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Complacent feelings The feeling of completing an assignment and finishing a project is very rewarding. Ask anyone who's had to deal with deadlines and the “eleventh hour”, what it felt like when the task was accomplished. I would imagine that we've all been there at some time or other. It should therefore come as no surprise that my feelings upon completing the “March Of the Living” series were quite cheerful and contented. I felt joyful and pleased that I managed to “get it out of my system” by last Friday, just in time for last week's “Good Shabbos” email. The elated feeling of finishing the job led me to complacency, though. Last Sunday was Erev Shavuos. This Biblical festival, marking the delivery of the Ten Commandments and of solidifying the Jewish people's standing as G-d's chosen and distinct nation, is of paramount centrality and exceptional meaning for all things Jewish. Notwithstanding the primary relevance of the festival of Shavuos, and despite my ongoing commitment and custom to share a few words prior to Shabbos and Yom Tov, I approached my established practice with dispassionateness and a lackadaisical attitude. I justified my mellow demeanor by telling myself how I had just shared words of Torah the previous Friday, and, more importantly, I was “done” with my March Of the Living articles. Not giving the whole issue much thought, I sat at my computer late in the day just to check my email. I had spent the day preparing for the Yom Tov in leisure and with ease. My calmness was short lived, however. I opened an email from a good friend, and it read as follows: I hope you are sending out a Shavuos message. I'm sure my friend who sent the email had no clue how “to the point” his email was. The “point” was so “pointy” that it “burst my bubble” of sedation and doldrums, and it shattered my sense of ease. Realizing that there's at least one person who wants to enter the festival with what he's usually accustomed to, I began to furiously get to work. Looking at the watch, I knew I had very little time to finish my latest assignment. The “Good Yom Tov” email was sent about an hour before the holiday – very late relative to the way it is usually sent, but at least it went out. On Monday morning, following the reading of the Ten Commandments and services, I noticed someone in Shul who hadn't been around for a while. The person informed me that coming to participate in the services and to hear the Ten Commandments was a decision made due to the email I – almost didn't! – send. You can be sure that I shared with the person the story which led to me sending out the email, and that I almost didn't send out the email, and it would have meant that this person - who came to Shul – may have, G-d forbid been deprived from this opportunity because of me! Feeling really grateful to the person who alerted me about sending the email for the festival, I reminded myself about the story of the second Passover, described in this week's Torah portion, Beha'alosecha. The Torah relates that there were people who missed the celebration of Passover. These people complained to Moshe that another chance should be granted to them in order to offer the Paschal lamb and partake of the Matzah and Maror. They wanted a “do-over.” The Almighty sides with their persistence, and “Pesach Sheini”, the second Passover, is celebrated one month after the “real thing”. The minor festival of Pesach Sheini is marked, these days, by everyone, not just by those who missed Passover the first time around. The custom is to eat some Matzah on this day, commemorated just under a month ago. Pesach Sheini is therefore a lesson for us all. The lesson is: It's never too late. We always have a second chance. We just need to be persistent. Even if there is a situation in which complacency has set-in, perhaps even self-made complacency, we need to forge ahead and know that it's never too late to do the right thing, and to demand to be allowed to experience and perform the right thing. At times we tend to ignore something because it's too difficult. Sometimes we tend to overlook duties and responsibilities feeling that we've reached the pinnacle, or that we have perfected all there is to accomplish. We must never resign ourselves to resting on our laurels. The Torah is reminding us that with determination, perseverance and tenacity, we can find a way to accomplish and to do what is needed to be done. And it's not just about us. We usually never know who will be impacted and affected by our determination and focus. We can even get a fellow Jew back to the Mountain of Sinai . It's never too late. It's never over. Certainly not to do the right thing. A time for wine. While traveling on a plane earlier this week, the flight attendant pushed the familiar cart down the plane's isle. On the cart, Delta Airlines was offering five varieties of snacks to the passengers, including peanuts, granola bars and cheese crackers. Having plenty of food of my own, I was not inclined to choose a snack. I respectfully declined a snack. Ten minutes later the flight attendant returned to where I was sitting. She was holding the snack-basket, and stated: you can accept these peanuts; they're Kosher! She then proceeded to show me how on the back of the small bag of peanuts, a tiny kosher symbol, a “star-K,” was imprinted. The lady then said: Isn't this a sign that the nuts are Kosher? I confirmed that yes, indeed, these peanuts were Kosher. Thinking that the woman must be Jewish, I said: How did you know about Kosher and to look for the special symbol”? “I am a flight-attendant,” she replied. “My job is to help serve people what they need, and do this with a smile. I therefore make it my business to discover the various needs of people… I have trained myself to look-out for kosher symbols for that very reason.” With a smile, the lady then said, “So won't you please take one or two bags?” The woman was not Jewish. I was very impressed that she chose to pay attention to a detail which is important to Jewish people. I was very moved that on this particular flight she took the time and effort to find the symbol for my, personal benefit. I graciously received the peanut bags. About five minutes later the flight-attendant returned triumphantly with a couple of “chewy granola bars” in her hand. “Here,” she said stretching out her hand holding the bars, “I see that these are also kosher.” Indeed they were Kosher. However, right next to the small O-U symbol was the letter D, designating the contents as dairy. I explained that the bars contained dairy ingredients, and as such, despite the fact that they were kosher, I wasn't able to partake of them. I have flown dozens of times from Atlanta to New York over the years, as well as to various destinations both domestic and international. Never has a flight-attendant returned to my seat to insist I accept the snack they are offering. If you decline something, they are happy to move-on. This person was truly looking-out for her passengers, and with a smile. How refreshing! The more I thought about what the stewardess did, the more elated I felt. Yes, her job was to look-out for people. I think, though, that this conduct was going over and beyond the call of duty. How many times would I have gone out of my way for a person who originally declined to accept something? The prevailing attitude is usually: If the person doesn't want it, push ahead to the next customer! Making people feel good is a message consistent with a gleaning from this week's Torah portion, Shelach, in an area of the portion usually overlooked. The Torah commands the Jewish people that whenever an offering is presented to G-d in the Beit Hamikdash, the holy Temple, it must be accompanied by a wine benefaction, which was poured into a tube-like hole adjacent to the alter. It matters not the kind or the type of offering, animal or grain. Wine is required for all offerings without exception. The meaning and message of the wine libations are numerous. My own way of looking at this commandment is the suggestion that the wine offered is a message about offering with joy and with happiness. It's about the “smile” and making people happy. Wine is a unique drink, for it relaxes people and – if enjoyed in the right proportion – reveals joy and happiness. The specialty of wine is demonstrated by its special Brochoh of Hagafen with which we are surely all familiar. Wine is a component present at all occasions of a Jewish journey. It is offered at a Bris, when a Jewish male child is introduced to his Jewish soul (a girl's soul is introduced immediately; no need to wait). It's introduced at a wedding, when a man and a woman have completed their solitary journey, and have arrived at their union to begin their journey of life. Wine is introduced when the week's journey folds into Shabbos and Jewish festivals, and as the spiritual journey of Shabbos and the festivals end into the weekdays. (Wine is not required at a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, for those occasions are a continuation of life.) Each time we are on the “plane” of life, or, as the Torah portion presents, we find ourselves embarking at an occasion to strengthen our connection to the Almighty at the Temple, thus solidifying and further enhancing our journey of life, we are reminded that it's not just service we are asked to provide, but that the service must be accompanied with joy and happiness. A smile costs us nothing. Its affect, however, can be priceless. Spill out your smile, hand out your enthusiasm, and serve your joy. You'll feel good. Especially so when you see how good you've made the other person feel. FEEDBACK: “You have brought back the memories of my 25 years as a Delta Flight attendant. “I considered it my duty as a "Jewish" flight attendant (of which there were not many) to teach and explain the meaning of Kosher, as other flight attendants found out I was Jewish and asked about Kosher laws. “This was particularly evident during the years that meals were served, and in particular [the routs we flew to and from] New York or Florida , where we had many special Kosher meals. “The misconception about Kosher was rampant and I loved being able to "educate" those who did not know what constituted the meaning of Kashrut. I always told them that I would rather they ask about it then continue with a misconception. Quite often their idea was that kosher food was ‘blessed by a Rabbi' which I always found amusing. “Some of my best memories are those of the times I shook up the misconceptions of being Jewish to both flight attendants and pilots. Sometimes I would explain to them what being Jewish meant, and they would say, "But you are different"... I would always say, “no I am not”... (Remember that their concept of Jews was at times confused with their concept of ‘New Yorkers' and their sometimes brusque manner). “I would then have to tell Delta crew that not all Jews are New Yorkers and most important not all New Yorkers are Jewish... “Most important I wanted them to understand that being Jewish is a "good thing" and if that is what I left them with and a little more knowledge than they started out with, then I couldn't ask for more. “Thank you for evoking the memories and I am so happy that a flight attendant took the time to care and understand...” JH, Atlanta .
“This was a wonderful email as I am really having a hard time right now. I can't put my finger on it.... maybe just overloaded, maybe just really down, maybe not enough shul... This email did make me feel a little better. (Name withheld), Atlanta . Korach The streets of the Holy city of Tzefat are said to be mystical. Many, especially the tourists, walk the narrow, pedestrian-only, cobble stoned, up-and-down roads, and feel “something” special. The natives must be pretty appreciative of all those people who come to experience these feelings, in particular those who leave behind a substantial penny for souvenirs, trinkets and candles. Walking through the ancient streets of Tzefat myself about a month ago as part of the “March Of the Living,” I was keeping my eyes open for gifts, prizes and goodies to take back with me for my family, loved ones and friends. In the midst of all this, with most of my attention focused on supporting the local economy by purchasing mementos and gifts, one of my students approached me. She said that she had a question about Jewish law she was discussing with her friends, and they needed my verification and decision. They wanted to know, she said, if it's true that a person who has a pierced nose – or pierced anything else in the body – can be buried in a Jewish cemetery. As a result of my focus on buying gifts, I didn't pay too much attention to the student posing the question, and once the question was asked, I also didn't pay much attention to the bigger picture, since the answer to the question is very obvious: There's no restrictions of burial on a person who's pierced. Had I paid better attention, I would have realized that the one asking the question had been “dying” to get her nose pierced – something she and I discussed, and for which my opinion was only of disgust and disdain. But the student, bless her heart, felt that I had just given her the okay. With a shrill yell of “Thanks Rabbs”, she dashed off to get mutilated. All I could do was stand-by and wonder how she finally got the better of me. A rebel will be a rebel. Those who have a “fire in their belly” will find a way to spread the “heat.” I was disappointed in myself for not having the presence of mind to pay attention to what this student was trying to do. It's something which, in fact, I continued to think about, and it actually continued to bother me – until this week. Studying this week's Torah portion of Korach, I looked at the story in a different light, and, in a way, I feel somewhat better about it. Korach was the consummate rebel. His leading a mutiny against Moshe and the discord and chaos he attempted to impart is treated with contempt and repugnance. What a rabble rouser, what an ego-maniac, what a loser! As the portion relates, Korach and his clan was dispatched-of by the ground opening-up and swallowing them all down into the abyss. There have been plenty of people like Korach who have managed to show-up throughout history, each leaving a path of discord and trouble in their wake. Yet, the Torah highlights this particular person, Korach, and we actually name an entire Torah portion after him – something not even Moshe or the great Patriarchs enjoy! Rebellion is fueled by great energy. In the case of Korach, the ultimate rebel, his vision was good. Even Moshe agreed with his desires to grow in holiness and his need to make a difference. A rebellion which gives a mouthpiece to ambition and drive to make the world and oneself better – is a revolution which will, indeed, make the world and oneself better. Many revolutions in the world are from people who cannot accept the status quo, and – rightfully – refuse to tolerate injustice and misguided ideals. Korach's mistake was in his focus. Had Korach channeled his desire and need to challenging himself and his faction of rebels to improve and to assist the leadership in improving others, we would be talking about a person who really made a big difference in his life and in other's. Korach, though, chose to bring down the existing leadership through ridicule, scorn and strife. He did nothing to help anyone, and ended destroying only himself. And it's no different than so many revolutions, whose motivations have been sincere and idealistic, but which have led to unhealthy and unholy conclusions. Nonetheless, the energy of rebellion comes from a very deep place. This is energy which must be harnessed and cherished. Regarding the revolution of the Sixties, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, of righteous and blessed memory, called on society to appreciate the call of the youth as their searching for something deeper, more meaningful and a more productive life than their parents. Unfortunately, much of their energy was channeled into wasteful, meaningless and even dangerous pursuits. But that's the fault of the leaders and guides, who allowed people with deluded and defective goals to shepherd and steer those with positive feelings to imprudence and foolishness. So, to the youth who are rebelling we say: Learn from Korach to allow your energy to boil over so that you can make a difference by changing yourself and others for the good and positive. Just watch the hole in the ground. And, for crying out loud, watch your nose! Chukas My dear friends:
On this day, 15,000 people will each be granted about two minutes to visit the Rebbe's “Ohel”, the Rebbe's resting place in New York , around the clock. One of those people will be me. For the rest of the day, we will study extra Torah, recite additional prayers, and perform even more acts of kindness and other Mitzvos, in commemoration and in memory of our righteous and holy Rebbe. On this day, we will also reflect upon the greatness and lifetime achievements and goals of our beloved and holy Rebbe, and look for ways to strengthen ourselves to further and broaden them. I therefore dedicate this week's email to the Rebbe's memory and to his vision for all of us to contribute to making this world not just a better place, but the perfect world, with the coming of Moshiach. I also dedicate this email to the memory of a five-month old infant, Yisroel Noach Ben Horav Menachem Mendel, who was yesterday taken-back from his parents, family and community by the Almighty G-d. Yisroel was also the grandson of my esteemed and dear colleagues, Rabbi Yossi and Mrs Dassie New, the Rebbe's head emissaries to the state of Georgia . Walking through the cemetery – as I often do in my capacity as a Rabbi and friend – is an experience in silence. There is nothing more quiet and still than death. As the one privileged to lead our Shul's “Chevra Kadisha” (burial society), the standstill of the departed person is a constant reality in my life. The absolute silence of the dead begs the question about the structure of this week's Torah portion, and, actually, about the how G-d decided to share and teach the lessons of the Torah. There is no single Torah portion which includes more movement and traveling than this week's portion of Chukas. The words, “And they [the Jewish people] traveled” appear five times in this portion. We are told about 3 different wars the Jewish people waged in the desert. We encounter yet another insurgency of the Jewish people, ironically, in connection to more traveling. Wherever one chooses to read in the portion, one would encounter commotion, bustle, and even pandemonium. In other words, this portion is the complete opposite of silence and quiet. However, the beginning and opening of the portion deals with the laws of… death! And as if that's not enough, interspersed through the portion is the death of two great luminaries, Miriam and Aharon, Moshe's siblings. We even have the famous story of Moshe hitting the rock (and not talking to it), which led to HIS death. So much death and silence. So much activity and noise. Do these two polar opposites both need to be related in the same portion, interwoven into one another? I am routinely asked to explain, to talk or to lecture about the mysteries of the Kabalah, the esoteric and the “secrets” of the Torah and Judaism. I often find that the subject of “life after death” is the most fascinating title to this form of study. People are extremely mesmerized and captivated about the soul and what happens after its journey in this world is completed. And yet, the Torah says not one single word about “life after death!” For the Torah is “Toras Chayim”, the Torah of life. G-d Almighty in His Torah conveys that everything about human beings is life. In contrast to other religions, there's nothing holy to human beings about death. Glorifying death – as brutal, savage evil has displayed once again this week – is the obsession and epitome of contamination and spiritually polluted grime. The laws in the beginning of this week's portion about a person becoming ritually unclean after being in the presence of a deceased body make it abundantly clear that there's nothing holy, for us humans, about death. By commanding that a person in an unclean state, who became unclean by being in close proximity to a deceased body, cannot come anywhere near the Holy Temple , is as if G-d is saying: Please, keep that away from Me and My Temple – the holiest place on earth. But death is a fact of life. There is not a single living organism that lives forever. The Creator made us all in a way that at some point – until the coming of Moshiach – everyone experiences the passing from the physical world. And it's not only that humans pass away from this world. Other humans are affected, and many times transformed forever, by the passing of a loved one. We all know of people who have been struck by the ultimate loss, and we are aware of the hole that is formed in the depth of the survivor's heart, creating a scar, a wound, that can never be understood by one who hasn't experienced that particular loss. If death is so abhorrent and so utterly spiritually devoid, why does every single created being experience it? And why have loved ones go through all the pain of loss and bereavement? I have no idea why. The appropriate response to any loss is silence – as silence as death itself, for there is something about death that is forever inexplicable and could never be integrated. A gap between the mind and the heart is expected and normal. All the explanations in the world and beyond, could not – and must not – eliminate the devastation, the tears, the pain, the shock and the grief. There is, however, a second issue: Purification from death. There is a prescribed method, described in this week's portion, how to rid oneself of the impurity of death: To take ashes of a red heifer – ashes that signify the death of something that was once very much alive – and dissolve them in “Mayim Chayim”, “living waters”, the waters of life. The ritual of the red heifer showed not only a technical law on how to remove ritual impurity from the body of a contaminated person, but rather, a response to death, a recipe for renewal, a roadmap for healing. G-d is saying that the only way for the human being to get past the clutches of death is by intertwining the end with the beginning, to remember that every end also harbors a new beginning, both for the soul that ended its journey on earth and for the people left behind. Each sunset creates the opportunity for a new dawn. The energy which is created by human reaction to death can be, and should be, channeled into the river of “living waters”, in order that the ashes of death be revived to accomplish the ultimate of positive: Purification and moving away from death by focusing upon and doing “living” things. This week's Torah portion, about the silence of death and the commotion of life is the perfect portion to share and to teach the message of the Living G-d: Choose life, live life, and turn death into life. My the Holy one, blessed be He, give strength, courage and comfort to all of us to be able to actualize the above message. The Lubavitcher Rebbe was a person whose personality changed so many people's heart. His message, his legacy and his spirit continues to live with us, to inspire and motivate us to continue transforming everything to life. In this vein, I share the following, typical story about the Rebbe, from www.therebbe.org A woman from the Chabad-Lubavitch Community in Brooklyn was pulled over by a N.Y.C. traffic cop for some traffic violation. Standing outside her open car window and watching her search for her license and registration papers, the police officer caught sight of a picture of the Lubavitcher Rebbe in her open purse. "Excuse me, maam," he asked, "are you one of the followers of this Rabbi?" "Yes," she replied. "Well, in that case I'm not giving you a ticket." He closed his ticket book and continued, "Do you know why? Because this Rabbi," he pointed to the picture she was now holding in her hand, "Did a very big miracle for me." "Well," said the grateful woman, "since you aren't giving me the ticket, I have time to hear the story." The policeman smiled and said, "It's my favorite story, but I haven't told it to many Jewish people, in fact I think that you are the first." The cars were whizzing by behind him and he had to raise his voice slightly. "The story goes like this: I used to be in the police escort that once a week escorted the Rabbi to the Montefiore Cemetery (where the Rebbe's father-in-law and predecessor, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, is interred). I got to know some of the young men who accompanied the Rebbe, and I learned a lot of things. They are very friendly people, which you probably already know, and we talked a lot while the Rabbi was inside praying. "Well, one day I saw that all the fellows there were really talking excitedly to each other so I asked them what happened. So they told me that the Rabbi does a lot of miracles for people, but today he did a miracle that was really something. I didn't even ask what was the miracle that they were talking about, I just asked them if the Rabbi helps non-Jews also. "'Sure,' they said, 'The Rebbe helps anyone who asks. Why? Do you need something?' So I told him, this young fellow, that me and my wife had been married nine years with no children, and a week ago the doctors told us that we had no chance. We had spent a lot of money on treatments, seen all sorts of big professors, we were running around like crazy for the last six or seven years, and now they told us that they tried everything and there is no chance. You can't imagine how broken we were. My wife cried all the time and I started crying myself. "So this young man tells me, 'Listen, the next time that you escort the Rebbe to the cemetery stand near the door of his car and when he gets out ask him for a blessing.' So that is just what I did. The next time I was in the escort I stood by his door and when he got out I said to him: 'Excuse me, Rabbi, do you only bless Jewish people or non-Jews too?' "So the Rabbi looked at me like a good friend, it was really amazing, and said that he tries to help anyone he can. So I told him what the doctors said, and he said I should write down on a piece of paper my name and my father's name together with my wife's and her father's names and that he would pray for us. So I did it, my hands were shaking so much I almost couldn't write, but I did it and you know what? My wife became pregnant and nine months later she gave birth to a baby boy! The doctors went crazy, they couldn't figure it out, and when I told them that it was all the Rabbi's blessing they just scratched their heads and -- Wow! I felt like the champion of the world! "But here comes the good part. Do you know what we called him? What name we gave our baby boy? Just guess! We called him Mendel after the Rabbi. At first my wife didn't like the name because its not an American name, but I said, No! We're calling him Mendel! Each time we say his name we'll remember that if it weren't for the Rabbi this boy would not be here. "But when our parents heard the name they really objected. They said, 'With a name like that, all the kids will think he's a Jew or something and they will call him names and be cruel to him. Why make the kid suffer for no reason?' 'That's just what I want,' I said to them. 'When he comes home and says that the other kids called him names and beat him up because he has a Jewish name, I'll tell him that I want him to learn from those other kids how not to behave. They hate the Jews for no reason, but you should love the Jews, you should help the Jews. You just tell them that without that Jewish Rabbi called Mendel you wouldn't be here at all, and then maybe they'll start thinking differently too!' COMMENTS FROM FRIENDS: …Your weekly comments [are sent to me] and many of them surround my computer screen so I can reread them daily. But this week's comments [about “Living Death”] hit an even deeper core for me for several reasons: I, too, serve on the Chevra Kadisha, and have repeatedly experienced the unique spirituality of preparing another person for burial. As a native Atlantan, all too often I knew the woman since her 40's and can relate wonderful stories of her to the others as we work together. I am also fortunate to have my sister as a member of the Chevron Kadaicha and we get to share this special time together. In addition, I have a close friend who lost her 29 year old son several months ago. He went to sleep and did not wake up and they still do not know the cause of his death. As a friend who is also a psychologist, I have tried to help understand her feelings, especially of anger (I do not work with her on a professional level). Your comments about death as just what I have been saying (although I do not relate them as eloquently as you do). So I am emailing them to her for comfort. Thank you so very much for your words of wisdom, faith and positive attributes of man. Toda Reba, Marilynn, Atlanta .
I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your weekly Torah messages. They are a constant reminder to me of how our Torah is truly a guide for living our lives. CM, Atlanta . Rabbi, DM, Atlanta . I liked this Devar Torah a lot – from Alaska with love… CO Your email was as always spirit-lifting. Thank you for sharing these great insights. CS, Atlanta TOUCHING RELATIONSHIPS LAND OF GOLD THE DEED INDEED On a common weekday, Jewish people pray three times a day: Morning, afternoon and night. The morning prayers are by far the longest of them all, and they also require the (male) person to be wearing his Tallis and Tefillin. While the three daily prayers share some common denominators in their structure and demeanor, it's obvious that the morning prayers, being that they call for extra time and “gear,” require extra attention – In the arenas of location, designating more time, etc. And so it was earlier this week, upon landing in the Los Angles airport from Australia, that I found myself needing to find a quiet – and hopefully secluded – place in which to don my large Tallis, wrap my Tefillin boxes, and spend the half hour or so it takes to complete the morning service, while awaiting for my connecting flight back to Atlanta. After encountering some technical difficulties with the travel arrangements, it was getting late. There was no option of waiting until Atlanta to pray, for we would be landing well into the night. I then spotted a waiting area which had just been vacated from its passengers. Watching the plane leaving the gate, I approached the lady at the counter, explained my particular (peculiar?) needs, and she directed me to an even more secluded spot, behind a wall, to pray. By the time I finished praying and making my way to the gate for the Atlanta flight it was afternoon. I realized that I should pray the afternoon prayers now as well, because the sun was soon to set since we were traveling against it. Praying on the plane would be complicated, since its cramped quarters are not usually conducive for Davening. I was about to begin this short service in the, by now, almost empty waiting area, when the final call for my flight was announced. I approached the counter and I asked the guy if I had five minutes to pray the afternoon prayers. “You have plenty of time,” he said, “but we're about to close the door of the plane. No prayers will help you then.” Oh well, I thought with disappointment, I will just have to find a way (and a place) to do the praying on the plane. When I arrived at my seat, I realized from the continuous and ongoing activity on the plane, that we're not leaving so fast. I therefore continued standing, tied my thin black, sash-type of string (called “Gartel”) around my jacketed waste (as I always do during prayers), picked up my Siddur, and began to recite the introductory Ashrei prayer, leading to the Amidah, the “standing section” of the prayers. I took the customary three steps back, then three forward, bent my knees, bowed my head, and away I went. The space between seats on a plane – if you can call it that – is very narrow. Trying to STAND in that space is almost impossible. After a while, my squeezed and bent knees began to feel the affects of standing a little like a pretzel. Compounding the discomfort of my legs were two children sitting in the “bulkhead” seats, immediately in front of me, aged 3 and 5 respectively, who weren't just squawking at me – everyone must have been, and I don't think I look any more “strange” to people when I'm praying then when I'm walking and talking… These kids, as kids go, were looking at me in total disbelief, and calling, first their mother and then their father, while pointing right at me – “Look!” “Look!” “LOOK!” I tried my best to finish as quick as I could, all the while lamenting my silly decision to pray right then and there, in front of the whole plane, and not wait until mid flight, when I could find a more private spot in the back of the plane somewhere. When the prayers finally came to an end, I removed my black “Gartel”, my jacket, my hat, (and the dull feeling in my relieved legs,) and placed my garments in the overhead bin. I tried not to look up at all the people that must have found my behavior “interesting”, and headed for my seat as quickly as possible. But I had been caught. From the corner of my eye I noticed a woman a few seats back waving at me. “Oh no,” thought I, “Please, not now!” But she had other ideas. She stood up, and came towards me. “Oh,” I said recognizing the woman as a congregant from our Shul, “it's you, Karen!” After exchanging pleasantries and introductions to my daughters traveling with me, Karen said: I am very happy to see you here on the plane. But I really feel comforted and blessed to have seen you just Davening. I felt so proud. I know we will have a safe flight. Was I ever happy I prayed right there… What do we know? Here I was bemoaning my “unfortunate” choice for doing a Mitzvah at a particular time and place, while someone else welcomed and appreciated this, exact development at this, exact time. Prior to the performance of any good deed, circumstances are setup for us, by the Almighty, to perform the deed exactly then and there. Despite what may, at times, be perceived as disturbances and difficulties, any time and in any place a Mitzvah is performed, the performance is innately good, as are the surrounding elements. Any time we choose to do something positive, the action is very precious to the Almighty. So precious in fact, that He may have set things in motion for this action to take place years in advance! This powerful point about our good deeds is emphasized in this week's Torah portion of “Matos”, in which the Torah presents an amazing phenomenon about sharing the spoils of a war the Jewish people waged against the evil nation of Midiyan. The Torah relates that the spoils of living beings – humans and animals – were divided thus: Half to the warriors themselves and half to the rest of the nation. The warriors were to then designate 1/500 th of each type of living human and animal for the Kohanim, the priests. The rest of nation was required to designate 1/50 th of each living human and animal to be given to the Levites. An exact account of all amounts is then specified in the Torah: This many humans, that many sheep, donkeys were another amount; 1/50 th equaled this amount, 1/500 th equaled that amount. The Torah, uncharacteristically, goes into incredible detail about this seemingly meaningless division, with a bunch of routine numbers. The information of all the numbers and their divisions is to impress upon us a most amazing and unusual and unique marvel: There were no remainders; all of the amounts the Jewish people were asked to donate from their spoils were based on rounded figures. Let's imagine how many things had to break just right for the numbers to be perfect. First, the Midyanite humans were exactly in the specific amount. Second, the Midyanites had to breed a definitive number of animals. Third, not one of these people or animals could die from the time the Jewish people began the tedious task of counting them. All these circumstances were put into place years in advance so that when the time came for the Jewish people to fulfill the Divine commandment of dividing the spoils, the numbers would be perfectly rounded, thus leaving no room for confusion what to do with one or two extras. The Torah is imparting one of the more potent lessons in life. Doing the correct and good thing is always right. Things are in place, always, by the Almighty Himself, for us to choose to do the right thing. Notwithstanding any disturbance, we must always forge ahead, with confidence and trust in G-d, to perform the right thing in a most complete manner. Doing the right thing is never wrong. Whether we may be in the airport or airplane or anywhere, whether we see it or not, someone, somewhere, somehow – as well as you and me – benefit. It's up to us to “just do it!” Dearest Rabbi Lew, thank you so much for these wonderful articles. I don't have much time to sit down and fully read all of your articles, but the subject of this one [“The Deed Indeed”] in particular interested me; therefore, I really read the whole thing. I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed it very much. It made me laugh and I really got something out of it. I'm so glad that you take time out of your VERY busy day, as I can imagine with all the other wonderful things that you do, to write these amazing articles for all of us that you send them to. I hope you have (had, by the time you read this) a good Shabbat. Thanks again! NF, Atlanta . When I have seen Jews Daven on my flights, I always feel comforted. Even when I am in an airport and I see a “kippah” walk or run by, I always smile. I am willing to bet that more people really respect what you do than you may think. We all have “interesting” appearances which is what makes us all so interesting in the first place! I can't imagine a world of us all looking like clones. DL, Atlanta . JOURNEYING WITH THE FLOW As we were traveling from the state of Iowa to the neighboring state of Missouri , the route of the trip took us along the Mississippi River . We would stop the car periodically to gaze at the scene of the river and all the life surrounding it. Later, when we visited downtown St. Louis , we stood at My cousin, who lives in the Twin Cities, Minnesota , recently told me about his visit to the mighty river's source, and his amazement over how small and fragile it is. My cousin should know, as the river is already very wide and imposing as it travels and splits the Twin Cities. I would like to suggest, however, that even one single step of the process is also a journey, for we are always on a journey. How interesting that when recounting the journeys of the Jewish people from the land of Egypt, through 40 years in the desert until arriving at the border of the Holy Land, the Torah, in this week's portion of “Masei”, refers to all of the travels, including where the nation camped, as “journeys.” The Jewish people spent very little time traveling. They camped in the desert for the vast majority of the forty years there, yet everything falls into the category of “journey.” But the Torah is teaching a valuable lesson: Life's journey, even when we're stopped somewhere. As a nation, the Jewish people seem to always be on a journey. Their first journey began upon leaving the land of Egypt into the desert. When the Torah recaps their first journey in the opening of this week's portion, the Torah says "These are the journeys of the nation who left Egypt ." There was only one journey from Egypt to the next stop, yet the Torah describes this journey in the plural! An explanation is offered that the Jewish people never finished traveling. Their journey "from Egypt " continues at all times, for it's not just life that is a constant journey, Jewish life is also a constant journey, leaving behind any state of " Egypt " which confines and limits goodness. A wise man was once entertaining a friend visiting from a different town. The guest was dismayed at the pitiful lack of material essentials at his host's home: The table doubled as a bed. The chairs were on their last legs. Poverty and destitution were screaming from every corner. Said the guest: This is difficult to bear; don't you have any more furniture? Replied the wise man: And where is your furniture, my friend? The surprised guest answered: My furniture is at home, and it's all beautiful there. Here, however, I am a traveling guest, and I don't bring my furniture with me when I journey. The wise man smiled at his friend and said: I, too, am on a journey through this world. When I get back "home", my "furniture" will be waiting for me just as I left it… There is no limit to how much we can achieve in life's journey. As long as the focus is on the goal, even the stops on the way will become opportunities – not to focus on “furniture,” but on supplying “water” and life everywhere. |