Category Archives: .Rabbeinu

Posts stemming from Rebbe Nachman zal’s writings

Why I Go to Uman for Rosh HaShanah

Why do I go to Uman for Rosh HaShanah? Let me count the whys.

First of all, I go because the Rebbe said to come to him for Rosh HaShanah. This alone is sufficient reason to go. I need no other. If you have any inkling of the chassidic mind, you understand that if “the Rebbe” says to do something, the chassid does it. This is what it means to be a chassid. The Rebbe is the spiritual master and guide, and I, the chassid, am the perpetual novice.

I go for a number of personal reasons as well. Even though I live in Yerushalayim/Jerusalem, the Holy City, and regularly attend some of the local Breslov shtibels, I feel more strongly attached to Breslov as a chassidut when in Uman for Rosh HaShanah. (Thank God, I always feel connected to the Rebbe z”l, but to the chassidut most strongly when in Uman for the pilgrimage.)

I go to see my brother, who lives in New York, and my nephews and their children who also live Stateside. I go to see friends who live in California, Massachusetts, Michigan and elsewhere—including here, in Israel, whom I don’t see all year long. Catching up on each other’s lives, sharing Torah insights and struggles, offering help to newcomers and old-timers, and receiving from them as well. This, too, increases my feelings for and connection to Rebbe Nachman and Breslov chassidut.

I go to daven/pray with a minyan of 3,000-plus people, people who take their time to invest themselves in every word of prayer, screaming, shouting, swaying and singing. The nigunim/melodies alone are worth the trek. Not every prayer can be put into words. Some must be put into (or to) music.

I come to marvel at the diversity of Jews and Jewish “types” that come to Uman. I come to marvel at their self-sacrifice in making the hajj. I come to marvel at those who prepare tons of food—meals, snacks, drinks—for others, with no thought or interest in getting paid for it. I am humbled by all the volunteerism I see there.

I go to do hitbodedut in the Sofievka, an amazingly beautiful park.

I go to say the Tikkun HaKlali at the Rebbe’s grave site.

I go to speak to Rebbe Nachman z”l. Notice I write “speak,” not “pray.” We Jews pray to God and only to God. We Jews do not pray to any person, being or object whether animate, inanimate, tangible or intangible, but only to the One and Only Creator. How do I speak to a dead man? Before he passed away, Rebbe Nachman pointed out that for tzaddikim, dying is merely going from one room to another. Even though we are speaking to him from the other side of the door, he hears what we say. (In fact, he said all dead people hear what is said to them, but that not all of them are at their graves. But tzaddikim are always at theirs.) (How I hear his responses we will leave for another day.)

Returning (somewhat) to the first reason, I go because I “understand” (using the word loosely) that since Rebbe Nachman z”l uses Rosh HaShanah for tikkun haolam, my being present is a kindness for you and every member of humankind, past, present and future.

I don’t know if I recorded all the reasons I go, but these are some of them.

© Copyright 2015 148west.com/O. Bergman

Twitt

One-Eyed Jacks are Wild

Today (Tuesday, June 25, 2013) was the fast day of the 17th of Tammuz marking (among other things) the 3000th–something anniversary of the breaking of the Luchot, the tablets which had the Ten Commandments engraved into them. None other than Moshe Rabbeinu, aka Moses the Lawgiver, broke them. Why did he do that? Because when he came down from Mount Sinai, there were the Jews, dancing and carousing around the Golden Calf.

To give you some perspective on what a colossal error this was by our ancestors, Chazal (our Sages of blessed memory) tell us that anytime the Jewish people suffer, part of that suffering is “payback” for making and worshipping the Golden Calf. (I say “payback,” because I don’t want to get into the whole reward and punishment thing right now.) It was a severe mistake and colossal because it was only 40 days after the Divine revelation that was part and parcel of the giving of the Torah. Then—BOOM!—the rush to throw it away.

It may sound far-fetched and terrible, but don’t judge them unfavorably. If you ever attended a genuinely uplifting and truly inspiring spiritual retreat—or Rosh Hashanah in Uman or a Tony Robbins workshop—and came back only to, um, screw up really badly a few days later, think twice before casting stones.

But my point now is to share with you an insight into human motivation; how deep teshuvah (returning to God) has to go; and how precious even a mixed-up, watered-down puff of teshuvah is, whether yours or someone else’s, even if it’s only a distant memory now. This is from Sichot HaRan (Rabbi Nachman’s Wisdom) #123.

The Rebbe once spoke about those who undertake religious observance but then fall away. He said that even the short time that they drew themselves close is very dear to God, no matter what happened later, God forbid.

To support his statement he said, “About the giving of the Torah it is written, ‘You captured My heart with one of your eyes” (Song of Songs 4:9). The Midrash asks why God says the Israelites’ love was only “with one of your eyes.” It answers that the Israelites already had their other eye on the Golden Calf (Shabbat 88b; Gittin 36b; Shir Hashirim Rabbah 1:55). Even as they were accepting the Torah, they already had plans to stray, God forbid. Still, their closeness to God was very dear to Him—“You captured my heart with one of your eyes.”

 

© Copyright 2013 O. Bergman/148West

Twitt

Pre-death Counseling

I learned this today with a friend. It’s from Chayei Moharan (translated by Breslov Research as Tzaddik), #445. Both my mother and mother-in-law are in decline, particularly my mother, so this is something that I may need in the not too distant future.

Many times when Rebbe Nachman was dealing with the terminally ill, he would “speak to their heart,” and tell them, “Why are you so anxious about death? There it is a much more pleasant world than here.”

We were wondering, and role-playing, how we could share this message in a truly comforting way. Is this a message for everybody?

© Copyright 2013 148West.com/O. Bergman

Twitt

Who is a Breslover?

I have often heard and been asked, “Who is a Breslover?” and “What makes someone a Breslover?”

Here are two answers. When asked, I give them both . The first makes being a Breslover chassid a very exclusive club. It’s based on a true story which I heard from one of the people directly involved.

In the mid-1960s, a small group of young Breslover chassidim from New York came to Jerusalem to study at a well-known yeshivah. Unlike today, when Breslov chassidism is recognized as a serious, legitimate path in Judaism,  Breslov and its adherents were often unwelcome. The young men had been in the yeshiva for a few weeks, study and behaving properly, keeping their connection to Breslov low-key and under wraps.

Somehow, word got out. On erev Shabbos (Friday afternoon), the mashgiach (sort of like a university provost) sent a message to the American students that they were to see him ASAP. They understood that he had heard something, and was going to ask them point-blank if they were Breslovers.

They weren’t bashful or ashamed to admit that they were Breslover. (I know these guys. The word bashful is not in their vocabulary!) But they had come all the way to the Holy Land to learn Torah (extremely rare at the time), were progressing nicely and wanted to continue in the yeshivah.  But they wouldn’t lie and deny that they were Breslover. What did they do?

They went to speak to Reb Elya Chaim Rosen, one of the leading Breslov chassidim of the day. They presented their predicament and he told them (drum roll, please) to say they were not Breslov chassidim. He explained that only Reb Noson qualified to be a Breslov chassid, because only Reb Noson fulfilled every eitzah (suggestion, recommendation) that the Rebbe gave.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have the definition provided by Reb Yitzchok Breiter, may Gd avenge his blood. (Reb Yitzchok introduced Breslov chassidism into Poland in the late 19th century. He was murdered by the Nazis, at Treblinka.) In a letter explaining the importance of being a Breslov chassid, Reb Yitzchok mentions a tzaddik-teaching of Rebbe Nachman: Even if a follower of Rebbe Nachman sees no spiritual improvement in himself, nonetheless, the attachment/affiliation is worthwhile.

Well, asks Reb Yitzchok, if the follower sees no improvement that means he is not putting Rebbe Nachman’s advice into practice. If he’s not doing what the Rebbe teaches, in what way is he a follower?! Rabbi Breiter’s answer: the very fact that a person believes that his spiritual salvation will come through Rebbe Nachman; and the person is called “a Breslover” by others and he says he is a Breslover—even though he doesn’t say it wholeheartedly, and his behavior is far from exemplary—is enough for Rebbe Nachman to consider him a Breslover (Shearis Yitzchok, p. 120).

That’s a pretty broad range. I found room for me. There’s room for you too—if you decide this is where you want to be.

© Copyright 2013 O. Bergman

Twitt