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

Anchors Aweigh! Away? A Way?

While I was working on a project last night, I came across this short piece from Sichot HaRan (Rabbi Nachman’s Wisdom) #121. I’ve taught it dozens of times and seen it even more than that, but it hit me with a new force. I literally felt as if the Rebbe zl  slapped me in the face. Here is the piece:

The Rebbe once lectured us to pray with concentration and energy. He emphasized that a person must exert himself to pray with all his strength. He said, “You put as much energy into your prayers as I did into pulling up the anchor.”

The Rebbe was once travelling by ship when an emergency arose. Everybody on board—crew and passengers—was pressed into service and forced to pull the rope with all his might to weigh anchor. “I went through the motions of pulling with all my strength, but really I wasn’t using any energy at all. I was actually pretending. I was being coerced, so I acted as if I was pulling with all my might. The is what your prayer ‘with energy and concentration’ is like.”

I had always taken away the obvious message: you’re not really putting in genuine effort; and obvious message #2: c’mon—you call that trying? But last night it hit me hard when I realized that the Rebbe zl was telling me why I wasn’t putting honest effort into my davening. I feel like I’m being coerced. On a subtle level, part of why I am in shul three times a day is that I have to be there.

Definitely some part of me wants to daven or I wouldn’t do it all. But since not all of my self is invested in davening, I don’t invest all of my energy into davening. I’m pretending to pull the rope to weigh anchor. I’m making all the appropriate gestures and noises that come along with it, but really I’m putting on a show. Sometimes it’s such a good show I fool even myself.

But as with anything in life that a person feels called to do, he’ll give it everything he’s got. Hearty davening!

© Copyright 2014 148west.com/O. Bergman

Shabbos Night (2 of 10)

 (In memory of Chaim Barukh Yehudah ben Dovid Tzvi zl)

K’gavna 

(In chassidic shuls, this piece of Zohar is said right before the start of Maariv, the nighttime prayer.)

Just as the six points of the sefirot unite Above to become one, the Shekhinah, too, unites her six points, Below. The two are aligned perfectly, in harmony, face to face (as it were). The Blessed Holy One is One. Above no one sits on His Throne of Glory until she—the Shekhinah—is as One in her realm as He is in His. This needs to happen in order for them to “unite” utterly. (We have been taught elsewhere {Zohar 2:134b] that Hashem is One and that His Name, aka the Shekhinah, is One.)

The secret of Shabbos? The Shekhinah’s name is Shabbos. This name has become unified in the One so that union with the One can take place.

The secret of the Shabbos (Friday) night prayer is linked one of the Shekhinah’s secrets. She is the secret of the Throne of Glory. She becomes fully integrated so that His August Royal Majesty will sit on His Throne.

When does the Shekhinah prepare herself? As Shabbos begins she becomes one within herself, totally detaching from the Sitra Achra (the Other Side, i.e., the evil side). All judgments leave and she remains, alone in union with the Holy Light. She crowns herself with many crowns, for the Holy King Who awaits her in the higher world, Atzilut.

All the demons created by anger, by haters and complainers flee—they can’t get out of her sight fast enough—to hide in the Sinkhole of the Great Deep. With their departure, no other force holds sway in the lower worlds, Beriyah, Yeztirah and Asiyah. All people, all beings, call out, loud and clear, in Hashem’s Name.

The Shekhinah’s face radiates the Holy Light. She is crowned by the prayers of the Jews; {Rebbe Nachman teaches* to say this next phrase with extra enthusiasm and joy} they, each and everyone, is crowned with a brand new soul, special for Shabbos. Now we can begin Maariv, to bless it joyfully, with shining faces. We can say, “Barkhu es Hashem hamevorakh”—”Hashem” means Hashem; “es” means the Shekhinah. We honor her by beginning Maariv with a blessing for her.

© Copyright 2014 148west.com/O. Bergman

* Sichot HaRan/Rabbi Nachman’s Wisdom #270

Don’t Be Inferior

One of the biggest challenges we face in our quest to live Jewishly, is the feeling that we can’t measure up, that certain “levels” or accomplishments are just beyond us.

This is not a feeling that only a baal teshuvah might have. Many who are born and educated in even the most “religious” and/or spiritually dedicated homes feel inferior to someone who seems more gifted, privileged or just plain lucky. (”Mazeldik” is the technical term.) The feeling is real and too often is an impediment to becoming all the Jew you can be. What should you do to so that this feeling lifts you and doesn’t bury you?

First, ask a question that you should always ask any time you feel stuck in our Jewishness: Who says? Who says that just because I’ve bumped my head on the ceiling of my Jewishness that I can’t break through it? Asking this question requires two ingredients: chutzpah and ambition.

If you’re Jewish, you automatically have chutzpah. Ambition you may also have, but maybe not. And even if you do, you may not have exerted any of your ambition on growing as a Jew. If so, start now.

This question and this ambition show up in this week’s parsha. When everyone else was busy coming closer to Hashem by bringing the korban Pesach, a small group of Jews felt excluded. Heck! They were excluded. So they (respectfully) challenged Moshe Rabbeinu (Numbers 9:7). “OK, so there’s something seriously wrong with us. Does that mean we can’t move forward with the rest of our fellow Jews? Help us out!”

Their quest and question echoes that of Rachel Imeinu (our Matriarch). Hundreds of years earlier she was confronted by a very stark truth: her sister, Leah Imeinu, was privileged to build the Jewish people by bearing children to Yaakov Avinu (our Patriarch), but she, Rachel, was not. She was not to be denied though. It was her goal to be a builder of the Jewish people. What did she do? She prayed. And prayed. And she prayed some more and she prayed again and she continued to pray.

In order to equal her sister, to match her accomplishments, Rachel Imeinu was not only ambitious, but STUBBORN. She cried, she pleaded, she begged and screamed. And she remained barren, for years. Nothing. After trying for years and seeing no results whatsoever, normal human beings give up. But to build Judaism or Jewishness from the ground floor, you can’t be “normal,” you can’t accept spiritual defeat. (And you must realize, that your current level of Jewishness is the ground floor for your Jewishness yet to come.)

In what activity do we have to be the most stubborn? In tefilah, prayer. How stubborn? Reb Noson writes: “Even if you imagine that your words don’t help at all; even if you feel that you are a million light-years distant from your Jewish goal—after all, it’s years that you’ve been pleading with Hashem to achieve Jewish growth and nothing has happened—you must continue with ‘just because’ stubbornness.”

That’s right. You have to tell your inner-skeptic, “Yes, there is no good reason to continue praying for my goal, but I’m going to do it anyway.” Your success may be too small for you to measure, or may not satisfy you as much as you like. But keep at it, writes Reb Noson; you will ultimately be equal with your fellow Jews who are already tzaddikim.

© Copyright 2014 148west.com

for Rosh Hashanah 5774

Some words as we get closer to the sunset of 5773, and the opening of 5774.

Once, at the beginning of the year, Rebbe Yochanan ben Zakkai (a Mishnaic sage who was a teacher of one of Rebbe Akiva’s teachers) had a dream. He saw that that year, his nephews were to lose 700 dinarim. (How much is that? Enough to buy more oxen and camels than you’ve ever dreamed of owning.) What did Rebbe Yochanan do? Throughout the year, he went to them more often than usual, asking them to contribute to various charities. They gave and they gave.

Near the end of the year, his nephews were hit with an unexpected tax bill. They came to Rebbe Yochanan for advice. “Don’t worry,” he said. “They won’t take more than 17 dinar.” They asked him how he was so certain. He told him about his dream. “Since you’ve given me 683 dinar, you won’t lose more than 17.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about the dream? We would have given you the whole thing!”

“No,” Rebbe Yochanan said. “It’s better that you give the charity for the sake of the mitzvah.”

I bless you with a prayer I say for myself. If, God forbid, you have to lose any money this year, may it be to worthy charities, and not to doctors/(self-)medications, lawsuits, traffic fines, late fees, penalties. May you give to the needy, not to the greedy—and for the right reasons.

I’m not big on predictions, astrological or otherwise. But I’ll go out on a limb here. Ready? Every reader of this blog will have his/her Jewishness tested this year! Hard to fathom, I know, but I guarantee it. Not to worry, though. I offer you a piece of ancient Jewish wisdom that is tried and true. If you follow it simply and straightforwardly, you’ll make it through the storm.

Don’t surrender! Maintain whatever practices and devotions (aka Torah study/mitzvah observance and prayer) that you have undertaken. Even if it looks as if they are not helping your Jewish progress; even if it seems that they are hindering it, ask yourself (in a Talmudic sing-song, if possible): “If I pray regularly and am going backwards, how likely is it that not-praying will help me go forward?”

The difference between tzaddikim and people like us? They don’t give up. Adjust, exhale, regroup and re-plan, but never, ever throw in the towel.

And what should we pray for? This is a “been asked almost forever” question. A Roshh Hashanah piyut (supplemental poem-prayer) answers in two short sentences:

Give me to understand what I should ask for /
Make me aware what I should request

If you make it to Uman, please look me up. I’m staying at the Ritz.

May you and yours be immediately written and sealed for good life and shalom. Amen.

© Copyright 2013 148west.com/O. Bergman

Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door

In honor of The Nine Days, the first nine days of the month of Av, which culminate with Tisha b’Av (9th of Av), the anniversary of the destruction of the holy Temple in Jerusalem, let’s talk peace.

Rebbe Nachman says in Likutey Moharan II, Lesson #96: It is possible to whisper that a gun should not shoot.

If you read international news, national and maybe even the local news, you’re going to find many articles about people picking up guns, or stones, or knives. (And how many of us hurl poisoned words, sometimes with careful aim and sometimes carelessly?) The threat of violence is always lurking, seemingly everywhere. Every reported crime appears to inspire another. Aveirah goreret aveirah, one sin drags along another (Avot 4:2).

Rebbe Nachman once pointed out that many primitive ancient practices, such as child-sacrifice, have disappeared, but the misguided error of war and bloodshed still remain. He spoke disparagingly of inventors who develop weapons of mass destruction. “What geniuses they are, that they can figure out how to kill thousands of people at once! Is there anything more foolish than to kill people for nothing!” (Tzaddik #546).

Rebbe Nachman subtly reminds us, the children whose “voice is the voice of Yaakov” (Genesis 27:22), that even our whispers are strong enough to silence the guns of the world (“Esav’s sword,” ibid. v.40), to put a stop to wars and bring an end to violence. But we have to pray. Letters to editors or senators, gun legislation, police presence and such are band-aids at best. A collective change of consciousness is needed. And it starts with your whisper.

Even if you’re so distracted by your personal pain that you cannot care enough about humanity’s pain; even if you’re so disheartened by the constant and consistently amazing descent of human behavior, still it is possible to manage a whispered prayer: “Dear God! Please. No more violence. No more lifting swords against one another. No more learning war. Help us to beat the swords into plowshares already.” “It’s getting dark, too dark to see. Put our guns in the ground. We can’t shoot them anymore.”

Start with your whisper. The river that flows from the Temple (Ezekiel 47) also begins as a mere trickle, but gets deeper and stronger as it goes, pushing away death and bringing life and healing wherever it flows—speedily, in our days. Amen.

© Copyright 2013 O. Bergman/148West

 

(Rebbe Nachman wasn’t a total pacifist. He was a realist. He taught that if there is a war, one must make the necessary preparations and not rely on miracles [The Aleph-Bet Book, Strife, A:5, 101].)

 

Chosen Person

We’re on the threshold of receiving the Torah, again. As we wrote earlier, one of the reasons we stay awake all Shavuot night to learn Torah, is to awaken our desire for living Torah, despite any obstacles we may face in life. And face obstacles we will.

Rebbe Nachman talks often of the desire to be a Jew, the desire to live Jewishly, the desire to actualize the desire to daven (pray) more/better, learn Torah more/better, be charitable and kind more/better, have stronger faith and love for God, etc. What’s the starting point for that desire? The starting point is to realize that not only are we Jews the Chosen People, but that you, in your Jewishness, are a Chosen Person. Without your having stood at Mount Sinai at the Revelation to receive the Torah, no Jew, not even Moshe Rabbeinu, would have the Torah.

You were chosen to be there and, like the rest of us, you accepted the invitation and the responsibility. And you’re going to fail. Not all the time, hopefully, but often enough to think about quitting or about moving the goalposts (i.e., lowering your standards of Judaism). But this misguided thinking is based on a lack of humility. Your failures—just like my failures and the other guy’s failures—should give you a clearer picture of what your currently capable of and where you need improvement. Your failures, and the humility they breed, should weaken neither your desire nor your resolve for Jewishness. On the contrary—they should strengthen them so much that your failures become stepping stones to Jewish success.

Have a beautiful yom tov. Don’t forget. Being happy that it’s yom tov is a mitzvah. Don’t get suckered into an argument or a funk because the cheesecake didn’t come out right or the rabbi’s class was too long.

Based on Likutey Halakhot, Hekhsher Keilim 4:18

 

© Copyright 2013 O. Bergman/148West