I saw a friend of mine that I haven't seen in a few years. We were never really friends, more like aquantences. When I saw her, she looked like every other non religious girl walking down the street. Leggings, short sleeved t-shirt, flip flops. All traces that this girl had once been frum, had been in school with me through elementary school, were gone, without a trace. It was as if that other girl disappeared, leaving this new one in her place.
It was a little frightening, really. I mean, I treated her the same. Smiled, asked her about her life, told her how mine was doing. And there were no bad feelings. After all, this was her choice in life, and who am I to question it, or scorn her. But then it hit me: what if that were me?
The only difference between us is choice. I chose one path, and she chose another, very different one. I choose to follow rules that G-d set before us, and she ignores them. What if it were the other way around? What if I completely lost my sensitivity, and just dropped it all, like that?
I tried to see myself a few years down the line, in jeans and a t-shirt, mini skirt, flip flops. Doing whatever I wanted, mocking G-d, or worse, not caring at all. I don't think I can do it.
I know that 'fraying' out isn't 'doing it'. In fact, you don't have to 'do' anything. You just have to not do. And it can't be easy, at first. I imagine there being guilt, and remorse, until it gets easier and easier, and you banish your conscience altogether.
I know I may not do the mitzvos behidur, or keep all the things I should. I know that when they preach about tznius, they are talking to me, as much as to the next girl. I know I lost some sensitivity towards skirt length, elbows, the whole shebang. It is very easy to neglect, to excuse behavior. But to go all the way, to deny G-d and His commandments- don't think I could do it.
The scary part is, you don't have to do anything. And there is a very fine line that stands between right, and wrong. How do I know that I won't inadvertantly cross that line?
Thursday, June 4, 2009
A poem
A friend sent this to me, and since I love poetry, I couldn't resist. Enjoy it.We all want happiness and dread the thought of rain.
When the sun fails to shine, we worry and complain.
We forget that God above is infinitely wise,
and sometimes our ails are blessings in disguise.
For if we're always happy, filled with sunshine and cheer,
our hearts would hold no mercy for others who shed tears.
So when trouble comes knocking, remember to stay strong.
Rainbows always follow the storm and dark clouds never stay long.
Mopeds and bikes- Israel vs Americans
This is the definition of a moped. It is like a motercycle, but not quite. Why am I bringing this up now? Because just like cats, Israel is full of them. One of my goals this year was to get a ride on one. Unfortunatly, I have less than 2 weeks to accomplish this goal, and no, it hasn't happened yet.
I found it so funny whenever I saw teenagers, and even people in their 20's, riding bicycles in the streets, to school, and work. It is a form of transportation here in Israel, just like a rickshaw is in Asia. And they have no problem with it. In America, the average teen has a car when they get their license, at the age of 16. But here, it's a new shiny bike, or if they are lucky, a moped, or motercycle.
Imagine this scenario: 'Daddy, I want a caaaaaar!!! And it has to be red and shiny, just like all my friends. No, I can't drive to school in that old, beat up pick-up. Just imagine the embarrasment I would suffer. Like, I would like be an outcast. They would never talk to me again, I wouldn't get a date for the prom... (Sob sob.) Now the Daddy 'totally absolutly' must buy her a car, or she would like diiiiiiie! Oh, the money it would cost.
Now imagine if you substitute car with bike. Ha. Ha ha haha. Ya, I can see it now. 'Daddy, buy me a biiiiiike!!!! And it must have a basket on the back, and pink sparkly flowers, and streamers! I neeeeeed one!'
Ok, I know I'm exagerating, but that's how I imagine it. I think American teens can take a lesson from Israeli's. Yes, I'm making a generalization, but it seems to be true. Yes, most Israelis mature sooner than the average American teenager. They are forced to grow up quickly, having to go into the army at the tender age of 18. (I'm older, and still feel like a child sometimes.)
Back to mopeds. Another thing I find interesting. Here in Israel, it's more accepted for a religious teenager to have a motercycle, than in the states. In America, it is considered 'frayish', out there, daring. You are looked as a 'bad boy' if you have one. Plus, it's expensive. Not that it's cheap here, but cheaper.
I was in Bnei Brak, an ultra chassidish neighborhood, and I saw boys, with long coats, tzitzis, and peyos flying, riding those things. It was definitely a sight to remember. It's normal here. I think it's sort of like smoking. Thats also more accepted here then in America, though it shouldn't be.
It took me this long, but I am finally coming to terms with the differences between Americans, and Israelis. And I'm realizing that they are not so bad, and are in fact, quite good. I am planning on getting to that, when I have time. A post about the pros and cons of Israelis.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
אשרכם ישראל- How lucky I am to be a Jew
You get this feeling sometimes. Maybe it just hits you out of the blue, or it comes from some specific incident that happened.
I felt it today, in the strangest of places. While watching an Arabic soap opera. Where, why, how would I be watching an arab show? Doesn't matter. (Or as my friend so bluntly puts it, 'now your business!')
In the space of 10 minutes, a girl, on her wedding day, was bought by another man, married to him, beaten, then she tried to hang herself, with the same belt that beat her. And they stopped her from killing herself, so they could beat her more later on. Ironic. Another girl was slapped in the face. They cowerd when a guy walks into the room. They cringe, because they are so used to the beatings.
Why would anyone in their right minds want to watch such a show? Beats me. (No pun intended.)
All I thought was, ugh. If you need a reason to hate arabs, do it for this reason. Treating a wife like a possesion, is no way to treat a lady.
Thank you G-d, that I am Jewish, and American.
I felt it today, in the strangest of places. While watching an Arabic soap opera. Where, why, how would I be watching an arab show? Doesn't matter. (Or as my friend so bluntly puts it, 'now your business!')
In the space of 10 minutes, a girl, on her wedding day, was bought by another man, married to him, beaten, then she tried to hang herself, with the same belt that beat her. And they stopped her from killing herself, so they could beat her more later on. Ironic. Another girl was slapped in the face. They cowerd when a guy walks into the room. They cringe, because they are so used to the beatings.
Why would anyone in their right minds want to watch such a show? Beats me. (No pun intended.)
All I thought was, ugh. If you need a reason to hate arabs, do it for this reason. Treating a wife like a possesion, is no way to treat a lady.
Thank you G-d, that I am Jewish, and American.
Fraud...or GIT (girl in training)
I felt like a faker today. I got up in front of my class, 40 girls, and spoke about the topic of reading non Jewish books, why you shouldn't read them, and how they affect you.
Truthfully, I didn't choose this topic. We were each given a topic to prepare, and had to speak about it. But did I have any right to get up there and say what I did, when I myself read non Jewish books? (Though trying to change that.)
You can believe what you want. If you think it's fine to read that stuff, then go ahead. I have a conscience, and it tells me not to. But I do it anyway.
This reminds me of the story, about the chossid that wears street clothes when he works, but when he goes to the Rebbe, he changes to chassidic garb. After awhile, he feels like a faker, so he goes to the Rebbe in street clothes. And the Rebbe said, I thought you were trying to fool the world, by wearing the street clothes, because in essence, you are a chossid. But now I see that you are trying to fool me.
Does that means that if I wear tights or stockings, when I'd really rather wear short skirts and bare legs, I am faking? That I am lying to myself?
I have no idea. I hope that I had an impact on someone today, and yes I feel kind of bad that I don't practice what I preach. Maybe I'll try.
Check this out: it was part of my presentation, and a very nice video. (It's not shtus.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AGmWlHfL9aY&eurl=http://www.crownheights.info/
Truthfully, I didn't choose this topic. We were each given a topic to prepare, and had to speak about it. But did I have any right to get up there and say what I did, when I myself read non Jewish books? (Though trying to change that.)
You can believe what you want. If you think it's fine to read that stuff, then go ahead. I have a conscience, and it tells me not to. But I do it anyway.
This reminds me of the story, about the chossid that wears street clothes when he works, but when he goes to the Rebbe, he changes to chassidic garb. After awhile, he feels like a faker, so he goes to the Rebbe in street clothes. And the Rebbe said, I thought you were trying to fool the world, by wearing the street clothes, because in essence, you are a chossid. But now I see that you are trying to fool me.
Does that means that if I wear tights or stockings, when I'd really rather wear short skirts and bare legs, I am faking? That I am lying to myself?
I have no idea. I hope that I had an impact on someone today, and yes I feel kind of bad that I don't practice what I preach. Maybe I'll try.
Check this out: it was part of my presentation, and a very nice video. (It's not shtus.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AGmWlHfL9aY&eurl=http://www.crownheights.info/
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
What to say...
I feel like a floater. Lol. I just looked up the definition of a floater, and this is what it says.
1. One that floats or is capable of floating.
2. One who wanders; a drifter.
3. Informal. a person who is continually changing his or her place of abode, employment, etc.
Yup, sounds like me. This one, not so much: 4. Australian. a meat pie served in a plate of gravy or pea soup.
Nope. Never felt the urge to be an Australian meatpie.
Walking through the park today, I felt so out of place. There were the kids, of course. So cute, with pudgy hands and cheeks. On the swings, and slides. Falling down, and laughing, and clapping.
There were the old people, sitting on benches, reading, enjoying the sun.
And then there was me, strolling along. No longer a teen ager, not yet an adult, I don't think I fit into any category. Hmmmm..
We have exams now. I don't feel bad saying that I'm not studying for them. (Ok, I feel a little bad, but I don't think I'll do anything about it.) Seriously, what can you do with a seminary diploma?
Inspiration. Something I don't have right now. Contimplation. 2 more weeks in Israel. Procrastination. Summer schedules to plan... Three excellent English words. If you are bored, look them up in the dictionary.
Job for next year. Decision making. I hate making decisions. Plus, you have to have options first in order to decide. Anyone know of any jobs?
On a brighter note: I made soup today. Yes, I know it's hot out, and soup is for winter. But when you are bored and have nothing better to do, (and learning sichos isn't exactly what I would call 'fun') then you go to the supermarket, buy some veggies, some peas, and barley, cook it up in a pot, and voila! Not only do you have a scrumptios supper, you also just killed a few hours of time. And now I have something to blog about.... cuz unlike TRS, (I hope I get commission for linking to your blog...) I can't pull up some old dvar Torah that I posted long ago, when I have nothing to write, cuz sadly, I never posted dvar Torahs, and I don't even have that many old posts to rerun.
On another note: for my b-day I took on the hachlata to say sefer hamitzvos. No, not Rambam, not shalosh perakim layom, or even perek echad layim, but sefer hamitzvos, the 'girly' version. (If you feel up to doing more, then go ahead, but as a girl I am thankful that we have less to say.)
And would you believe that the day I took it on, I opened up the dvar malchus, and....yup, for those who recall, it was like 7-10 pages long!!!! I laughed, and said, thanks, G-d. The jokes on me. Then I said it anyway.
Today I REALLY didn't want to say sefer hamitzvos. It's not too long, like a page and a half, but you know, tired, lazy. But I made the hachlata, so I decided to keep it. Yes, dear readers, I said my sefer hamitzvos today. I should get a ribbon. (Did you say it? If not, GET OFF THE COMPUTER AND GO SAY IT!) Now, does anyone know the reason why we say it altogether? I'd be interested in knowing.
I'm going to Chevron for shabbos. You should be happy for me, not jealous. Don't worry, I'll have all of you in mind.
Now I can succesfully say that I wrote a post about absolutyly nothing. Something I despise. Oh well. Happy reading!
And for those of you who are online, bored, and have no life (most of you out there. No offense, I would be too if I wasn't in sem, and didn't have restraints about the computer) check out this video: it makes me laugh every time. But beware, it might be what you call 'shtus'.
Yay! Another post. I'm trying to get to 100 before I leave Israel, think I'm only up to 87. Give me some ideas...
p.s. the cat, just found it cute. And for those that know, Israel is swamped with cats. I pass tons every day on my way to school. They stare at me with their beady eyes. And I stare right back, and say, didn't yo mama teach you not to stare? (Ya, I talk to cats.)
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Now that Shavuos is over...
I don't like repeating stories to many audiences. The first time I tell it is fun. I'm excited, I give details. After that, it just gets tiring. I feel like I'm being forced to tell it, and it loses some of it's joy.
Should I tell y'all about my Shavuos in The Old city? It was amazingly fun. I want to say upliftingly inspiring, but that it wasn't. I don't know, I just don't get inspired very easily.
Should I tell you about staying up all night? Drinking numerous cups of coffee (black, and bitter, because I was a good maidel and ate fleishigs, something I highly believe in.) to stay awake. So so so tired, trying to listen to speakers at 2 am. Trying to learn. Saying tehillim. Walking to the Kotel at 4 am, davening with the vasikin minyan, so confused, trying to hear krias HaTorah, crowds and crowds of people, thousands. Going to tzemach tzedek shul, and thankfully, hearing it.
7 am. A bite of cheesecake, (which I and a friend so kindly prepared, AND it came out good! I exaggerate not.) fall into bed, exhausted. Sleep for 6 hours. kitchen duty. Prepare the meal at 3, get ready for Shabbos, light the candles (trying to remember if I did all my muksa stuff, only to realize that there was none to do, coming straight from yom tov.) Sadly shavuos was over, keeping only 1 day in the holy land, but it went right into shabbos, so we didn't miss out.
Kotel for mincha/kabbala shabbos/mariv, prepare meal number 3 (or 4, if you count the milchigs as a meal.) say a dvar Torah which I hastily prepared, clean up and done. And the night begins.
Me and Friends go check out the old city. Waking through the arab shuk for the first time. Cool, but empty. Kotel at midnight. No, not there to do tikkun chatzos, it's shabbos. It's empty, I walk straight up to the wall, feeling like it's mine, like I'm the only one there. Definitly an experiance.
Here I shall leave out some of the details (a good speaker always leaves things out, so the audiance will come back for more. Plus, I don't really know you, dear people, and you do tend to judge so harshly, so no, I won't tell you all that went on.)
The night ends at 3. Well, it almost ended till a friend dragged me out of bed to walk another friend back to the place she was staying. Kotel again, 3 am. I feel like I practically live there, by now. 3 times in one night. Ok, NOW the night was over, my bed never felt so good.
Shabbos morning. Another meal to prepare. (Ahhh, the joys of kitchen duty.) We were eating in a place right near kever of Dovid Hamelech, so there was lots happening around there. Taking a break from kitchen duty, sitting outside absorbing the hot hot (hot hot hot hot hot) sun. Suddenly theres a commotion.
There's an arab running right towards me. Ok, what to do. Thankfully, he veers at the last second, and runs straight into the hall where all 40 sem girl were eating. Imagine this. One arab, being chased by a group of (slightly drunk and very angry) jewish guys, bursts into our little peaceful meal. Chaos ensues. Principal very mad, girls slightly confused, this story will be told and retold for years to come, the details getting changed and distorted along the way.
What really happened? Nothing. Apparently, this arab guy was lurking around, he looked at, or talked to, a jewish girl, and these slightly drunk, testosterone filled men were looking for an excuse to let off some steam. So they beat him up. Simple. No, he did not beat up the Rabbi, he was cowerding behind him. So that was the excitment for the day.
Going to the kotel (again, yes. Can't get enough of it.) Meeting a soldier, and getting a tour of the old city. Kotel katan, something I never knew existed. Shaar Shchem. The arab shuk. Very busy, very colorful, lots of arabs. Looking at these arabs, the realization hit me. There's the possibility that I can become a statistic. One of many jewish girls who have been kidnapped, raped, killed. And being american won't help me at all. I am a jew. And they hate me. It definitely felt safer having a guy with a gun nearby.
Water fights going on all day, trying to dodge it and not get wet. Friend got wet, she pulled the boys ear and told him off. Hopefully he won't be pouring water on unsuspecting girls anymore.
Shalosh seudos/seder niggunim on rooftop overlooking Jeruselam. Beautiful way to finish off shabbos.
On the roof on top of kever Dovid, peering down, watching a group of mizrachi boys singing. Feeling kind of stakerish, but enjoying it nontheless. Sky getting dark, stars coming out, you know what that means.
Pack up the kitchen, clean up, get ready to go. Watching a guy playing guitar, and singing. (Him, not us.) Got some nice pictures. Walking back to the bus terminal, 12 midnight, feeling like a weary traveler, and remember that I am one. Back to Tel Aviv, with pictures, and memories, so many memories, to prove that it happened.
That was my Shavuos. Any questions/comments may be posted here__________. (Notice the line is very short.) Or directed at me, and if I feel like answering it, I might. Or not.
If you'd ask me how my Shavuos was, I'd say, it was fun. Lots of fun. Do I feel changed, uplifted, like I just got the Torah? Do I feel closer to G-d (actually, that one would be yes.) No, not really. Change is a hard thing, and it doesn't happen overnight. Maybe next year will be different.
Now it's over. What next, I ask myself. And self answers back, summer, of course. Off to Cali to be HC in one of the illustrious Gan Izzy camps there. Have to get ready for that.
Next year is one big question mark still. I like to just live in the present. Worrying about the future gets so tiring. So that's it. I have 2 more weeks in Israel. Can't believe it's coming to an end...don't want to think about it.
Now that Shavuos is over.... life moves on.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Finished!!!
So that's it. I counted Sefira last night for the last time. Well, this year at least. I am so happy, knowing I lasted this long, that I managed to stay in the game the whole time. It is a great feeling. But at the same time, it's kind of sad. I know the whole purpose of sefira was to grow, personally. I can only hope that I did.
It has been a long 7 weeks. It's like a goal. You see it, you work towards it. you want it. And then it comes, and you realize, that's it, it's over. Now what? But I will not think about the next. I will live in the moment.
Tonight is Shavuos. One of the greatest times in our history. Or THE greatest, because if not for this one, none of the other ones would have followed.
G-d chose to give us the Torah. Were we worthy? Apparently so. Are we still worthy of it? I don't know. That is an individualized question. Now comes the night, the one where you stay up and learn. And prepare yourself for the momentous moment. And when it comes, you want to feel ready. But can you ever be ready for something like that?
No. But you can try.
Wishing you all a holy and contemplative Shavuos. Learn a lot, absorb it, pray, do all the good stuff.
Eat cheesecake, icecream, blintzes, celebrate, have fun! Be happy.
And don't forget the goal.
Moshiach now!!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Yes, it really is that simple
I looked up, and it was there. Someone wrote it, not me, though I wish I thought of it first.'What are you doing to hasten the coming of moshiach??!'
Get a move on, people, and stop reading this blog!!! (No, didn't mean that seriously.)
Go do something useful, that doesn't involve cyberspace.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Our soldiers
When you meet them, you realize who they are. They become real to you.
They are not just a soldier, a person in green, with a gun. Look beyond that. See the eyes, the face, the hands. The smile.
This is someone's son, someone's brother, someone's beloved family. This is not just a number, a symbol. This is a person, someone's person.
I was trying to explain why I don't feel that this is my country, because I am American, I don't have an Israeli passport. He told me, don't think about that. Just like this is my country, this is your country too.
And this someone is fighting for me, for my country. I'll never forget that.
Life
Life is a waiting game. Waiting for tomorrow, for something more exciting than today. Waiting to hear about summer plans. Waiting for the year to end. Waiting for next year. Waiting to find a job. Waiting for The Special One to walk into my life.
Waiting. There is so much waiting. It is so fustrating.
Waiting. There is so much waiting. It is so fustrating.
The English language as we know it
There once was a very smart man named Webster. He wrote a dictionary, which we follow till this day. He chose which words to put in. I had no say in it at all.
Now I am limited by the words he claimed to be English, proper. While I don't have such a problem with this, for he chose good words that truly help me express my feelings, I think he missed out some very crucial words. Well, now all that is about to change. Enter Altie. (Drumroll please.)
There are many words we use in our daily lives that are in fact, not words at all. At least according to Webster. But to me, they are words. To me, they have a definition, and an important place in my vocabulary. Maybe I'll start my own dictionary. It will have words in it like:
Meh: an emotional state. neither happy, nor sad. It is neutral. Like Meh, whatever.
Ish: sort of.
Bla: no definition.
Ness: a state of mind. This is really a suffix to words such as, tirednessnessness.
Now I can turn my nose up at Webster and say, you knew a lot, buddy, but you didn't know it all.
Feel free to add your own original words.
Dvar Torah in honor of Shavuos
Disclaimer: These are not my own words, but the words of Rabbi Wagner, Rosh Yeshiva of Toronto. I know it's long, but take a minute or two to read it, I found it very inspiring, and I'm sure you will too.
There was once a Satmar chosid, who was married for a number of years, without being zoche to children. He approached his Rebbe, the Satmar Rov (R’ Yoel), numerous times, and indeed received many brochos, but still he was childless. Once, losing patience, he approached his Rebbe and demanded a havtocho (a guarantee), saying ‘I’ve already received plenty brochos, I will not leave you alone until you promise me a child’.
The Satmar Rov looked at him in amazement. ‘How can I guarantee anything? Chazal say that the “key” to childbirth is one of theשלשה מפתחות that Hashem keeps for Himself and does not share with anyone else. I can bless you, and I can daven for you, but after all is said and done, it is still exclusively in Hashem’s hands!’
But the chosid was relentless, and would not take no for an answer. Finally, the Satmar Rov told him: ‘I can only give you my brocho, but if you insist on a havtocho then you’ll have to go the Lubavitcher.’ The chosid was desperate, and he called the mazkirus of the Rebbe, and asked for an appointment for yechidus at a time when he could get into the Rebbe while remaining inconspicuous (without getting recognized in foreign territory).
Finally his turn for yechidus arrived, and he went into the Rebbe’s room, and poured out his heart about his problem. The Rebbe listened to him, and gave him a brocho for a child. But the chosid wasn’t about to give up after coming so far, and he gathered his courage and said to the Rebbe ‘I am not asking for a brocho, I’m asking for a promise’. The Rebbe glanced at him sharply, but the chosid repeated his demand, explaining that he was sent for this purpose by his Rebbe, - the Satmar Rov himself. When the Rebbe heard who he’d been sent by, his expression became very serious, and the Rebbe gave him his havtocho.
Afterwards the Rebbe said to him: “you are a chosid of the Satmar Rov. Recently he commemorated a yorzeit, on which occasion he surely held a tisch and said Torah. I would like to hear over something of the Torah that he said for that occasion”. The chosid thought back to the tisch, and told the Rebbe: ‘I remember the Rov asking a question. Chazal tell us "אפילו פושעי ישראל מלאים מצוות כרימון, and the Satmar Rov asked, if they’re poyshei Yisroel, sinners, how can we say that they’re full of mitzvos?!’
The Rebbe’s expression again became very grave, and the Rebbe remarked: “I too have a question on the same maamar chazal; They are, after all, filled with mitzvos, how, then, can they be referred to as ‘sinners’”
¨ ¨ ¨
Recently we wrote about the lesson of the days of sefira, about working on nohagu kavod zeh bozeh. The time of sefirah is a time to improve our dealings with each other.
But the question is: how does one go about that? How can I bring myself to act politely, to behave respectfully, towards someone who is, in my opinion, a lowlife and an unterveltnick? Wouldn’t I be guilty of a lack a proper chassidisher hergesh, if I displayed anything short of disdain towards someone who appears to be undermining the Rebbe’s work (which is basically most of the people in the world, except for me!)?
The basic answer is, I think, that it’s all a matter of perspective. We all have the ability to focus on the virtues of others, and through that to view our fellow Chassidim in a positive light.
He may be a sinner. But he’s also surely filled with virtues, which we have to admit to, if we’re at all honest with ourselves.
The question is: where do we put the emphasis? Do we say: ‘That guy may do a lot of good things, but he’s really a low-life because . . . ‘. Or do we say: ‘That person may have some faults, but he is really such a wonderful person because. . .’
In today’s Jewish world, it has become popular to give much attention to the concept of loshon hora. There are loshon hora clubs[1], and loshon hora contests and loshon hora posters, and any self-respecting contemporary Jewish writer makes sure to include some mention of loshon hora in his (or her) stories.
Indeed, loshon hora is a most severe aveira, that Chazal equate to kofar b’ikar, to heresy, and describe as being deserving of the most stringent punishments. In Hayom Yom, as well as in sichos, the severity of it is addressed.
Yet, the approach of Chassidus in preventing it seems to go a basic step further: The Frierdige Rebbe quotes in the name of the Rebbe Maharash, who said in the name of the Baal Shem Tov (with regards to the Yomim Noraim) – “Hashem does not desire the davening of Yiden; rather he desires to hear praises being said about Yidden!”
Hear Hear!
One short statement that says it all. Lashon Hora means don’t say all of the negative statements (that obviously reflect the things that you think) about your friend. The preoccupation with lashon hora is about not speaking (or as one of the projects is named – “machsom l’fi” - sealing one’s mouth.
Undoubtedly, in some situations that is what Torah requires us to be dealing with.
But it doesn’t end there. Don’t keep silent, and pat yourself on the back for refraining from speaking lashon Hora, while in your mind you have only contempt for that person. On the contrary, do speak about him! Find something nice to say about him! Praise him!
It doesn’t start with the faculty of speech, it starts with the faculty of thought. Think positively. Change your outlook, refine your perspective! View your fellow in a positive light, and there won’t be a need to fight the urge to tell everyone about what a shin vov vov he is.
When the Tzemach Tzedek was asked by his Rebbetzin how he took upon himself the responsibility to risk his life (during the government meetings in Petersburg), despite the fact that Chassidim are dependent on him, the Tzemach said that there are 2 answers; firstly, there are his children [who can continue to lead and guide the Chassidim], and secondly, through practicing achdus, Chassidim will overcome all obstacles, and prevail until the coming of Moshiach.
But Achdus is not merely an act, a superficial manner of conduct. Rather, genuine achdus is a reflection of the ability to cultivate a better outlook, to perceive our fellows in a way that evokes a true love for them. Although we don’t necessarily agree with them in everything, although we may not be able to see eye-to-eye in many areas, he’s still מלאים מצוות כרימון - full of mitzvos and goodness, and I can respect and love him for it.
No-one said that it’s easy (I’ll be the first to confess that it isn’t). Most important things aren’t. But it’s what chassidishe ahavas Yisroel is all about. It’s what the Rebbe constantly teaches and shows us. A person may be a mescichist/anti-meshichist/mushroom etc. He may be (in my not-so-humble opinion) destroying a mosad, a city, or even the whole Lubavitch. A real poshei Yisroel. But he’s still full of beauty and goodness. And you have to be able to see it.
R’ Avremel Levitansky (who’s yohrzeit will be marked just after Shavuous) once related:
When we first came to California, R’ Shmuel Dovid Raitchik (who was the senior shliach in California, having been sent there a number of years before the rest of us) had strong differences of opinion with Rabbi Cunin with regards to the methodology of carrying out our shlichus. The differences of opinion were such that each felt that the other was jeopardizing the chance of carrying out the Rebbe’s directives in the state.
Understandably they led to heated arguments, to the extent that Rabbi Raichik once asked of Rabbi Cunin: ‘Please, if you throw a bomb into my home (because you feel that I’m a hindrance to your shlichus), please take care to aim for my bedroom. My children are not at fault for my views, and there’s no reason to punish them. [Rabbi Levitansky added that Rabbi Raichik was not given to joking or exaggerations].
Nonetheless, even in the midst of their strongest differences, they never failed to come together every Shabbos in Rabbi Raichik’s house for cholent.
It’s not about not having differences. אין דיעותיהן שוות is an unavoidable reality. Rather it’s about finding the means of seeing beyond the differences. To view someone as we would our own child, in whom we manage to find all kinds of virtues, and for whom we find endless defenses for all of his faults. To look at every chossid with a right eye; - with a positive outlook.
It’s about changing our perspective.
So the next time you’re upset with someone, stop, take a deep breath, and look for something positive about him. Praise him a little. Love him a little.
That’s the first step towards experiencingכאיש אחד בלב אחד.
L’chaim! May we all do our part towards looking a bit more positively at each other, and through this may we be keilim for borcheinu Avinu kulonu k’echod, for all of the Eibishter’s brochos, until the main brocho of hisgalus of Moshiach Tzidkeinu TUMYM!!!
Hatzlocho Rabo!!
Rabbi Akiva Wagner
There was once a Satmar chosid, who was married for a number of years, without being zoche to children. He approached his Rebbe, the Satmar Rov (R’ Yoel), numerous times, and indeed received many brochos, but still he was childless. Once, losing patience, he approached his Rebbe and demanded a havtocho (a guarantee), saying ‘I’ve already received plenty brochos, I will not leave you alone until you promise me a child’.
The Satmar Rov looked at him in amazement. ‘How can I guarantee anything? Chazal say that the “key” to childbirth is one of theשלשה מפתחות that Hashem keeps for Himself and does not share with anyone else. I can bless you, and I can daven for you, but after all is said and done, it is still exclusively in Hashem’s hands!’
But the chosid was relentless, and would not take no for an answer. Finally, the Satmar Rov told him: ‘I can only give you my brocho, but if you insist on a havtocho then you’ll have to go the Lubavitcher.’ The chosid was desperate, and he called the mazkirus of the Rebbe, and asked for an appointment for yechidus at a time when he could get into the Rebbe while remaining inconspicuous (without getting recognized in foreign territory).
Finally his turn for yechidus arrived, and he went into the Rebbe’s room, and poured out his heart about his problem. The Rebbe listened to him, and gave him a brocho for a child. But the chosid wasn’t about to give up after coming so far, and he gathered his courage and said to the Rebbe ‘I am not asking for a brocho, I’m asking for a promise’. The Rebbe glanced at him sharply, but the chosid repeated his demand, explaining that he was sent for this purpose by his Rebbe, - the Satmar Rov himself. When the Rebbe heard who he’d been sent by, his expression became very serious, and the Rebbe gave him his havtocho.
Afterwards the Rebbe said to him: “you are a chosid of the Satmar Rov. Recently he commemorated a yorzeit, on which occasion he surely held a tisch and said Torah. I would like to hear over something of the Torah that he said for that occasion”. The chosid thought back to the tisch, and told the Rebbe: ‘I remember the Rov asking a question. Chazal tell us "אפילו פושעי ישראל מלאים מצוות כרימון, and the Satmar Rov asked, if they’re poyshei Yisroel, sinners, how can we say that they’re full of mitzvos?!’
The Rebbe’s expression again became very grave, and the Rebbe remarked: “I too have a question on the same maamar chazal; They are, after all, filled with mitzvos, how, then, can they be referred to as ‘sinners’”
¨ ¨ ¨
Recently we wrote about the lesson of the days of sefira, about working on nohagu kavod zeh bozeh. The time of sefirah is a time to improve our dealings with each other.
But the question is: how does one go about that? How can I bring myself to act politely, to behave respectfully, towards someone who is, in my opinion, a lowlife and an unterveltnick? Wouldn’t I be guilty of a lack a proper chassidisher hergesh, if I displayed anything short of disdain towards someone who appears to be undermining the Rebbe’s work (which is basically most of the people in the world, except for me!)?
The basic answer is, I think, that it’s all a matter of perspective. We all have the ability to focus on the virtues of others, and through that to view our fellow Chassidim in a positive light.
He may be a sinner. But he’s also surely filled with virtues, which we have to admit to, if we’re at all honest with ourselves.
The question is: where do we put the emphasis? Do we say: ‘That guy may do a lot of good things, but he’s really a low-life because . . . ‘. Or do we say: ‘That person may have some faults, but he is really such a wonderful person because. . .’
In today’s Jewish world, it has become popular to give much attention to the concept of loshon hora. There are loshon hora clubs[1], and loshon hora contests and loshon hora posters, and any self-respecting contemporary Jewish writer makes sure to include some mention of loshon hora in his (or her) stories.
Indeed, loshon hora is a most severe aveira, that Chazal equate to kofar b’ikar, to heresy, and describe as being deserving of the most stringent punishments. In Hayom Yom, as well as in sichos, the severity of it is addressed.
Yet, the approach of Chassidus in preventing it seems to go a basic step further: The Frierdige Rebbe quotes in the name of the Rebbe Maharash, who said in the name of the Baal Shem Tov (with regards to the Yomim Noraim) – “Hashem does not desire the davening of Yiden; rather he desires to hear praises being said about Yidden!”
Hear Hear!
One short statement that says it all. Lashon Hora means don’t say all of the negative statements (that obviously reflect the things that you think) about your friend. The preoccupation with lashon hora is about not speaking (or as one of the projects is named – “machsom l’fi” - sealing one’s mouth.
Undoubtedly, in some situations that is what Torah requires us to be dealing with.
But it doesn’t end there. Don’t keep silent, and pat yourself on the back for refraining from speaking lashon Hora, while in your mind you have only contempt for that person. On the contrary, do speak about him! Find something nice to say about him! Praise him!
It doesn’t start with the faculty of speech, it starts with the faculty of thought. Think positively. Change your outlook, refine your perspective! View your fellow in a positive light, and there won’t be a need to fight the urge to tell everyone about what a shin vov vov he is.
When the Tzemach Tzedek was asked by his Rebbetzin how he took upon himself the responsibility to risk his life (during the government meetings in Petersburg), despite the fact that Chassidim are dependent on him, the Tzemach said that there are 2 answers; firstly, there are his children [who can continue to lead and guide the Chassidim], and secondly, through practicing achdus, Chassidim will overcome all obstacles, and prevail until the coming of Moshiach.
But Achdus is not merely an act, a superficial manner of conduct. Rather, genuine achdus is a reflection of the ability to cultivate a better outlook, to perceive our fellows in a way that evokes a true love for them. Although we don’t necessarily agree with them in everything, although we may not be able to see eye-to-eye in many areas, he’s still מלאים מצוות כרימון - full of mitzvos and goodness, and I can respect and love him for it.
No-one said that it’s easy (I’ll be the first to confess that it isn’t). Most important things aren’t. But it’s what chassidishe ahavas Yisroel is all about. It’s what the Rebbe constantly teaches and shows us. A person may be a mescichist/anti-meshichist/mushroom etc. He may be (in my not-so-humble opinion) destroying a mosad, a city, or even the whole Lubavitch. A real poshei Yisroel. But he’s still full of beauty and goodness. And you have to be able to see it.
R’ Avremel Levitansky (who’s yohrzeit will be marked just after Shavuous) once related:
When we first came to California, R’ Shmuel Dovid Raitchik (who was the senior shliach in California, having been sent there a number of years before the rest of us) had strong differences of opinion with Rabbi Cunin with regards to the methodology of carrying out our shlichus. The differences of opinion were such that each felt that the other was jeopardizing the chance of carrying out the Rebbe’s directives in the state.
Understandably they led to heated arguments, to the extent that Rabbi Raichik once asked of Rabbi Cunin: ‘Please, if you throw a bomb into my home (because you feel that I’m a hindrance to your shlichus), please take care to aim for my bedroom. My children are not at fault for my views, and there’s no reason to punish them. [Rabbi Levitansky added that Rabbi Raichik was not given to joking or exaggerations].
Nonetheless, even in the midst of their strongest differences, they never failed to come together every Shabbos in Rabbi Raichik’s house for cholent.
It’s not about not having differences. אין דיעותיהן שוות is an unavoidable reality. Rather it’s about finding the means of seeing beyond the differences. To view someone as we would our own child, in whom we manage to find all kinds of virtues, and for whom we find endless defenses for all of his faults. To look at every chossid with a right eye; - with a positive outlook.
It’s about changing our perspective.
So the next time you’re upset with someone, stop, take a deep breath, and look for something positive about him. Praise him a little. Love him a little.
That’s the first step towards experiencingכאיש אחד בלב אחד.
L’chaim! May we all do our part towards looking a bit more positively at each other, and through this may we be keilim for borcheinu Avinu kulonu k’echod, for all of the Eibishter’s brochos, until the main brocho of hisgalus of Moshiach Tzidkeinu TUMYM!!!
Hatzlocho Rabo!!
Rabbi Akiva Wagner
Sunday, May 24, 2009
There is one
I'm not my own person. I am not me. How could that be? For 19 years of my life, I thought I was me. But now, the realization has hit me, hard. Nope, I am but one little part of a very big whole.
I ate my Shabbos meal in the old city, by a man named Gil Locks. All I can say is, you just have to have been there. It was definitely one of the more exciting experiences of my life. He has an amazing story, about how he discovered yidishkeit. I recommend reading his books. Google him.
One of the rules at his meal is, that if you ask him a lot of questions, he gives you one of his books as a reward. I got a book. I'm still shocked. No, I didn't ask the most questions, but maybe the most inquisitive. Or maybe he just sensed that I needed it. I saw it as a sign from G-d. And when I was flipping through the book, I noticed that there's a letter of recommendation in the front, and the date it was written was the 28th of Iyar, which fell out on friday this year. Yup, the day I got the book. Coincidence? I think not.
Life is a journey. Some people are on the right path, they know where they are headed, and how to get there. And some people are confused. I out myself in the latter group. But never fear, because there are people on this earth who are smarter than you, more experienced, and have been around for much longer.
Going back to what I said in the beginning- look at a body of water, and see the sun reflecting off of it. A gorgeous site that I love to watch. Now, look at the particles of light. How many little lights do you see? Your eyes see many, but in truth, it is just one, broken up into many, by the way the water moves. All these little lights are just a reflection of one much greater light, the sun.
These are not my own thoughts, but paraphrased from the book, 'There is One' by Gil Locks.
I will treasure that book, because it was a gift. But more importantly, it was given to ME. Someone believed in me enough to give it to me, to think that I should have it. I hope I can live up to that.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Happy b-day to ME!
Hey everyone, it is my birthday!!! Yay! I'm now 19. I'm a whole day older than I was yesterday. Just like every day. So why celebrate? I don't know, but why question? A b-day is a good excuse to live it up, have fun, make sure you get lots of ATTENTION, and do some good things. So, I'm not asking why.
So far, I've gotten 2 cakes (friends, and family) had a farbrengin, in the process of learning something about shavuos, said the tehillim, and a few more things that might be best to leave out. But it is not yet over, so we shall see what more I can accomplish on this day.
With this power invested in me, on my birthday, I'd like to give all of you a bracha. Yes, it is general, but I have each of you in mind, personally, when I say this.
May you have only revealed good in life, only happiness. May you have the strength to overcome all challanges that G-d puts in your path. May you have health, money, all that your heart desires.
For those that need a bracha to find their bashert- I bless you with that. I bless you with many wonderful children, success in everything, at the right time. Peace, and serenity, and clarity to make the right decisions.
And of course, the ultimate blessing, of moshiach now, which will bring all other blessings in its wake. May this coming year be one filled with all thats good, for me, and all of you.
Happy birthday to me!
Until next year,
Altie
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Freedom
It came out of nowhere. One second, the wall was empty, vast, in all it's whiteness. The next, I looked, and there it was. A tiny creature, crawling up the wall on its spindly little legs. I watched in amusement, as it scurried too and fro, up and down, not sure which direction to take.
I waited for the girly shrieks, announcing that it has been spotted, and will soon be smashed into nothingness, by the shoe of someone brave enough to do so. Possibly me. But they never came. The little thing was safe, for now.
It was cute, I decided. I observed it for a while, and the next time I looked, it was gone, as quickly as it had come.
A bug is so simple. Its only focus is its destination, food, shelter, protection. Its only fear is getting killed along the way by some cruel human, who can't bear the fact that this bug exists, or by another creature, who eyes it as food. But never do emotions come into play.
Bugs don't have the ability to think, to feel, the way humans do. They just act, try to survive. Their goal is not to bother you, only, you may become bothered by them if you allow yourself to be. But it is never their intentions.
They aren't close to anyone emotionally. They create no lasting bonds, involve themselves in no relationships. They are as far away from humans as they come, on the spectrum of life.
Wouldn't it be more simple so be a bug, a mere creature, than a human? To only worry about one thing, survival. Not easy, but simple.
Emotions cloud you. They blind you. People get in the way of your goals. Humans are complex, difficult to understand.
Relationships can go both ways. They can hurt, they can break you, or, they can be beautiful. But you can't know the outcome until you at least try. And even trying can result in heartbreak. So what's the solution?
Wouldn't it be cool to be a bug for a day?
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
*That* subject
If you were to ask me if I am 'shomer negia' (a term I can't stand) I would answer 'obviously'. That's how I see it. It is not even a question for me. I have never touched a guy, and don't plan to, until I'm married. That means no handshakes, business or otherwise, no hugs, no friendly pats, and definitely no punches, though I've been tempted to at times.
There's a book called 'The Magic Touch', by Gila Manolson. It is all about relationships, and the advantage of being shomer before marriage. I recommend reading it, if you struggle with this issue, or if you just want a good read.
This is how I see it:
Something sacred, hidden,
like royalty.
Keep your distance.
Look, no touching.
It's precious,
lock it up,
throw away the key.
Keep it safe, special,
until the time is right.
It is a gift, from you to him.
Here, take me as I am.
Why would you want to ruin that?
It is a present,
wrapped up, with a bow.
Who likes to give, or receive,
a present that has already been opened?
What happens at the beach...
I learnt a few new things last night.
1. It's fun to be spontaneous, and you won't die from it.
2. Tight rope walkers are cool, but do actually fall.
3. If you stand on the sidewalk and sing, with a hat on the floor in front of you, people will actually give you money. (Never fear, it wasn't me.)
4. Israeli's who sell bubble guns on the beach don't make much money, but they do a lot of flirting. And they are irritating. That's why I don't like Israelis much.
5. Taxi drivers who misinterpret what you say will try to hit you, regardless if you are a women or not. Apperently, they have no problem with hitting a girl.
6. Passers by will not come to your rescue, if they don't understand what's going on. (I hope that was why.)
7. Curfew really does exist, and they do expect you to keep it. Oh well.
Now for the million dollar question: what really went down at the beach last night?
1. It's fun to be spontaneous, and you won't die from it.
2. Tight rope walkers are cool, but do actually fall.
3. If you stand on the sidewalk and sing, with a hat on the floor in front of you, people will actually give you money. (Never fear, it wasn't me.)
4. Israeli's who sell bubble guns on the beach don't make much money, but they do a lot of flirting. And they are irritating. That's why I don't like Israelis much.
5. Taxi drivers who misinterpret what you say will try to hit you, regardless if you are a women or not. Apperently, they have no problem with hitting a girl.
6. Passers by will not come to your rescue, if they don't understand what's going on. (I hope that was why.)
7. Curfew really does exist, and they do expect you to keep it. Oh well.
Now for the million dollar question: what really went down at the beach last night?
Monday, May 18, 2009
An attempt at politics
Thursday's my b-day, as I already said. Friday, 28th of Iyar, is yom yerushalayim, a day widely celebrated here in Israel. Interestingly enough, this year, theyre celebrating it a day early, because they don't want to be michalel shabbos. Another thing I love about Israel. (I'm sure there are more things, but I can't think of any right now.)
Sooooo...all of Israel is celebrating my b-day! Yay me!
I got to thinking about politics. Israeli politics, american politics, crown heights politics, any and all of the above. My teacher mentioned it in class today. I very very strongly don't like it. (I try not to use the word 'hate', I think there's too much hate in the world.) All of it. When I hear the word, I shudder. My mind goes blank, my eyes get all glassy, and my ears just close up.
I'll admit something: it makes no sense to me. Whatsoever. Maybe if I understood it more, I wouldn't be so averse to it. But probably not. I think I'll hate it forever.
I stay away from it, because its so confusing. Just so you know, this will be my first and last (iy''h) post on politics.
This is how I see it: a whole bunch of people, with millions of opinions, arguing that their opinion is right. You know what I think? Many of them don't know what they're even talking about. They just like sounding smart.
Now imagine this: a classroom full of girls, around 40, all the age of 18-19, discussing politics. All religious, chabad, coming from similar backgrounds. Now, most of them (I won't say all) didn't know what they were talking about.
We were discussing Israeli politics. My Rabbi teacher was brave enough to say that he loved arabs. (Not the ones that kill Jews, of course. But everyone else.) I seriously thought my class would stone him. I mean, Ch''v he, a Jew, could say something like that??? (I'm being sarcastic, in case you didn't know.)
I refuse to say my opinion on it, because I don't really care to. It is not a topic that I think about, because it doesn't affect me. And in my opinion, you should only state your opinion if you have an informed opinion, not just your own opinion, and you actually have something intelligint to say. Otherwise, keep quiet. (That is just my opinion, so feel free to do whatever you want.) And that's what I did. I kept quiet, and I laughed, at how absurd, and stupid (mind the language) some of these people sounded.
I didn't vote in the presidential elections. I could have, I was already 18. Maybe I should have, but I never registered. I just didn't care. I wouldn't have known who to vote for. If you asked the CHCC (crown heights community council) all Jews should vote for McKaine. My parents voted for Obama. Incidentally, he won. Does that make them heritics? Are they kofer beTorah because they voted for Obama?
According to my friends, Obama is 'bad'. He's evil, he's bad for Israel, he hates Jews, he loves arabs, you get my drift. I just nod my head and keep quiet. I don't really care. He's president now. I don't know what he's going to do. No one can know, before he actually does it. So why not just keep quiet, and give him a chance? Is that so hard? Apparently, it is.
He doesn't know me, I don't know him, we are not friends, and if I sent him a letter, he's probably just scoff at it and throw it out. If it even got past those big thugs called secret service agents. So I don't bother talking about him.
Now, if you think you know anything about politics, more than what you hear in school or yeshiva, and you want to give me a crash course in it, than go ahead.
And if you have any opinion whatsoever, even an uninformed one, you may state your opinion down below. But just know, I might lose my respect for you.
I still hate the word politics. I think it should be banned from the english dictionary.
Sooooo...all of Israel is celebrating my b-day! Yay me!
I got to thinking about politics. Israeli politics, american politics, crown heights politics, any and all of the above. My teacher mentioned it in class today. I very very strongly don't like it. (I try not to use the word 'hate', I think there's too much hate in the world.) All of it. When I hear the word, I shudder. My mind goes blank, my eyes get all glassy, and my ears just close up.
I'll admit something: it makes no sense to me. Whatsoever. Maybe if I understood it more, I wouldn't be so averse to it. But probably not. I think I'll hate it forever.
I stay away from it, because its so confusing. Just so you know, this will be my first and last (iy''h) post on politics.
This is how I see it: a whole bunch of people, with millions of opinions, arguing that their opinion is right. You know what I think? Many of them don't know what they're even talking about. They just like sounding smart.
Now imagine this: a classroom full of girls, around 40, all the age of 18-19, discussing politics. All religious, chabad, coming from similar backgrounds. Now, most of them (I won't say all) didn't know what they were talking about.
We were discussing Israeli politics. My Rabbi teacher was brave enough to say that he loved arabs. (Not the ones that kill Jews, of course. But everyone else.) I seriously thought my class would stone him. I mean, Ch''v he, a Jew, could say something like that??? (I'm being sarcastic, in case you didn't know.)
I refuse to say my opinion on it, because I don't really care to. It is not a topic that I think about, because it doesn't affect me. And in my opinion, you should only state your opinion if you have an informed opinion, not just your own opinion, and you actually have something intelligint to say. Otherwise, keep quiet. (That is just my opinion, so feel free to do whatever you want.) And that's what I did. I kept quiet, and I laughed, at how absurd, and stupid (mind the language) some of these people sounded.
I didn't vote in the presidential elections. I could have, I was already 18. Maybe I should have, but I never registered. I just didn't care. I wouldn't have known who to vote for. If you asked the CHCC (crown heights community council) all Jews should vote for McKaine. My parents voted for Obama. Incidentally, he won. Does that make them heritics? Are they kofer beTorah because they voted for Obama?
According to my friends, Obama is 'bad'. He's evil, he's bad for Israel, he hates Jews, he loves arabs, you get my drift. I just nod my head and keep quiet. I don't really care. He's president now. I don't know what he's going to do. No one can know, before he actually does it. So why not just keep quiet, and give him a chance? Is that so hard? Apparently, it is.
He doesn't know me, I don't know him, we are not friends, and if I sent him a letter, he's probably just scoff at it and throw it out. If it even got past those big thugs called secret service agents. So I don't bother talking about him.
Now, if you think you know anything about politics, more than what you hear in school or yeshiva, and you want to give me a crash course in it, than go ahead.
And if you have any opinion whatsoever, even an uninformed one, you may state your opinion down below. But just know, I might lose my respect for you.
I still hate the word politics. I think it should be banned from the english dictionary.
Pre- birthday post
Yes, it's that time of year. This thursday, 27th of Iyar (I only celebrate the hewbrew one. Incidentally, my english one is the next day, so who knows? I can celebrate both and have a 2 day b-day.) is my birthday. I will be 19 years of age.
I know I know. What's 19? 18 is when you are legal, 21 is when you can drink, and 25 is when you are considered old. So why bother celebrating anything else?
And as much as I want to say, I'll be a whole year older, truthfully, I won't. I'll just be one day older than I was yesterday. Which is every day. So why bother celebrating?
Ok, I'm not taking apart the meaning behind birthdays, and why we celebrate them. Some people know, some don't, most don't care anyway. It's just an excuse to party. Some people don't even need an excuse, but it's nice all the same to have a whole day dedicated just to you.
I'm nervous. Not because I'm getting older, (which is a bit much to comprehend) but because I don't know how to deal with it. Do I party the day away, with friends? Do I sit all day saying tehillim, and make it into something special? Do I ignore it altogether? Get drunk, make it a day to remember?
Bottem line: I don't want it to come yet, because the sooner it comes, the sooner it's gone. And I don't want it to just pass, like a regular day. I want it to mean something. I want to accomplish something through it. How to do that?
Maybe a little bit of everything. Farbrengin, party, celebrate, have fun. (No drinking, even though in Israel I could. Not my style.)
We'll see. I still have 2 days to ponder it. I'll let you know how it goes.
Happy birthday to ME! On thursday. Heads up.
I know I know. What's 19? 18 is when you are legal, 21 is when you can drink, and 25 is when you are considered old. So why bother celebrating anything else?
And as much as I want to say, I'll be a whole year older, truthfully, I won't. I'll just be one day older than I was yesterday. Which is every day. So why bother celebrating?
Ok, I'm not taking apart the meaning behind birthdays, and why we celebrate them. Some people know, some don't, most don't care anyway. It's just an excuse to party. Some people don't even need an excuse, but it's nice all the same to have a whole day dedicated just to you.
I'm nervous. Not because I'm getting older, (which is a bit much to comprehend) but because I don't know how to deal with it. Do I party the day away, with friends? Do I sit all day saying tehillim, and make it into something special? Do I ignore it altogether? Get drunk, make it a day to remember?
Bottem line: I don't want it to come yet, because the sooner it comes, the sooner it's gone. And I don't want it to just pass, like a regular day. I want it to mean something. I want to accomplish something through it. How to do that?
Maybe a little bit of everything. Farbrengin, party, celebrate, have fun. (No drinking, even though in Israel I could. Not my style.)
We'll see. I still have 2 days to ponder it. I'll let you know how it goes.
Happy birthday to ME! On thursday. Heads up.
אין לי מקום לשבת- (No place for shabbos)
This is what every sem girl goes through, every week she has a shabbos chufsha. (off shabbos.)
Ok, not every girl, only those that have no relitives here. That's moi and half the other girls here.
Todays Monday. I started looking last week. And I still have no place to go to for shabbos. I am not worried, I'll find a place. I always do. I mentioned it to my mother on the phone. Big mistake.
Rule #1: never mention to mother.
me: "Hi Ma, ya, schools fine, life's good, didn't go to class today, yup, slept in again. No, no place for shabbos yet"- and that's where the conversation ends.
mother: "Why don't you call this family? They're my friends for years."
me: "no ma, I don't know them."
Mother: "but they are so nice"
me: "I'm sure they are, but I don't know them, and I'm not going to someone for shabbos claiming to know them, through my mother. I'd rather go to strangers. And if they're so nice, then you can go to them for shabbos."
And on. And on. I tell her not to worry, I'll find a place.
The funniest was when she kept mentioning that a friend of hers had a sister who lived in yerushalayim, but she didnt know the name. She kept promising to find it out. When she finally did, it turned out this lady's husband was one of my Rabbi teachers. I laughed and told her I didn't want to go to my teacher's house for shabbos.
So I am still in search of a place for shabbos. Preferably in the old city. This is my second to last off shabbos, as sadly, the year is coming to an end. (Not thinking about it yet.)
Any suggestions? Please call: 1-800-suggest-a-home. Only serious enquiries please.
Ok, not every girl, only those that have no relitives here. That's moi and half the other girls here.
Todays Monday. I started looking last week. And I still have no place to go to for shabbos. I am not worried, I'll find a place. I always do. I mentioned it to my mother on the phone. Big mistake.
Rule #1: never mention to mother.
me: "Hi Ma, ya, schools fine, life's good, didn't go to class today, yup, slept in again. No, no place for shabbos yet"- and that's where the conversation ends.
mother: "Why don't you call this family? They're my friends for years."
me: "no ma, I don't know them."
Mother: "but they are so nice"
me: "I'm sure they are, but I don't know them, and I'm not going to someone for shabbos claiming to know them, through my mother. I'd rather go to strangers. And if they're so nice, then you can go to them for shabbos."
And on. And on. I tell her not to worry, I'll find a place.
The funniest was when she kept mentioning that a friend of hers had a sister who lived in yerushalayim, but she didnt know the name. She kept promising to find it out. When she finally did, it turned out this lady's husband was one of my Rabbi teachers. I laughed and told her I didn't want to go to my teacher's house for shabbos.
So I am still in search of a place for shabbos. Preferably in the old city. This is my second to last off shabbos, as sadly, the year is coming to an end. (Not thinking about it yet.)
Any suggestions? Please call: 1-800-suggest-a-home. Only serious enquiries please.
Where are you, really?
Can you be in two places at once? Physically, maybe. If I straddle the state line. A cool concept, that I've never tried. Mentally, yes. I can be in one place, and my thoughts in another.
If I'm here, then I'm here, right? Wrong. I can be sitting in class, physically, but staring longingly out the window, thinking of the gorgeous day outside, and how I really wish I could be there, and not here. So then, I'm not really here, I'm there.
We went jeeping on friday. As it was coming to an end, we were rushing back to get ready for shabbos. The rabbi said something that I think I'll always remember: If you're here, then be here. Enjoy the jeep ride. Don't be thinking about how little time you have left to get ready for shabbos, because then you are not here, AND you are not there. So you are really no where.
Then he made us all jump into the water, he said he wouldn't leave till we were all wet. That was fun.
A well known chassidic saying goes: "Wherever a man's thoughts are, thats where he is".
So stay in the moment, enjoy the moment, and try not to be in two places at once.
If I'm here, then I'm here, right? Wrong. I can be sitting in class, physically, but staring longingly out the window, thinking of the gorgeous day outside, and how I really wish I could be there, and not here. So then, I'm not really here, I'm there.
We went jeeping on friday. As it was coming to an end, we were rushing back to get ready for shabbos. The rabbi said something that I think I'll always remember: If you're here, then be here. Enjoy the jeep ride. Don't be thinking about how little time you have left to get ready for shabbos, because then you are not here, AND you are not there. So you are really no where.
Then he made us all jump into the water, he said he wouldn't leave till we were all wet. That was fun.
A well known chassidic saying goes: "Wherever a man's thoughts are, thats where he is".
So stay in the moment, enjoy the moment, and try not to be in two places at once.
No computer for 3 whole days!!!
I just got back from a three day shabbaton. (I was going to write about it, but decided not to bore ya'll with the details. If you really want to know, you'll have to ask.)
We left early thursday morning, and didn't get back until late motzei shabbos. Which meant, no computer for 3 days. It was a little scary, I have to say. Plus, I checked it right before we left, for like two seconds, and then the whole trip I was thinking about all the emails I had to reply to, and the blog posts I wanted to write....Not very good.
On shabbos, I saw a computer at the house of the people that hosted us. I looked at it longingly, then berated myself, because it was shabbos, and I was thinking about computers.
At this point, I use the computer at the least...3 times a day, and most...5, and counting. Does anyone know of a good 'computers anonymous' I can join, to cure me of this ailment?
All of this inspired my next post...read on, and comment.
We left early thursday morning, and didn't get back until late motzei shabbos. Which meant, no computer for 3 days. It was a little scary, I have to say. Plus, I checked it right before we left, for like two seconds, and then the whole trip I was thinking about all the emails I had to reply to, and the blog posts I wanted to write....Not very good.
On shabbos, I saw a computer at the house of the people that hosted us. I looked at it longingly, then berated myself, because it was shabbos, and I was thinking about computers.
At this point, I use the computer at the least...3 times a day, and most...5, and counting. Does anyone know of a good 'computers anonymous' I can join, to cure me of this ailment?
All of this inspired my next post...read on, and comment.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Jam 'em in
I know it's sefira, I know I shouldn't be listening to music, I know people may judge me by this post, but....
I can't help it. Every time I leave the house, out comes the ipod. In goes the headphones. My ears are sore, my brain is sick of hearing the same music jammed over and over again, but it's a habit. How do you break habit?
As I'm walking outside, there's someone walking towards me. A stranger. I realize I don't have my headphones in, and in a split second, they are resting snuggly in my ears, for all the world to see. As I pass by this stranger, I look him in the eye. Ya, that's right buddy, I got headphones in. I'm cool, I'm confident, I'm in my own little world, and you can't bother me. But he already is.
It is my cacoon. G-d forbid I should walk out without headphones, and the world will think I'm a loner, with no life. I'm walking by myself. The choice is, pull out the cell phone, call home, bother the parents for a while, or any friend who's willing to hear me talk, or....the ipod. So I choose the latter.
Once, just once, I took them out. I walked down the street, head held high, just me. No ipod. It felt weird, I felt like something was missing....
But I heard things. I heard cars drive by, I heard birds chirping, I heard dogs barking. I heard people talking, conversing with each other.
And you know what? I felt so much more alive, so much more humen. I passed by a complete sranger, and I smiled. Hi, stranger. No, no headphones this time. No cell phone. Just me. Yup, this is me. Take it or leave it.
He smiled back. There are good people in this world. My ipod is sitting in my purse, fully charged, just waiting to be pulled out. But maybe I wont. Maybe, instead of plugging myself into a device, I will enjoy the natural sounds of the world.
It's worth it.
A letter to G-d
I was davening shemone esrai in mincha today, (yes, I do that occasionally) and when I got to shma koleinu, I inserted a small prayer of my own, in english, as I usually do.
Then it hit me. I'm always asking G-d for stuff, never thanking Him for the good He's already given me. Even though technically thats what davening itself is about, but I mean words from me, froim my heart.
At first I thought, hey, G-d knows what I'm greatful for, why would I need to verbalize it?
But you know what? He's our father, and as much as parents know their kids appreciate them, it's nice to hear it once in a while.
So I made a list of the Top 10 things I'm greatful for. There are many more, of course, but I think these are priority.
1. My health. The fact that there's nothing seriously wrong with me. (Though there may be things that are not so serious.)
2. My family. The fact that they love me, and accept me for who I am.
3. My friends, whom I love (you know who you are, and I'm only gonna say this once, so cherish it!) who care about me, and tollerate me, (some of the time) who make me laugh, who complete me, and make me ME.
4. My brain, because I was given a smart one, and the ability to think. (Even if I don't use it all the time.)
5. My ability to write, to communicate my feelings. I know there are people who have a hard time with this.
6. The fact that I'm Jewish (and lubavitch). Some people have to discover it, but luckily, I was born into it. Saved me a lot of time and effort.
7. My emotions, that I'm able to feel, to love, to laugh, and cry.
8. My feedom. Physically, that I'm not locked up in jail, or some third world country. Mental freedom, to think what I want. Freedom to do what I want, make my own choices. (Within reason, of course.)
9. I'm American! Cuz I think we're the coolist.
10. And lastly, the invention of the cell phone, so I can be in touch with the world, even when I'm out. (Though it annoys me when I'm sleeping, and people call, and wake me up, even if I really want to talk to them.)
Tell me, what are you greatful for?
Then it hit me. I'm always asking G-d for stuff, never thanking Him for the good He's already given me. Even though technically thats what davening itself is about, but I mean words from me, froim my heart.
At first I thought, hey, G-d knows what I'm greatful for, why would I need to verbalize it?
But you know what? He's our father, and as much as parents know their kids appreciate them, it's nice to hear it once in a while.
So I made a list of the Top 10 things I'm greatful for. There are many more, of course, but I think these are priority.
1. My health. The fact that there's nothing seriously wrong with me. (Though there may be things that are not so serious.)
2. My family. The fact that they love me, and accept me for who I am.
3. My friends, whom I love (you know who you are, and I'm only gonna say this once, so cherish it!) who care about me, and tollerate me, (some of the time) who make me laugh, who complete me, and make me ME.
4. My brain, because I was given a smart one, and the ability to think. (Even if I don't use it all the time.)
5. My ability to write, to communicate my feelings. I know there are people who have a hard time with this.
6. The fact that I'm Jewish (and lubavitch). Some people have to discover it, but luckily, I was born into it. Saved me a lot of time and effort.
7. My emotions, that I'm able to feel, to love, to laugh, and cry.
8. My feedom. Physically, that I'm not locked up in jail, or some third world country. Mental freedom, to think what I want. Freedom to do what I want, make my own choices. (Within reason, of course.)
9. I'm American! Cuz I think we're the coolist.
10. And lastly, the invention of the cell phone, so I can be in touch with the world, even when I'm out. (Though it annoys me when I'm sleeping, and people call, and wake me up, even if I really want to talk to them.)
Tell me, what are you greatful for?
Take off your rosy glasses
A saying said by pessimists, because they want the whole world to think like them.
Don't be happy, don't think the world is a good place. Let me tell you the truth: it's really not. So take off those rosy glasses, and see how things really are, in all their 'true' colors.
G-d forbid the whole world should turn optimists, and the pessimists will become minority. That's what they're afraid of.
Well guess what? I'm not wearing glasses, I'm wearing contacts, and they're killing my eyes. Thank you pessimists. The world could use a few more like you.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
What am I leaving, when I'm done here
When it's time for you to go, to say goodbye, to exit this world for the great abyss above, beyond us, that space we call heaven (or hell), how will you be remembered? Will people remember you at all? Do you even want to be remembered?
Will they remember you for your smile, your infectious laugh? Will they remember you for your kindness, your love for helping people?
Will they remember that you never went to class, that you never tried? Will they remember that you were a bully, all those times you stole people's snack?
Will they picture your sour face, when they think of you? Be reminded that you were a pessimist, that nothing could ever make you happy?
When they have money problems, will they remember how greedy you were, how you never shared, or gave charity?
When they see shadows, will they think it's you, returning in the form of a ghost, haunting them?
Will your loved ones go on those tv shows, in which the host can supposedly communicative with souls from the other world, so they will be able to talk to you?
Will they think of you at all? Will they miss you, and wish you were back here with them? Wish that they could hug you again, feel you close?
Will the world remember you for your great discoveries, your work that added so much here? Will they remember talks you gave, books you wrote, words you spoke?
Are you leaving behind anything at all to be remembered by?
We are not supposed to focus on death. Judaism stresses life. Our purpose here is to make our lives as fulfilling as we can. To prepare ourselves for the next world, so we will be granted entry.
But everything has a cause and effect. If I waste my life here, I won't be accepted up there. And no one will remember me for anything worthy.
Is your life fulfilling? Are you going somewhere, getting things done, accomplishing something worthwhile?
What are you leaving behind?
Will they remember you for your smile, your infectious laugh? Will they remember you for your kindness, your love for helping people?
Will they remember that you never went to class, that you never tried? Will they remember that you were a bully, all those times you stole people's snack?
Will they picture your sour face, when they think of you? Be reminded that you were a pessimist, that nothing could ever make you happy?
When they have money problems, will they remember how greedy you were, how you never shared, or gave charity?
When they see shadows, will they think it's you, returning in the form of a ghost, haunting them?
Will your loved ones go on those tv shows, in which the host can supposedly communicative with souls from the other world, so they will be able to talk to you?
Will they think of you at all? Will they miss you, and wish you were back here with them? Wish that they could hug you again, feel you close?
Will the world remember you for your great discoveries, your work that added so much here? Will they remember talks you gave, books you wrote, words you spoke?
Are you leaving behind anything at all to be remembered by?
We are not supposed to focus on death. Judaism stresses life. Our purpose here is to make our lives as fulfilling as we can. To prepare ourselves for the next world, so we will be granted entry.
But everything has a cause and effect. If I waste my life here, I won't be accepted up there. And no one will remember me for anything worthy.
Is your life fulfilling? Are you going somewhere, getting things done, accomplishing something worthwhile?
What are you leaving behind?
Dance for me
Don't dance for me. Dance instead of me.
Every time I go to a gathering, such as simchas beis hashueva, or like Lag Ba'omer in Meron, it always turns out that the men dance, and the women stand and watch, clapping along. Why does it have to be that way?
No, the men don't have more stamina then us. If anything, I think women have more energy when it comes to dancing.
I love watching the men dance, I really do. Seeing them twirl, running round and round in dizzying circles, putting their whole selves, mind and body into it, with such enthusiasm, it makes me smile. It makes me happy. But it also makes me wish that I can join in.
I know men and women are very different. I know that if they were together in one room, especially for dancing, they would each dance very differently. It would no longer be about the simcha, the enjoyment, the simple pleasure. It would no longer be a dance for themselves.
It would turn into a competition. Dancing for each other, with each other. It's natural. Men and women simply attract. (Actually, it's not simple at all.) It would take away from the whole point, the whole meaning of it.
So G-d created laws. Tznius. Separation. Women can't dance in front of men. The reasons are obvious. But why can't we have our own side? Why don't they put up a proper mechitza, make sure the women have where to dance? The only time I get to dance, to really let myself go, is at a wedding.
I think the answer is clear. In a public setting, there is no way to keep women dancing, a private spectacle. The second the men get wind of it, they would be over there, watching, wanting to join. Walking through the ladies section 'by accident', cuz they are lost. Thats just how it is.
So I come. I watch, as the men dance. I envy them, their freedom. The laws of Tznius do apply to them, but are way more strict for women. I don't question it, I just wish it were different. I'm a little jealous.
So you dance for me. You dance instead of me. If you are a man, go to these gatherings, dance your heart out, and know that I am watching. Know that you are not dancing for one, but for all us women too.
Take a chance
I might have won the lottery today. Too bad I didn't buy a ticket.
Life is all about taking chances. If I didn't get out of bed today, I may never have met the man of my dreams, fallen in love, and lived happily ever after.
Or, I would have missed class, and failed the test. Either way, getting out of bed is the first step.
If you don't try, you will definitly not succeed.
Some chances are easier to take then other. They come naturally to us.
Do you ever stop to think about it every time you cross the street, get into a car, fly on a plane? Do you think about the possibility that you might die, that this trip may be your last?
Most people don't. It's as natural as breathing.
When a person walks on a balance beam, there's a big chance that they might fall. But the more practice they have, the less likely it will be. The more chances you take, the easier it becomes.
If you open your heart, and let people in, there's a big chance you will get hurt, and end up regretting it. But there's an equally big chance that you will find love, friendship. That you will gain from it.
With every challange you come to, it's so much easier to shrug your sholdiers, and walk away, instead of approaching it head on, and tackling it. But then where would we be?
Where would we be if Adam didn't take a chance by asking G-d to create Chava? If he stopped to think that she might be a witch, and horrible company, if he knew that eventually she would cause him to sin, and ruin his easy life in heaven, maybe he wouldn't have asked. But then, none of us would be here, there would be no world.
Where would we be if Nachson ben Aminodov didn't walk into the sea, until it split? Perhaps G-d wouldn't have split it, and we would all be dead, or still in Egypt today.
Where would we be if Moshe didn't speak up for us, when we sinned by the golden calf? When G-d wanted to wipe us all out, and start anew, and Moshe defended us.
We wouldn't be here, thats where.
All these people took a chance, a big one. It's not easy to mess with G-d, but they did, for the greater good. And as leaders, it was harder. Everyone was watching them, judging them, following what they did.
Every decision the president makes, he has the responsibility of a whole nation on his hands. When soldiers go out to war, they are taking a chance. Theres a big chance they may never return.
When a mother sends her child off to school, she is taking a big chance letting him out of her sight.
But look at the alternative.
If we never took chances, we'd stay in bed all day, locked in a dark room, living a boring, depressed life. Scared of every noise, and our own shadow. Not a pretty picture.
We only live once. We only get a certain amount of oppertunities, and chances, on this earth.
Every time we go on a ride at the amusement park, theres the chance that it will stop working, and we'll be stuck. But the enjoyment we get from it wins out.
Live on the edge. Be yourself, be crazy, enjoy life. Take chances, embrace change, approach oppertunities with enthusiasm.
Don't let anyone change your mind, or influence your decisions. Don't listen to what everyone tells you, most of them don't know what they're talking about.
In the words of the great poet, Robert Frost, 'two roads diverged in the woods, and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that's what made all the difference.'
Jump off the cliff, open your heart, look for good things. Take a chance, and it will take you to good places.
In hindsight...I should have seen it coming
Somehow, it always works like that. If I was able to live life in retrospect, I would do a much better job at it.
If we had some sort of time portal, where you could go back in time and fix things you did wrong, life would be so much easier.
But it doesn't work like that. Yes, it is so easy to look back on a situation and say, I shouldn't have done that, or, if only I did that instead, things would have turned out so differently.
And they may have. If you took a different road then the one you chose, your life may have been drastically different. But you'll never know. You can go your whole life looking back, and saying, what if. But whats the point of living life that way?
G-d blessed us with hindsight, so we could look back, regret our mistakes, and hopefully never do them again. We can not change the past, only make a better future.
He also gave us foresight. You can try your hardest to think before you do, try to make the right decision, so that when you travel down that road, you won't be constantly looking over your sholdier, wishing you took a left instead of a right. Regretting the decisions that you made.
Don't rely on hindsight. Think first.
If we had some sort of time portal, where you could go back in time and fix things you did wrong, life would be so much easier.
But it doesn't work like that. Yes, it is so easy to look back on a situation and say, I shouldn't have done that, or, if only I did that instead, things would have turned out so differently.
And they may have. If you took a different road then the one you chose, your life may have been drastically different. But you'll never know. You can go your whole life looking back, and saying, what if. But whats the point of living life that way?
G-d blessed us with hindsight, so we could look back, regret our mistakes, and hopefully never do them again. We can not change the past, only make a better future.
He also gave us foresight. You can try your hardest to think before you do, try to make the right decision, so that when you travel down that road, you won't be constantly looking over your sholdier, wishing you took a left instead of a right. Regretting the decisions that you made.
Don't rely on hindsight. Think first.
Lag Ba'omer
Fire dancing, moving, crackling.
Eyes glowing, faces smiling, so happy, excited.
Music. Children dancing, people clapping.
Singing, all of us, voices raised high. Attracting attention, not caring, living in the moment.
Songs that pull at your heartstrings, songs that make you want to dance, to move.
Lag Ba'omer. Feel the excitement in the air.
Lag Ba'omer. Feel the excitement in the air.
So many people, watching us, drawing closer, attracted to our flames, our singing, our group. Togetherness.
So many little fires, each its own existance. But together, they become one, merging, forming one big fire, reveling in the moment, celebrating on this happy day.
Arms linked, hands classped, dancing together. Drawing children in, dancing with them, showing them what Lag Ba'omer is all about, how we celebrate properly.
Arms linked, hands classped, dancing together. Drawing children in, dancing with them, showing them what Lag Ba'omer is all about, how we celebrate properly.
Letting go, being yourself. A certain freedom.
Drummer dude. So many drums, the kids are so excited. So are we.
Drummer dude. So many drums, the kids are so excited. So are we.
Tapping to the beat, more music, more dancing, as the light from the fire casts a glow on it all. Surreal.
Roasting marshmellows, potatoes. Kumtzitz. Swaying in the night time breeze, one voice, haunting, slow melodies.
Roasting marshmellows, potatoes. Kumtzitz. Swaying in the night time breeze, one voice, haunting, slow melodies.
An experiance. Making it last.
Boarding the bus for Meron. 3 hour drive. So tired, yet so hyper, jittery with excitement.
Boarding the bus for Meron. 3 hour drive. So tired, yet so hyper, jittery with excitement.
Arriving, 2 am. Darkness. So many people. Confusion. Trying not to get lost.
Holding hands, pushing our way through the crowd. No idea where to go, just follow everyone else.
Up the hill, being pushed along with the flow.
Up the hill, being pushed along with the flow.
Arriving at the kever, inching our way in. Staying close to the door.
Being pushed from the front, being pushed from behind. It's like a game. Somehow, I became the ball.
Rushing prayers, can't stand here, need to get out.
Push our way out, holding onto eachother, trying not to lose anyone.
Suddenly, I'm stuck. No where to move. It's like a jigsaw puzzle, that no one can solve.
Suddenly, I'm stuck. No where to move. It's like a jigsaw puzzle, that no one can solve.
People pushing, trying to get passed, people behind me, trying to get forward.
My feet are moving, but my body is not. I feel like I'm falling, but there is no where to fall to.
It's like being squeshed between two walls, like being flattened in a sandwich maker.
I look up, the only place theres space to move. I can't breath.
I look up, the only place theres space to move. I can't breath.
I ask G-d for help.
I catch a lady's eye, and we both laugh, because we are all in the same boat. No one can move.
Then, it bursts, like a water baloon. A gap opens, people move, surging, so suddenly.
Then, it bursts, like a water baloon. A gap opens, people move, surging, so suddenly.
Trying not to fall, moving with the flow, and we're out!
Watching the men dancing. So powerful, so mesmerising.
Watching the men dancing. So powerful, so mesmerising.
Blasting music, singing, so many people.
3 more hours to kill.
Walking around, half asleep. I feel like I'm drunk.
3 more hours to kill.
Walking around, half asleep. I feel like I'm drunk.
There's a free beer cart, there is that option, but not my style.
We found the 'Moshiach square', where all the Lubavitchers congregate. Yechi playing over and over again on the speakers.
We found the 'Moshiach square', where all the Lubavitchers congregate. Yechi playing over and over again on the speakers.
Screaming with the recording, 'we want moshiach now!' So tired, not sure what I'm doing.
Yellow flags. Guys giving out moshiach cards, pictures of the Rebbe on it.
We got stacks, and thats what we did the rest of the night.
Trying to convince people to take them, handing them out to strangers.
Trying to convince people to take them, handing them out to strangers.
Some were happy to oblige.
Others, threw them on the floor, and cursed us out.
It hurt me, it made me so mad.
This is who I am. I am a Jew. I am religious. But most importantly, I am Lubavitch, a follower of the Rebbe.
This is who I am. I am a Jew. I am religious. But most importantly, I am Lubavitch, a follower of the Rebbe.
If you don't agree with it, if you think we are 'christians', or crazy, if you feel like cursing us out, telling me exactly what you think of chabad, fine. Thats your opinion. But don't insult the Rebbe, don't throw him on the floor.
Ironically, they were throwing G-d on the floor too, because there was a tefillat haderech on the back.
So tired, so crowded, so many people.
So tired, so crowded, so many people.
Dawn. 5 am. The sky turns blue, slowly. The sun breaks over the horrizon. A new day.
Vasikin minyan. Teffilin stands, trying to get people to do a mitzva.
Walking around in my tiredness state, wishing I was more awake, wishing I didn't say half the things I said, and do some of the stuff I did.
Walking around in my tiredness state, wishing I was more awake, wishing I didn't say half the things I said, and do some of the stuff I did.
Wishing the night wouldn't end.
6 am. Have to find our bus, have to go.
6 am. Have to find our bus, have to go.
Don't want to leave.
Say goodbye to the moshiach square, to Meron.
Say goodbye to the moshiach square, to Meron.
Not knowing when, or if I'd ever be back again.
Lag Ba'omer. In Israel. In Meron.
Lag Ba'omer. In Israel. In Meron.
You just had to have been there.
As much as I can tell people about my experiance, so much of it is in my heart.
As much as I can tell people about my experiance, so much of it is in my heart.
Emotions, that can't be explained.
Memories, that will remain forever.
As sad as I was that it was over, I realized, it will never be over if you don't forget it.
As sad as I was that it was over, I realized, it will never be over if you don't forget it.
If you always remember the experiance, if you think about it, make it come alive in your mind.
I'm still reeling from that night.
I'm still reeling from that night.
Trying to figure out if it actually happened, or was just a figment of my imagination.
It was so unreal.
But I hope it happened. I hope I didn't imagine it.
But I hope it happened. I hope I didn't imagine it.
Because I would have missed out on so much,
if I was never really there.
Monday, May 11, 2009
What if it's all a lie?
What if I wake up one day and realize, none of this is true? That I'm not really here, that neither I, nor you, really exist?
What if I open my eyes and see, the world is not really here, that is is all a sham?
What if G-d is sitting up there laughing at us, at the effort we are putting in, when He knows the truth, that it is all just a game, and we are the players.
What if life is one big maze, and there is no exit, no way out?
What is the concept of moshiach is made up, that we are here forever, to live, and die, and exist in this meager place we call a world?
What if every word I am typing right now is not a word at all, that it means nothing, in the big picture?
What if I'm not really here, I just think I am.
What if it is all a lie?
So many questions, and no answers.
What if I open my eyes and see, the world is not really here, that is is all a sham?
What if G-d is sitting up there laughing at us, at the effort we are putting in, when He knows the truth, that it is all just a game, and we are the players.
What if life is one big maze, and there is no exit, no way out?
What is the concept of moshiach is made up, that we are here forever, to live, and die, and exist in this meager place we call a world?
What if every word I am typing right now is not a word at all, that it means nothing, in the big picture?
What if I'm not really here, I just think I am.
What if it is all a lie?
So many questions, and no answers.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
My little friend
I made a new friend this Shabbos. He is younger than me by many years, 13, to be exact. He is all of 6 years old, while I am a staggering 19. (Or will be, in two weeks.) Yes, in his presence, I did feel old. But he made me feel special, needed. Sometimes, friendship really is that simple.
He spoke hebrew, like a typical Israseli, and I spoke English, with a little bit of broken hebrew. But we somehow understood each other. Of course, I let him do most of the talking, as children love to be the center of attention. By nodding, and murmering 'mhm', and 'really?' once in a while, I assured him that I was indeed listening to every word he said.
In the begining, he was a little shy. But once he warmed up to me, and learnt how to say my name proprly, (after giggling and mispronouncing it wrong purposely) we hit it off quite nicely. he was so eager to take me around the moshav, show me where the shul was, the playground, his school. I was happy to oblige, which made him more happy, and me more happy in return. It's a whole cycle.
He stuck his cute little hand into my big one, and we were instantly best friends. For a child, it is so easy to love, to befriend. It is so simple for them. If they like you, they tell you so to your face. In my case, he told me he was going to baracade himself by his front door, and never let me leave, and that I would stay in his house forever. I told him that I think my parents might be a little sad, so he reconsidered.
When they don't like you, or think you are mean, for whatever reason, they tell you that too. It is only when they get older that they become self conscious in relationships, uncomfortable with feelings, and such. And it is only later that they realize it isn't nice to say 'I hate you' to someones face, just as it isn't nice to talk about people behind their backs.
But children, they are all cut from the same mold. It is easy to make them happy, it is easy for them to show love, and it is so easy to love them back.
As we strolled down the street, hand in hand, and stared out at the gorgeous view, I told him about New York. I described how there are only 2 trees there, and lots of people. He stared at me in amazement, and asked if we only have houses there. I said, yup, but also some buildings, a few people, and a handfull of cars. He seemed to sympathise, and feel bad that we didn't have the beauty of Israel, and I agreed with him wholeheartedly.
It was an amazing Shabbos. We visited the farm, said hi to the cows and horses, went on a walk, had a picnic outside. I attempted to read him a book in English, and translate it to hebrew, then I switched to reading a hebrew book, which was equally difficult, having no idea what I was saying, or what expression to use.
But throughout it all, seeing his beautiful smile light up his face, made me so happy. I do wish all relationships can be that simple.
But I think only the innocence, and frienship of a child, can melt your heart.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Instant inspiration
You walk into a bakery, and there's a display case, with all the scrumptious looking desserts and pastries they sell. Imediately, two particular delights catch your eye. The first is, the chocolate chip cookies. Soft, and gooey, warm from the oven, they look so good, they make your mouth water. For 5 dollars, you can get a bag full of these goodies. They are easy, on the go, instant pleasure.
The second item is a triple decker, chocolate mousse, creamy creation. It looks so perfect, no one wants to be the first to cut it, to ruin its perfection. This one takes time. You must sit down with it, maybe with a cup of coffee. Eat it slowly, savoring each bite, making it last.
They both look so good. Which one will you choose?
In this day and age, people want things now. They are not willing to wait till later, even if getting it now might mean, compromising on the quality. We live in a world of instant pleasure. Zap a dinner in the microwave, grab a cereal bar on the go. Faster faster, life is so short, there's no time for anything.
If we were able to, we'd tell the teachers, don't prepare lessons anymore. Don't teach it properly, how it should be taught. How about squeezing a semesters worth of lessons into one week? Just shorten everything, stuff it into our brains, so we can have more free time.
A man came to Hillel, the sage, and asked to be taught the whole Torah while standing on one foot. It's not possible. There are great Rabbis who spend their whole life studying Torah, and still haven't learned all of it. When something has quality, you need to take time on it, break it apart, analize it, contemplate it. Otherwise, you ruin it, by trying to learn it in one sitting.
Which is more worth it? Instant inspiration? Cut everything down into one paragraph, one sentence, because I have no time to read a long drasha? Or doing it properly, taking some time out of your busy life, actually learning something, and getting inspired.
You tell me.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Shabbaton in Tsfat
As I'm writing this, my face is burnt, soon to be peeling. It hurts every time I scrunch my nose. I always forget to put on sunscreen, which is usually fine, but can be a problem if you are going to spend a lot of time out in the hot Tsfat sun.
The sun was so strong, a fiery ball high up in the sky. It was so perfect, I wanted to reach up and grab it, hold it in the palm of my hand.
I always say I don't 'do' hikes. But I did this one. The weather was gorgeous, the view was stunning, and the hike was not bad at all. We went from the mountains of canaan, to Rosh Pina. It was more like walking through a field, then climbing any mountain. There were lots of cows along the way. I stopped to say hi, and give the my number, until my friend reminded me that they are israeli, and probably only spoke hebrew. Oh well.
We wet to Amuka, where a holy person, Yonatan ben Uziel, is burried. Among the many things people come to daven for, it is known that praying at his grave is a segulah for a shidduch. You circle the roof seven times while saying Ana B'koach. I tried it, and who knows, maybe it'll work.
We showed up from the hike, hot and sweaty, and tired, to be greeted by 250 girls from other seminaries in Israel. It was like a camp reunion all over again. Except we stood out, in t-shirts and sneakers, while everyone else was in blouses and skirts, looking like the perfect put together sem girls. What an entrance. Shrieking, laughter, and hugging filled the halls of the main dining room. We were girls, and we hadn't seen each other in...about 2 weeks. Typical. And our shabbaton had begun.
Friday we woke up early. The host seminary had a packed program planned, but my friends and I ditched, and went out on our own to explore. I always say that the most fun is spontaneous.
We found the 'midrachov', the main center of Tsfat. A quant cobblestone street filled with shops, and resteraunts. It was busy, and packed, on this friday afternoon, everyone shopping, and getting ready for shabbos.
We made our way down to where the old part is. It was like stepping back in time. The street is so narrow, the houses are old, and a lot of the original structure of the house is intact. Little boys, and old men, in long peyos and black coats walked by. They glanced at us like we were the strange ones. I guess in their world we were out of place.
Next we went to the old cemetary. On the way, we stopped at an overpass, where theres a fence, and a gorgeous view of the mountains, valleys, sun and sky. I stood on the ledge by the railing, leaned back with my eyes closed, and breathed in deeply. It was so peaceful, a soft wind blowing. I felt at one with nature, serene.
We davened at kivrai Tzaddikim, prayed for anything and everything. I was kind of sad, being in a cemetary, among the dead. I felt bad that they had to live in the ground, while I walked around free. Though some of the graves were really cool.
Returning to the seminary, hectic rush to get ready for shabbos, line for the showers, last one, no hot water. Applying makeup 5 minutes before candle lighting, getting dressed, hair dripping wet, running to go light. Two minutes left. A crush of girls all trying to get near the candles, can't reach the tzeddaka box, put in some pennies, light my candle, watch the wick catch fire, get pushed to the side, cover my eyes, talk to G-d, say the blessing, take a deap breath- and its shabbos at last.
Sitting outside watching the sunset, I felt at peace. It was shabbos in holy tsfat, and all was ok. The sun sank so fast, it was there one second, and the next time I looked, it was gone, hiding behind the mountains, begining to rise in another part of the world.
Joining the other girls for a program, davening together, lecha dodi, welcoming shabbos. Making our way to the dining room, where a crowd of 300 girls were trying to squuuuesh into one small room. But if theres room in the heart, theres room at the table. We all fit, though it was clausteraphobic. The food was good and plantyful. And there was chicken soup. I think it's not shabbos with out chicken soup. There were inspiring divrei Torah, and each of the 4 rabbis there spoke. All in all, it was a nice meal.
Afterwards there was a farbrengin with the rabbis, but I had my own mini farbrengin with my friends. More close and personal. And the greatest thoughts come late at night, when you are tired and in need of sleep.
Shabbos day was hot. Once it started, it just didn't stop. I woke up early, and there was so much happening, that I decided to just store it all, and think about it later. We had breakfast and a shiur, davening, our meal. Rest hour, we went back to the old city, got lost, found our way. It was so weird, but nice to see the same streets that were so busy and full on friday, now quiet and empty. The spirit of shabbos. We tried asking some kids to use their mini bikes, but they claimed we would break them. Then we asked a little girl to borrow her ball, my friend stood in the street playing the game, 'A my name is'... as the little girls watched on in amazement, wondering what this weird american girl was doing. Our walk finished off with a hike up the road, the streets are all hills there. We tried running up the street, but almost collapsed after 10 seconds. My friend wanted to climb up the rocks, but didn't get very far.
Back at the sem, we had shalosh seudas, a game for pirkai avos, mincha, and seder niggunim, till the end of shabbos. 300 girls singing together, the age old melodies, was a beautiful way to end shabbos. We said goodbye to shabbos, a bit sad. Daven maariv, sefira, havdala, smashed together in the dining room. Back to our rooms, pack up and change for the banquet. An amazing MC, my dear friend. A nice program, with a speaker all the way from Italy. A video prensentation, and to end it off, a group picture with all 300 girls. 1 am, our bus was waiting, impatiantly, as we all hugged our friends, and said goodbye. I didn't want to leave, didn't want to get on the bus, but the driver threatened to leave without me, and being israeli, I knew he would do just that. So I got on the bus, and the shabbaton was over.
I'm still feeling things from shabbos, reliving the experiance, and trying to grow and change from it. There was a lot to internalize in just 3 short days. It was hard to say goodbye to all my friends, and the gorgeous Tsfat mountains. I would have loved to wake up to that view every morning. It was hard to return to sem, and regular life. The shabbaton was an escape, an oasis, and now it was time to go back. But all good things must come to an end. I only hope that I changed from the experiance, in some small way, and that it will have an impact on my life.
And I know that the experiance will live on, and stay with me forever.
The sun was so strong, a fiery ball high up in the sky. It was so perfect, I wanted to reach up and grab it, hold it in the palm of my hand.
I always say I don't 'do' hikes. But I did this one. The weather was gorgeous, the view was stunning, and the hike was not bad at all. We went from the mountains of canaan, to Rosh Pina. It was more like walking through a field, then climbing any mountain. There were lots of cows along the way. I stopped to say hi, and give the my number, until my friend reminded me that they are israeli, and probably only spoke hebrew. Oh well.
We wet to Amuka, where a holy person, Yonatan ben Uziel, is burried. Among the many things people come to daven for, it is known that praying at his grave is a segulah for a shidduch. You circle the roof seven times while saying Ana B'koach. I tried it, and who knows, maybe it'll work.
We showed up from the hike, hot and sweaty, and tired, to be greeted by 250 girls from other seminaries in Israel. It was like a camp reunion all over again. Except we stood out, in t-shirts and sneakers, while everyone else was in blouses and skirts, looking like the perfect put together sem girls. What an entrance. Shrieking, laughter, and hugging filled the halls of the main dining room. We were girls, and we hadn't seen each other in...about 2 weeks. Typical. And our shabbaton had begun.
Friday we woke up early. The host seminary had a packed program planned, but my friends and I ditched, and went out on our own to explore. I always say that the most fun is spontaneous.
We found the 'midrachov', the main center of Tsfat. A quant cobblestone street filled with shops, and resteraunts. It was busy, and packed, on this friday afternoon, everyone shopping, and getting ready for shabbos.
We made our way down to where the old part is. It was like stepping back in time. The street is so narrow, the houses are old, and a lot of the original structure of the house is intact. Little boys, and old men, in long peyos and black coats walked by. They glanced at us like we were the strange ones. I guess in their world we were out of place.
Next we went to the old cemetary. On the way, we stopped at an overpass, where theres a fence, and a gorgeous view of the mountains, valleys, sun and sky. I stood on the ledge by the railing, leaned back with my eyes closed, and breathed in deeply. It was so peaceful, a soft wind blowing. I felt at one with nature, serene.
We davened at kivrai Tzaddikim, prayed for anything and everything. I was kind of sad, being in a cemetary, among the dead. I felt bad that they had to live in the ground, while I walked around free. Though some of the graves were really cool.
Returning to the seminary, hectic rush to get ready for shabbos, line for the showers, last one, no hot water. Applying makeup 5 minutes before candle lighting, getting dressed, hair dripping wet, running to go light. Two minutes left. A crush of girls all trying to get near the candles, can't reach the tzeddaka box, put in some pennies, light my candle, watch the wick catch fire, get pushed to the side, cover my eyes, talk to G-d, say the blessing, take a deap breath- and its shabbos at last.
Sitting outside watching the sunset, I felt at peace. It was shabbos in holy tsfat, and all was ok. The sun sank so fast, it was there one second, and the next time I looked, it was gone, hiding behind the mountains, begining to rise in another part of the world.
Joining the other girls for a program, davening together, lecha dodi, welcoming shabbos. Making our way to the dining room, where a crowd of 300 girls were trying to squuuuesh into one small room. But if theres room in the heart, theres room at the table. We all fit, though it was clausteraphobic. The food was good and plantyful. And there was chicken soup. I think it's not shabbos with out chicken soup. There were inspiring divrei Torah, and each of the 4 rabbis there spoke. All in all, it was a nice meal.
Afterwards there was a farbrengin with the rabbis, but I had my own mini farbrengin with my friends. More close and personal. And the greatest thoughts come late at night, when you are tired and in need of sleep.
Shabbos day was hot. Once it started, it just didn't stop. I woke up early, and there was so much happening, that I decided to just store it all, and think about it later. We had breakfast and a shiur, davening, our meal. Rest hour, we went back to the old city, got lost, found our way. It was so weird, but nice to see the same streets that were so busy and full on friday, now quiet and empty. The spirit of shabbos. We tried asking some kids to use their mini bikes, but they claimed we would break them. Then we asked a little girl to borrow her ball, my friend stood in the street playing the game, 'A my name is'... as the little girls watched on in amazement, wondering what this weird american girl was doing. Our walk finished off with a hike up the road, the streets are all hills there. We tried running up the street, but almost collapsed after 10 seconds. My friend wanted to climb up the rocks, but didn't get very far.
Back at the sem, we had shalosh seudas, a game for pirkai avos, mincha, and seder niggunim, till the end of shabbos. 300 girls singing together, the age old melodies, was a beautiful way to end shabbos. We said goodbye to shabbos, a bit sad. Daven maariv, sefira, havdala, smashed together in the dining room. Back to our rooms, pack up and change for the banquet. An amazing MC, my dear friend. A nice program, with a speaker all the way from Italy. A video prensentation, and to end it off, a group picture with all 300 girls. 1 am, our bus was waiting, impatiantly, as we all hugged our friends, and said goodbye. I didn't want to leave, didn't want to get on the bus, but the driver threatened to leave without me, and being israeli, I knew he would do just that. So I got on the bus, and the shabbaton was over.
I'm still feeling things from shabbos, reliving the experiance, and trying to grow and change from it. There was a lot to internalize in just 3 short days. It was hard to say goodbye to all my friends, and the gorgeous Tsfat mountains. I would have loved to wake up to that view every morning. It was hard to return to sem, and regular life. The shabbaton was an escape, an oasis, and now it was time to go back. But all good things must come to an end. I only hope that I changed from the experiance, in some small way, and that it will have an impact on my life.
And I know that the experiance will live on, and stay with me forever.
You are what you wear
The first thought that popped into my head when I saw him was, I wonder how long it took him to do his hair this morning. It looked like a porcupine, each spike so carefully in place. If you told me he stuck his finger in a socket, and got electricuted, I would've believed you. My hands itched to touch it, and see if it was as prickly as it looked. But I don't think he would have appreciated that.
I have no idea what kind of thoughts were going through his head, or how he was feeling. I didn't know his name, or what he ate for breakfast that morning. I knew absolutly nothing about him, except one very obvious thing- he spent a lot of time on his hair that morning.
This can be telling me that he cares a lot about his appearance, that he's vain, that he likes spiked hair. Maybe I'm wrong, but those were the obvious conclusions that I came to.
We are all very similar on the inside, our internal organs. We all have a brain, a heart, kidneys, liver, the same limbs. Our thoughts and our feelings are very different, but everything else inside is pretty much the same. If we all walked around naked, we would all be equal, on some level. But G-d made the concept of clothing, of outer appearances. That is what makes us different, unique.
Everyone has different styles of clothing, diffrent ways of wearing our hair and make up, we all like different accessories. No two people look the same. If we took the inner, and outer appearances, and weighed them by importance, the external shell would definitly be worth more, because that is all the world sees.
If you knew that today, you were meeting the queen of England, and you had just one chance to make a good impression on her, wouldn't you take care how you dressed that day?
The world sees what you show them. If you sit in your room and lock the door, and you dress up in jeans and a leather jacket, and sing along to your favorite band, no one will ever know that you like to sing, or dress like that, unless you parade outside.
Every morning when you wake up, you are making a big decision. How do I want the world to see me when I step out my door? Will I wear a suit and tie to work, aqnd look like a presentable bussinessman? Will I walk out in a roab and tichel, or put on a skirt and pantyhose? Do I care what people think of me, or how they see me?
A lot of people have bad dreams in which they show up to school in pejamas. It is an embarrasing experiance, because it is not publicly acceptable to walk outside in pj's. If you knew that today you would be strip searched at the airport, you might wear your pretty undergraments. But luckily we only have to worry about our outer clothing.
Imagine that every morning there is a big billboard for all to see, with a picture of you as you walked out the door. You had no idea a picture was taken of you. Now the world will see that you are frowning, you are wearing a sweatshirt and sneakers, no makeup, your hair is in a messy bun, and you are gulping down a bowl of cereal and milk as you walk down the steps. Now we can conclude that: you are in a bad mood, you are in a rush this morning, maybe you woke up late, and you don't seem to care what you look like, because you are dressed like a shlump.
The world will not know that you are heading to your lab, that you are a research scientist, and you are about to discover a cure for cancer. All we know is what we see, what you choose to show.
Though it might be wrong, the world judges by appearances. A famous musician once too part in an experiment. He sat in the subway station, dressed in rags, looking like a beggar for the world to see. He played on his violin, a beautiful melody that he composed, and he watched as one by one people passed him, without a glance, not recognizing him in his beggar get-up. Some random people threw him coins, others hurried pass with no backwards glance. All because he carefully chose what to wear that morning.
Before you step out your door every morning, look at yourself in the mirror, and ask yourself, what is my message that I am trying to relay to the world, and does my appearance reflect that?
If you want the world to know that you don't care about your body, and you are there for anyone to take, and you are dressed in a tight t-shirt, and mini skirt, then pat yourself on the back, and walk out the door. because you have accomplished your goal.
If I want the word to know that I am a good aidel Jewish girl, that I try hard every day to do what G-d wants, that I am not perfect but striving to be, and I am dressed appropriately, in tznius attractive clothing, then hopefully the world will get what I am trying to say.
With everything you wear, you are making a statement, you are communicating a message to the world, to everyone who will see you that day.
So make sure to dress the part, because we don't want anyone getting the wrong message.
Prayer and confusion
It is so quiet as I stand here,
confused, unsure, out of place.
I feel like I don't belong here,
So why have I come?
On this hot day,
when I could be doing anything,
touring, shopping, hanging out with friends,
I chose to come here, and stand in silent prayer.
People have dreamed of this all their lives.
To come to Eretz Yisroel, and pray at graves of holy tzaddikim.
But here I stand, not sure why I've come,
with nothing to say.
Prayer. It is something I do every day, more than once.
In hebrew, from a siddur, or words straight from my heart, to G-d's ears.
I don't know if G-d listens, but I know He hears.
I don't know if He cares, but I try.
A holy man, passed on long ago, burried here.
Be the wings for my prayers,
be the envalope for my letter,
put in a good word for me up there with G-d.
But I feel selfish.
What have I done for you, to merit your help?
You don't know me. I am a nameless soul, a living being.
I stand out in this graveyard, where all are dead, and I am alive.
So why do I come?
Because people have told me to,
Because it is a good thing to do.
Because it is a custom passed down through the ages.
Except these are not reasons, they are explanations.
I don't know why I come. And as I mumble chapters of tehillim,
and pray for health, shidduchim, parnassa, happiness, safety,
and all the other things I ask for,
I ask G-d to help me make sense of it all.
It makes no sense to me, but I pray.
It makes no sense to me, but I come.
I makes no sense to me,
but I hope that one day, it will all become clear.
And someday soon, I will not need to stand in a graveyard and pray.
There will be no graveyards.
I will not stand out as a living being amongst the dead,
because very soon, with G-d's help, they will be dead no more.
confused, unsure, out of place.
I feel like I don't belong here,
So why have I come?
On this hot day,
when I could be doing anything,
touring, shopping, hanging out with friends,
I chose to come here, and stand in silent prayer.
People have dreamed of this all their lives.
To come to Eretz Yisroel, and pray at graves of holy tzaddikim.
But here I stand, not sure why I've come,
with nothing to say.
Prayer. It is something I do every day, more than once.
In hebrew, from a siddur, or words straight from my heart, to G-d's ears.
I don't know if G-d listens, but I know He hears.
I don't know if He cares, but I try.
A holy man, passed on long ago, burried here.
Be the wings for my prayers,
be the envalope for my letter,
put in a good word for me up there with G-d.
But I feel selfish.
What have I done for you, to merit your help?
You don't know me. I am a nameless soul, a living being.
I stand out in this graveyard, where all are dead, and I am alive.
So why do I come?
Because people have told me to,
Because it is a good thing to do.
Because it is a custom passed down through the ages.
Except these are not reasons, they are explanations.
I don't know why I come. And as I mumble chapters of tehillim,
and pray for health, shidduchim, parnassa, happiness, safety,
and all the other things I ask for,
I ask G-d to help me make sense of it all.
It makes no sense to me, but I pray.
It makes no sense to me, but I come.
I makes no sense to me,
but I hope that one day, it will all become clear.
And someday soon, I will not need to stand in a graveyard and pray.
There will be no graveyards.
I will not stand out as a living being amongst the dead,
because very soon, with G-d's help, they will be dead no more.
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