the church constructs its rituals and some folks are even vehemently opposed to Christian traditions, but traditions are the structure and the building blocks from which we construct our faith and relationship with God and our fellows.

But there are so many traditions, both within the church and the synagogue. I remember, many years ago, sitting in the local Reform shul when a woman asked the Rabbi (I’m paraphrasing, since I can’t remember what she said word-for-word), “Why do we have so many traditions? It’s like every country we were kicked out of, we took their traditions with us. We have so many. I can’t remember them all.”

It was kind of humorous, and kind of frustrating, and kind of sad the way she asked (you had to have been there…her vocal inflections and pacing gave a wealth of meaning). All of those traditions and rituals are what makes Jewish living uniquely “Jewish”. Not that there’s just one way of being “traditionally” Jewish, as Rabbi Gordis relates (pg 104):

As we examine the world of Jewish ritual, we should not anticipate one authoritative reason for each ceremony or custom. Just as each Jew who studies classical Jewish text reaches different conclusions about its meaning and is touched in profoundly personal ways, so, too, each person drawn to Jewish ritual is drawn by something slightly different. The wisdom of Jewish ritual is that it works on many different levels. Often, it functions in different ways for even the same person.

Particularly for a Jew, ritual and tradition connects them to the study of the sacred texts (Talmud torah), to other individual Jews, to the larger Jewish community, and to the wonder of God. It also connects the Jew to himself and his own personal identity as a Jew beyond an ethnic definition. When a Jewish man davens in the morning wearing a kippah, talit gadol and laying tefillin, feeling the siddur in his hands, singing prayers that are hundreds and even thousands of years old, how can he not feel inside of his soul that he is a Jew?

I, of course, am looking in from the outside, but even to me, this is abundantly apparent. It is no wonder that those who chose to try and destroy Jewish life over the long march of time have burned thousands of copies of the Talmud and siddurim, and forbidden Jewish families from lighting Shabbos candles or praying in synagogue. Even with the threat of certain death, under the most horrible conditions possible, Jews have refused to give up the rituals that say to the world that they are Jewish.

Consider the testimonies of Jews who survived the Nazi death machine and who told of Shabbat in the camps. They spoke of inmates who violated the Nazis’ law, risking immediate death by hoarding their bread from Thursday so that they could have two pieces on Friday (symbolic of the two loaves of challah that tradition requires on Friday evening and Shabbat afternoon). Why would people on the verge of starvation, in which Shabbat could scarcely be celebrated, take this risk? What was to be gained?

What they stood to gain was a chance to reassert their denial of Nazi Europe as an ultimate reality. Honoring Shabbat, even in a murder camp, was their way of saying, “I believe in the possibility of a better world. I deny that you are the real ruler. Despite you, I insist that I am human, that I am created in God’s image, and that one day, a world will arise when good will triumph over evil, when God will triumph over you.” (Gordis pg 120)

I know of no other religion or religious people, not even those Christians who have suffered terribly for their faith, who have something so powerful in their lives that they could be inspired to defy death for the sake of honoring the Shabbat and God.

Some non-Jews are so turned toward the delight of Judaism in their hearts that they convert and make being Jewish their life, adopting the rituals and traditions as their own. There are others who do not convert but who attempt to integrate at least some of what they see as precious in the Jewish life into their own as a form of worshiping Jesus or Yeshua as Savior and Messiah. This gets a little dicey when you start making decisions about which traditions you want to keep and which you want to discard, and the Gentile Christian (who may not even believe he still is a Christian) finds himself in the uncomfortable position of actually re-defining Judaism to suit his personal and religious requirements. It’s sort of like a person who has lived in Los Angeles all his life deciding to move to a small rural town in Colorado because he is attracted to the beauty of the Rocky Mountains, clean air, and simple living. Then, upon his arrival, he rebuilds Los Angeles all around him, brick for brick, car for car, freeway for freeway, because it makes him feel more “comfortable” with “country living”.

If you are going to change your lifestyle, you must come to the realization that you are the one who must change, not traditions and rituals. You accept them and change, or you reject them and admit that you do not want to live as a Jew (the latter being the wiser course of action for most non-Jews).

There is one “Jewish” ritual Rabbi Gordis describes that I think belongs to all human beings, though. There’s a blessing a Jew says upon seeing a rainbow in the sky.

Blessed are you O’ Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who remembers the Covenant, is trustworthy in His Covenant, and fulfills His promise.

Praying with TefillinHowever, this covenant was made with Noah who fathered not only Shem (the Semitic people including Jews) but all of humanity after the flood. The covenant spoken here is with mankind and all human beings can bless the heart of God in this gentle tradition.

But the vast majority of Jewish traditions are…well, Jewish. If you are going to adopt any of them for whatever reason (and keep in mind, some Jewish people might take exception if you end up imitating or “characterturing” Jews), please try to understand what you are doing and why you are doing it. Lighting the Shabbat candles honors God as Creator but it doesn’t make you a “spiritual Jew” nor does it say that you are now co-owner of Judaism because you are grafted in (Romans 11). It also doesn’t mean that you can declare yourself “Messianic” as if you are totally divorced from Christianity, and redefine the Torah, Talmud, halachah, and ritual, throwing into the trash whatever doesn’t suit you, and believe that you are in a “Judaism”. You may be doing something, but it probably isn’t very “Jewish”.

One of the “Thou shalt not covets” should be not to covet thy neighbor’s religious practices or his covenants unless you convert to your neighbor’s religion or have another compelling reason to take some on them on board, such as being intermarried. I previously wrote another meditation called Dayenu with that in mind.

Tradition is what gives our faith experience a structure and meaning but what attracts us to a certain tradition may defy logic. Most people love their traditions because it’s what they grew up with and their traditions provide a reminder of childhood comfort, safety, and simplicity. However there are those of us who are drawn to traditions completely alien to our parents for reasons only God knows. Where ever your heart goes and whatever traditions you find yourself practicing, if they belong to someone else, be polite, try to ask permission to join in, and treat the rituals and blessings gently. They may be new to you, but they’ve been precious to others for a hundred lifetimes.