Yom Kippur 5775

Now, it is Yom Kippur and we are being weighed in the scales of justice. If you’re like the rest of us, and you imagine yourself standing outside the courtroom looking in, you’ll see yourself sitting on the balance-pan which has “Guilty” written on it. You’re probably frowning and nodding your head. “Yeah, that’s me alright. I did a lot of things wrong and a lot of wrong things. Did some good things too, just not a lot and just not enough.”

You step into the courtroom to get a better look at the judge. You see who it is, but you can’t believe your eyes. You rub them, shake your head and take another look. You’re astounded. That’s the judge?! Really? It’s no wonder you recognize the magistrate—it’s you!

God is going to judge us on Yom Kippur for what we did and for what we didn’t do. You (we) are responsible for what you (we) said and did and thought. Actions have consequences. We must own up to that. God will decide, in His mercy, how best to arrange our lives to correct our mistakes so that we learn how to not repeat them.

Our good behavior, the nice things we said, the mitzvahs we hoped or thought to do? God takes those into account too. In His mercy, He will decide how best to arrange our lives so that we can get better at these and do them more frequently.

If it ended with this weighing, most of us would end up in the guilty-pan. But while God is judging your other actions, He is waiting to see how you perform the act judging your self. Will you convict and condemn yourself to “guiltiness,” to being a person who can never grow out of wrong thinking/speaking/behavior? Or will you say, “Hey! Yes, I did those wrong things and a lot, lot more, but that’s not me. Kiddush, charity, being respectful to the Torah scroll—it’s not that much, but that’s who I am!”

Yom Kippur is the day to “judge” and define yourself, to return to your innate goodness. Identifying with the good you’ve done makes you meritorious. The old you is gone and the guilty-pan a thing of the past. Being meritorious may not bring you a life of wine and roses, but it will put a song of God in your heart on and on your lips, come what may.

May you and yours be sealed in the Book of Life for Good Life. Amen.

Have No Tunnel Fear

The entire world—all of life—is a very, very narrow bridge, Rebbe Nachman teaches (Likutey Moharan II, Lesson #48). And, he says, the main thing is to not get frightened.

A tunnel built by those who want to kill you is not a bridge. And apparently, those built by Hamas frighten many, many people. I would like to make a humble suggestion that may help remove, or at least ease, the fear for some us.

Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh (of inner.org fame) has what he calls, a “Divine space” meditation. Our bodies are, obviously, located in space. There are six directions: in front of us and behind us; right and left; above and below. Each direction relates to one of the six constant mitzvahs, i.e., the mitzvahs a person can do any time, any place.

The six mitzvahs are:

To believe in God’s existence
To believe that there is no god, power or force independent of God
To believe in God’s Oneness and Uniqueness
To love God
To fear God
To not stray after one’s heart or eyes

Rabbi Ginsburgh relates each mitzvah to a direction and to a pasuk (verse) of the Torah. For our purpose, we will relate just the two that are immediately relevant.

To believe in God’s existence is the first of the Ten Commandments, “I am the Lord your God (Exodus 20:2). Think of this mitzvah as being above you, “over your head,” as you sit, stand, walk or ride. I encourage people to think of this as being the Ultimate Iron Dome.

The second of the Ten Commandments—and what inspired this piece—is the mitzvah to believe that there is no god other than God Himself, “You will have no other gods before Me” (ibid. V.3). This mitzvah is “below,” it is the bedrock of our security. It is the ground we walk on.

Where we stand, where we stride, no force can touch us. We Jews have nothing to fear as long we are rock-certain that no one and nothing can do us harm, unless God wills it.

Don’t be afraid of tunnels or those that build them, who think they can hide their evil deeds from God. “Blessed are You, Hashem, Who protects His people Yisrael, forever.”

For Heaven’s Sake!

(With the kind permission of Pe’er Yisroel Institute)

Even if one’s sin contains absolutely no trace of mitzvah, that’s no reason for a person to forget Hashem, one’s Maker. He should mention God aloud. He should inject some “sake of Heaven,” whatever it might be, even if it’s farfetched, into what he’s doing. Look at King Saul. As he was committing the sin of going to a soothsayer, he swore, As God lives! (Shmuel-1 28:10).[1] …

They said something similar about Hillel. He would say “Baruch (blessed is) Hashem, day in and day out.” Everything he did was for the sake of Heaven, even though he was lazy in honoring Shabbos. He wasn’t like Shammai who started on Sunday to prepare for Shabbos.

The Rashbatz, Cheilek Hashem Amo of Magen Avos on Pirkei Avos

[1] The Rashbatz also brings the Midrash (Vayikra Rabbah 26:7): What was Saul like at that moment? Reish Lakish says, “He was like an unfaithful wife who was with her paramour and took an oath in the name of her husband. That was Saul—consulting a soothsayer and saying, “As God lives!”

Thankful for Chanukah

Do you remember that it was Chanukah, just a week ago? What do we take away from it? What do we take away from eight days of lighting candles (what’s so “spiritual” about that?), of saying Hallel (that’s pretty “religious”), thanking God (also “religious”) and maybe eating latkes. Oh, yeah, and playing dreidel. That’s very extremely religious, somehow. (Can’t believe that I didn’t spin a dreidel this past Chanukah. Then again, I was spinning myself around, taking care of Mother, so that counts for something.)

We tweeted one Chanukah day that one reason Chanukah is eight days, rather than seven, is to teach us that Chanukah never ends. We need to—we want to—keep on thanking Hashem, from this world clear into the next world. Thanking Hashem not only implies recognizing that you are being cared for, benefitted and that you owe something to the Giver, it is all of these. It is recognizing and communing with the Giver.

The more we thank Hashem for, the more He shines His light of goodness into the world. The ideal height for light the Chanukah menorah is between about 11–35 inches, a third of a meter to just under a meter. Why so low? It’s impossible to gauge the depth of wisdom encapsulated by the light of the Chanukah light, or even of its oil or its wick. But we are human and we are Jews. We are created with a desire to understand, to “explain” and “theorize” as much as we can. We find life so much easier when we (think we) know “why.”

But our Sages, who told us to light, told us that Chanukah light/luminosity is not meant to be used like ordinary light, even if we want to use it to learn Torah. It is a light placed low because we have to reflect on the humble, less glorious parts of life. We need to silently reflect that this great light is not only for the brain, or for the geniuses. It is a light for all of life, even the mundane and profane parts. It is a light for all of us, when we (think we) know and when we (realize that we) don’t know.

Because often, when we don’t know that’s when we can know the most. When we think we know or have the answers, we miss information, instruction and inspiration. By putting the Chanukah lights “off limits” and in “the strangest of places” (to light a light), our Sages are sending us a message: Be humble; be open; be aware. This is how we continue to be thankful and get to be more thankful.

Eight nights. Full circle and then some. It’s a long winter. You never know how dark or cold it’s going to get. Make sure to carry Chanukah with you. And don’t thank me; thank God.

Getting Ready for Rosh Hashanah

One of the things we learned from our ruminations about Uman and LSD is that a big part of our spiritual—excuse me, Jewish—mission is getting along with our fellow Jews. (Of course, Rebbe Akiva put this a bit more succinctly when he said “Love your fellow as you love yourself” [Leviticus 19:18] is a major principle of the Torah [Bereishis Rabbah 24:7].)

But loving people—even if you don’t like them and even if you can’t stand them—and inter-acting civilly is not the last step. It’s the first step. The real power of love is much greater. Pardon the cliché, but the whole is far greater than the sum of its parts.

As you know, Rosh Hashanah is Yom HaDin, Judgment Day. We pray to be written in the Book of Life, for a sweet, happy and healthy new year. But that judgment thing, you know, just won’t go away. Fortunately, God also wants us to come out with a good verdict. So we have to give Him some good reason to make it come out right.

Each of us has the ability to influence the verdict. In fact, you are one of the judges. You are not the chief justice, but your opinion will not only be heard, but it will factor into the final decision. Rebbe Nachman teaches, “On Rosh Hashanah one must be wise and think only good thoughts, that God will be good to us ….” (Rabbi Nachman’s Wisdom #21).

That means, don’t just wish for a good year, and don’t just hope for happiness and good fortune, but “be wise.” Think about what is good, what would truly be good if it happened, if it existed. “Think only good thoughts” about how you, and others, can be better at living a more wholesome Jewish life, for example. Focus and concentrate on how and in what ways “God will be good to us.”

Don’t be selfish and use your wise thinking only on you and yours. Think about your friends, neighbors, local, city, state and federal governments. (I’m not a big fan of politicians, to put it mildly. This recommendation is not for their sake, but ours, per the Mishnah [Avot 3:2], “Pray for the welfare of the government.”) Think wisely about the material misery of so many across the globe, but think even more wisely about the decline of morality and of civilization which need to be reversed.

Our individual efforts to “think only good thoughts” will have a positive impact, but only to a limited degree. The reason? Because as strongly as you or I focus on bettering the world, we are acting singly. We can mitigate the judgment only to our individual limits. But what if we thought together? What if we were so in love with one another before Rosh Hashanah that we agreed on which were the best, or most necessary, points to “be wise” about and we focused on them together?

Yeah, that would be pretty cool. Now, maybe it’s too close to Rosh Hashanah 5774 to do something globally, maybe not. But certainly, it’s not too late to discuss with some friends and fellow shul/synagogue/chaburah-goers about which “good thoughts” to think and in what ways we want “God to be good to us.” Ditto, for folks, spouse and siblings.

Uniting in peace and love, even as a small group, creates a mind much greater in scope, with much greater power. The Rebbe teaches (Rabbi Nachman’s Wisdom #62):

When thought is intensely concentrated and focused, it can exert great influence. All faculties of the mind, conscious and unconscious, down to the innermost point, must be focused without distraction. When many people do this without distraction, their thinking can actually force something to happen. (See there for a caveat!)

A final word. We usually think of “good” in material terms, “more” and “better,” “bigger” and “faster.” When Rebbe Nachman says “good” he means an eternal good beyond our comprehension—but within our ability to live.

Uman Rosh Hashanah & LSD

On my Twitter account last week, I riddled: How is Uman Rosh Hashanah like taking LSD?

OK. Maybe you said because each is a trip. Ha, ha. Very funny. LOL. ROTFL. And probably very true. But before we go any further, I want to make TWO THINGS VERY CLEAR.

I do not equate the taking of LSD, or any drug, with any authentic Jewish spiritual practice (with all due respect to both the Yaqui Way and Rastafarians everywhere).
I DO NOT ENDORSE TAKING ANY ILLEGAL DRUGS, INCLUDING HALLUCINOGENS.

If you have never taken LSD and are curious to know what it’s like; or if you have and would like to relive the experience (while limiting the chances of a negative flashback), you may want to read Monkey, by Arthur Waley.

OK, back to the subject at hand.

One innocent responded to the riddle by saying that the two are connected by the Summer of Love “but in spirit only.” I won’t disabuse him of this latter notion, but he’s right on the first count, although I would describe Uman RH more as Human Be-In than Summer of Love.

Rebbe Nachman was very insistent that his followers be with him for Rosh Hashanah. I want to offer a reason. Even though it took place on the Sixth Day of Creation, Rosh Hashanah is the anniversary of Creation because it is the day humankind was created. Without us and our free will, all the beauty and genius of Creation is nothing but a glorified puppet show.

When we and Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge—girl souls with Eve, guy souls with Adam—all hell broke loose. We were driven from the Garden of Eden and have been trying to get back since. Rebbe Nachman, as the tikkun for/of Adam (humankind, not the guy), calls upon us to re-participate in the annual Opening Day Contest between Serpent and Human. Each year, Rebbe Nachman (with our fragmented-souls reaffixing themselves to his whole Adam-soul) fixes more and more of the damage.

Rebbe Nachman teaches that the greatest part of the RH tikkun (and really every tikkun), is the resultant right-daat, consciousness/awareness. One of the claims made by those who championed “turning on” was that it resulted in “tuning in,” being conscious of the truths of reality and the correct way to live them. It’s not necessarily apparent to us who are blessed to be part of Rebbe Nachman’s Rosh Hashanah, but somehow our consciousness and behavior are permanently altered by the experience. If we remain vigilant, the changes grow stronger within ourselves and get shared with others by osmosis.

Another Yid also got it (mostly) right, although for some reason he responded somewhat tentatively, “Both cause you to see deeper patterns in reality and make you feel outside of daily pedestrian life?” The feeling of being outside the confines of ordinary life is certainly there. This is one of the reasons that many people crash emotionally and/or spiritually (as well as physically) after Rosh Hashanah, sometimes as soon as they pull out of Uman!

As for seeing “deeper patterns in reality,” well, that depends. It has long been my contention—and Rebbe Nachman’s foremost disciple, Reb Noson, backs me up on this (Likutey Halakhot, Taanis 4:8)—that Rebbe Nachman doesn’t really “teach” anything. He says his lesson and each of us who receives the lesson hears what he is capable of hearing, i.e., what he wants to hear. Sadly, those results are sometimes antithetical to Rebbe Nachman’s mission, as well our own personal missions. Reb Noson writes that the best method for “getting it right” is to beg God (and your living teacher) to make you get it right!

Which brings us to the final (for now) part of the riddle’s answer. We will talk first of taking LSD since, in all likelihood, more people who surf the Internet have done LSD than have ever been to Uman. (That is due to change, by the way.) Broadly speaking, there are (were?) three general approaches to taking LSD. There is the Kesey “Electric Kool-Aid” School, the Hunter Thompson “Gonzo” School and the “Let’s Have Fun” School.

What each school sought is not the point here. What is important is that depending on the “why” one was going to ingest the drug, is how one would set up his environment, in order to best foster that goal. Everything that was beyond the person’s planning was viewed in terms of how it impacted on reaching the goal, fun, escape or consciousness.

Uman RH is the same. Some come for the adventure. Some come for a material and/or spiritual escape, including Rebbe Nachman’s promise, that he will pull them out of Hell, no matter what they’ve done (as long as they try their best to not do it again). Some come for daat/consciousness. Some in this last group have a specific state, level or type of daat they want to reach. Others just put themselves “on the table and let the Rebbe operate” on their minds.

Is Uman RH for you? It’s a trip. It requires physical stamina even for those coming from the Holy Land, a three-hour flight. You are (most likely) coming from a First-World country to a non-First-World country. People are coming and going at all hours of the day—and night. Your sleeping and eating patterns will be disturbed, to put it mildly. Services are much longer than usual.

It requires emotional stamina. For a week, you’re thrown into close quarters with Jews of all different types, with different levels of Jewish knowledge, commitment, sophistication, and whose level of courtesy and couth may fall far short of what you consider normal human decency.

It requires spiritual stamina. Facing the physical and emotional challenges, how patient can you remain so that you don’t fall short in your own interactions with others? How committed to maintaining your Torah-learning schedule (adjusted for travel and the holiday)? How patient to focus for davening (praying)? Can you be conscious enough to be b’simchah, to relish that you are part of something bringing humankind to its tikkun?

Do you believe in Rebbe Nachman? Is your faith in his genius and tzaddik-ness enough to cover your stamina handicaps?

Maybe It is My Fault?

In Tunis, the capitol of Tunisia, the chief rabbi, Rabbi Yehoshua Bassin, had police power granted him by the local authorities. One Tisha b’Av, a well-to-do Jew opened his store. Rabbi Yehoshua sent some people to the merchant with orders to close the store. The Jew refused.

The messengers returned, reporting the refusal. Rabbi Yehoshua sent them again and again the Jew refused. “That happened two thousand years ago. It has nothing to do with me.” The messengers came back, relaying the Jew’s rationale. Rabbi Bessin, “We’ll take our time with this one.”

Fast forward to the morning of Purim eve, some seven months later. Rabbi Yehoshua sends some of his “gendarmes” to the rich Jew with a summons to appear before him. In addition, they also have instructions to take him by force, should he refuse. Sure enough, when they arrive and tell him that he is to immediately go to the rabbi’s home, he refuses. “What?! It’s Purim eve. There’s so much to do and prepare. I don’t have time.” When he refused to go willingly, they handcuffed him (or however they did it in Tunis of old), and dragged him to Rabbi Bassin’s.

Rabbi Bassin told the merchant to wait outside his office. The unhappy merchant waited and waited. The longer he waited, the unhappier and more impatient he became. Finally, as the afternoon shadows become more pronounced, he can’t stand it any more. He jumps up and burst into Rabbi Yehoshua’s office. “Rabbi! You called me to your office. What do you want? It’s getting late. It’s almost Purim and I have much to prepare!”

The rabbi looked at him, “What are you in such a rush to prepare for? What’s the big to-do?”

The merchant was shocked. “What’s the big to-do? It’s Purim! The great miracle that God made for us through Mordechai and Esther, to save us from Haman!”

“That concerns you?” asked Rabbi Yehoshua. “That happened two thousand years ago, like Tisha b’Av. What has it got to do with you?” Rabbi Bassin continued. “Remember what King David says (Psalms 137:5), ‘If I forget you, Jerusalem, may yemini (literally, my right hand) be forgotten.’ If one forgets about the destruction of Jerusalem, he cannot properly recall the holiday of ish Yemini (Esther 2:5, a reference to Mordechai).”

The moral of the story (one of them, anyway) is that we cannot divorce any episode of Jewish history from our personal experience. One can’t be a “good time” Jew or a “fair-weather” Jew. The loss of the Beit HaMikdash (holy Temple), how, why and by whom it was destroyed, and the responsibility we bear for it has to be thought about it and taken to heart.

There’s a common mistake made by many, that Rebbe Nachman of Breslov’s teachings are always warm and fuzzy. The Rebbe zl is demanding as well. In Likutey Moharan (Part II, Lesson #67), Rebbe Nachman tells us that God is waiting with anticipation to return to us and build the Beit HaMikdash. Instead of getting in the way, we should assist in its building and pray for it. Then the Rebbe poses a suggestion:

Perhaps in your first incarnation you were the cause for its destruction. Even if not, perhaps now you are the one preventing its being rebuilt. That’s tantamount to causing its destruction.

Rough words, painful. Challenging. Are you part of the problem, or contributing to the solution? Let’s think about this honestly on Tisha b’Av (and other times during the year). Let’s accept responsibility for our past failures and start today to work on rebuilding the Beit HaMikdash. After all, it’s not just God’s home. It’s our home, too.

One-Eyed Jacks are Wild

Today (Tuesday, June 25, 2013) was the fast day of the 17^th of Tammuz marking (among other things) the 3000^th–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.”

Got Torah?

Although we’ve been given the Torah, even now God still has it. He’s the only one who knows the Torah’s core depth, its roads to be walked and how to instill Torah-living into humankind.

How much of the Torah any of us receives is directly related to how much he is willing to sacrifice for it. No pain, no gain. Effort, strain, sacrifice, late nights and early mornings in study. Going the extra mile to attend a minyan and to attend to someone in need.

The more you give of your time, money and body, the more of the Torah you receive and the longer it stays with you. How much do you want the Torah? How much do you want it when it’s going to cost you something? Something precious?

Shavuot is a festival. Enjoying it to rejoice in it is a mitzvah, a way of coming close to God. Celebrate your choseness, that God thinks you’re capable enough, clever enough and responsible enough to dance through life holding His Torah.

agut yom tov!

Chag sameach!

Stay Awake!

Why don’t we sleep on the night of Shavuot? Reb Noson of Breslov, Rebbe Nachman’s foremost disciple, gives an answer.

We already received the Torah at Sinai. So what are we receiving each year on Shavuot? A little more revelation of penimiyut, the innerness/essence of the Torah. The Torah’s panim, face, shines on us a little more, so that each of us can awaken from his sleep. We can wake and look more carefully and honestly at our lives, so that we can evaluate how our day to day life is contributing—or not—to a positive destiny.

When the Torah smiles and reveals to us more of her essence, we realize how many obstacles there are that keep us away from her. We realize that she alone is the one who can awaken us to our destined greatness. Receiving on Shavuot this new appreciation of the Torah’s greatness—and ours—is this year’s revelation.

Coming to realize how far we are from actualizing our potential greatness; coming to realize how impermanent things, false visions and values, and other tricks played on our minds keep us away from the Torah which can bring us to our God and our greatness; these realizations are the Torah we receive on Shavuot.

Staying awake Shavuot night is a reaction to these revelations. It is an antidote to the all too common human reaction of giving up and crawling under the blanket, quitting on the Torah when life gets too hard for us to reach the greatness we know deep within that we can achieve. Staying awake Shavuot night is a cry: I want to be a greater Jew! I can be a greater Jew! Even if I cannot achieve my Jewish goals as swiftly as I hoped, I will never ever stop hoping, and trying, to reach them.

Based on Likutey Halakhot, Hekhsher Keilim 4:26

148 West

NEVER EVER DESPAIR!

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