Life, Like History, Repeats Itself

One of the nice aspects of having had a blog for a number of years is the ability to look back and recall what was going on, what happened, and how we felt about everything through various periods. I was curious to read what I'd written in prior years around Yom Kippur, if anything, as I am aware of the near preachy tone that can come across in such posts. At the same time, there can often be much meaning, particularly to myself, knowing what was meant then and especially now looking back, being able to view it from the present.

When I glanced back, I was struck by how apropos is the (ironically titled) post Apropos & Thank You from just before Yom Kippur in 2008. Admittedly, this year was probably a bit more difficult than that one, for a variety of reasons beyond anyone's control or knowledge - and similarly, there was only so much anyone could have done for us even if they were aware of it all. But that does not take away from what was written then, which is just as applicable today:

On behalf of Serach and myself, we'd like to wish everyone a g'mar chasima tova and a wonderful year. We'd like to thank all those who made this past year as good as it was; it had the potential to be a very difficult year for us in many ways, yet every time that was the case something would happen, someone would help us out, in ways that we will never truly be able to express our gratitude for. Often, we hear and see an understandable and important emphasis and focus on the big issues, the large gestures, and the need to focus on one's own self first - and those certainly do usually come first. But those who can and have done the little things, who have taken care of small but important details, and perhaps without even realizing it have tremendously impacted people by their simple care and friendship, thank you. It was without a doubt the little things that have gotten us through these hard times.

Some of you know who you are. Some of you think you know but your humility won't let you admit it to yourselves. There are some who don't even realize what they do, as they take it as a given - or can't fathom how they have helped despite being so far away or having done "so little". And then there are those who think they may have helped in the past but that something has changed. We thank all of you the same from us, and knowing what kind of people you are, many others owe you similar thanks. We hope to be as good to all of you as you have been to us.

As an aside, a person who can take a step back and look at a bigger picture cannot help but see more behind what goes on in day-to-day life, from the positives to the negatives, from the human side to the spiritual side.

May we all be blessed with a year of health, happiness, and hatzlacha.

Amen.

Echoes of a Shofar

Update: R' Gil already posted about this with a nice Palestine Post (JPost's predecessor) from way back when...

(Hat tip: Mom) Via Cleveland Local Jewish News:

Under a British law in Palestine passed in 1930, Jews were forbidden to blow the shofar at the Kotel, pray loudly there, or bring Torah scrolls, so as not to offend the Arab population. Despite this restriction, for the next seventeen years, the shofar was sounded at the Kotel every Yom Kippur. Shofars were smuggled in to the Kotel where brave teenagers defiantly blew them at the conclusion of the fast. Some managed to get away – others were captured and sent to jail for up to six months.

Two weeks ago, these six men returned to the scene of their “crime”. Armed with shofars, they recounted their individual stories and blew shofar again at the Kotel. This is their powerful and inspiring story.

Apropos & Thank You

I saw this one parked outside one of the local Jewish groceries last Thursday night, and thought it apropos for Yom Kippur and the coming year.

While this is unlikely to be the last post before Yom Kippur (and certainly Sukkos) on this blog, it is surely going to be a busy few weeks for us and I doubt I'll have time to properly say anything during that time.

On behalf of Serach and myself, we'd like to wish everyone a g'mar chasima tova and a wonderful year. We'd like to thank all those who made this past year as good as it was; it had the potential to be a very difficult year for us in many ways, yet every time that was the case something would happen, someone would help us out, in ways that we will never truly be able to express our gratitude for. Often, we hear and see an understandable and important emphasis and focus on the big issues, the large gestures, and the need to focus on one's own self first - and those certainly do usually come first. But those who can and have done the little things, who have taken care of small but important details, and perhaps without even realizing it have tremendously impacted people by their simple care and friendship, thank you. It was without a doubt the little things that have gotten us through these hard times.

Some of you know who you are. Some of you think you know but your humility won't let you admit it to yourselves. There are some who don't even realize what they do, as they take it as a given - or can't fathom how they have helped despite being so far away or having done "so little". And then there are those who think they may have helped in the past but that something has changed. We thank all of you the same from us, and knowing what kind of people you are, many others owe you similar thanks. We hope to be as good to all of you as you have been to us.

As an aside, a person who can take a step back and look at a bigger picture cannot help but see more behind what goes on in day-to-day life, from the positives to the negatives, from the human side to the spiritual side.

May we all be blessed with a year of health, happiness, and hatzlacha.

Who Shall Live

If you haven't seen it yet, this video is emotion- and thought-provoking in time for Rosh Hashana; I haven't seen a video circulate so fast and so furiously in a while. I think I've received or seen this video well over a dozen times in the last couple of days, and figured it would be good to post very close to the Yomim Naoraim (Days of Awe - 10 days between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur).

It's called Who Shall Live. (My sister-in-law SIL, who sent it to me first, warns not to watch around kids.)

Any Given יו״כ...

...I don't know about you, but I think Al Pacino would have made one world-class Mashgiach Ruchani:

Original from Any Given Sunday

I don’t know what to say, really. Three weeks till the biggest day of our personal lives all comes down to today. Now either we heal as an Am or we’re gonna crumble, inch by inch, day by day, 'til we’re finished.

We’re in hell right now, ladies and gentlemen, believe me. And, we can stay here -- get the stuffing kicked out of us -- or we can fight our way back into the light. We can climb outta hell, one inch at a time.

Now, I can’t do it for you. It doesn’t work that way. I look around. I see so many young faces, and I think -- I mean – we’ve made every wrong choice a community can make. We, uh, we’ve pissed away all our money, believe it or not. We’re chasing off anyone who’s ever loved us. And lately, I can’t even stand the state of affairs I see out the window.

You know, when you get old in life things get taken from you. I mean that's...part of life. But, you only learn that when you start losing stuff. You find out life’s this game of opportunities. So is Yom Kippur. Because in either one, life or the Yom HaDin, the margin for error is so small -- I mean one-half a step too late, or too early, and you don’t quite make it. One-half second too slow, too fast, you don’t quite grasp it.

The opportunities we need are everywhere around us.
They’re in every break of the game, so to speak - every minute, every second.

On this day, we reach for that opportunity. On this day, we tear ourselves and everyone else around us to pieces during those tefillos. We claw with our fingernails for those opportunities, because we know when we add up all those tefillos that’s gonna make the difference between success and failure! Between livin' and dyin'!

I’ll tell you this: On any yom tefillah, it’s the one who’s willing to admit who’s gonna maximize those opportunities. And I know if I’m gonna have any life anymore, it’s because I’m still willin' to be honest with myself and with God. Because that’s what livin' is! The six Tefillos* in front of your face!!

Now I can’t make you do it. You got to look at the person next to you. Look into their eyes! Now I think you’re gonna see someone who will go there with you. You're gonna see a person who will sacrifice themselves for this community because they know, when it comes down to it, you’re gonna do the same for them!

That’s an Am, ladies and gentleman!

And, either we heal, now, as an Am, or we will die as individuals.

That’s Yom Kippur guys.

That's all it is.

Now, what are you gonna do?

*mincha, maariv, shacharis, mussaf, mincha, neilah

Yom Kippur Roundup

A few good reads, inspiring reads, and thoughts on Yom Kippur and teshuva as we head into it after the jump. All quotes are merely excerpts I personally gained from; I strongly suggest reading the entire posts in context.

SJ is trembling:

How are we supposed to concentrate our thoughts to heaven if our stomachs are rumbling? Rabbi Teller counters: haven't you ever been reading, and been so engrossed in the book that the hours fly by, until you finish, only to realize that your neck is sore, that it is 3:00 am, and that you are super hungry? (I, for one, know that this has happened to me.) It is possible to get so engrossed in a task that everything else gets shut out, even basic physical concerns. If we were able to immerse ourselves entirely in our tefillos, we would not even notice our hunger. Though very few people are actually on that level, even I have experienced it to some degree, if only for moments instead of hours. So on Yom Kippur, when my stomach starts to distract me, I redouble my efforts to focus on what I am saying, on what weighs in the balance and what I am asking for.

R' Shaya Karlinsky at BeyondBT with many thoughts, including:

Pushing too fast, whether ourselves or others, has a serious potential down side. If a person changes in a way that lasts for a certain amount of time, then he drops the changes with regret (which, unfortunately seems to be evidenced in “angry” ex-BT’s) then not only is he unlikely to return at a later stage, but the time he spent doing Mitzvoth is negated.

Patience in our growth, patience with the growth of others, will ensure that the changes that happen will be stable, creating a foundation that can be used for future growth. Decisions about change must be made with a realistic and penetrating assessment of their likely long-term consequences.

Much of Jewish education focuses on educating our children (and grown-ups) towards observance of ritual matters, and adopting proper ideological beliefs. Most efforts are devoted to increasing knowledge and commitment to Shabbath, Kashruth, Family Purity and Prayer; and to believe in the Truth and Divinity of Torah. What seems to be ignored is a fundamental lesson taught to us by our Rabbis, and developed by the Mussar and Chassidic masters: “Derech Eretz Kadmah LaTorah,” proper behavior precedes Torah, and “Im ein derech eretz, ein Torah,” if there is a lack of proper behavior and respect towards other, there can be no Torah.

Greg gives a narrative of what [he feels] the day is about - a good reminder for us all and a pretty good explanation, particularly for those who would like to know more about Yom Kippur.

R' Dovid Gottlieb (Shomrei Emunah in Baltimore) has a very good post on teshuva at Cross-Currents including some interesting insights:

In fact, the Rambam (Laws of Repentance 2:2) lists the following crucial components: azivas ha-chet – the sinner must cease and desist from the prohibited behavior; kabalah le’asid – he must then commit to not repeating this behavior anytime in the future; charatah al ha-avar – he should sincerely regret his sinful action; and finally vidui – he must verbally confess his sin.

It is striking that the Rambam lists kaballah, the pledge to stay the improved course, before requiring charatah, the regret over the misdeed. At first glance this sequence appears anachronistic, as the future is placed before the past. And more than just an issue of timing, logically it would appear that charatah would come before kabbalah.

How are we to understand the Rambam’s order?

I think it’s possible that the Rambam is teaching us a profound lesson in the psychology of spiritual growth.

Deep down, many people don’t believe that there is a meaningful chance for lasting change. Past habits are deemed too hard to break and previous mistakes are considered too numerous to rectify; we feel unworthy of redemption. Even when God is ready to forgive us we are not always willing to forgive ourselves. This may be mistaken but it is a common feeling.

If a person focused initially on the guilt of the past, there would be a real danger that instead of charatah being a catalyst for positive change, he or she could become trapped by negative feelings of despair and hopelessness.

Even though it may be intuitive to focus on the past we are instructed to look towards the future because the Rambam understands that the most profound inspiration for change is the positive image of the new and improved person we will be. We must be able to hope for a better tomorrow before we come to grips with a disappointing yesterday. We need the vision of what lies ahead to give us the strength to face up to what came before. Once the kabbalah has taken place, then – and only then – are we ready for charatah.

Elsewhere, Jack has a nice and comforting video from the IDF called "Army Letters"; and DAG and Sephardi Lady point to communal issues - and more importantly, ideas and solutions - worth keeping in mind at this time of year.

Again, have a g'mar chasima tova, and for those who will not be reading over Sukkos, have a wonderful chag as well. SerandEz will be taking Elianna on her first airplane trips as we head to Cleveland and Los Angeles for 5 and 6 days; we're just hoping it's not going to be cold and snowing in Cleveland. Over Pesach, the weather was 80 and sunny on the first day, snowing 20 hours later, and 8 inches on the ground by daybreak of first day chol hamoed.

I hope to put up the recipes that were asked for sometimes after Shabbos.

The Last Lecture

(Hat tip: Mommy) The Wall Street Journal seems to be getting into Yom Kippur mode:

Schools such as Stanford and the University of Alabama have mounted "Last Lecture Series," in which top professors are asked to think deeply about what matters to them and to give hypothetical final talks. For the audience, the question to be mulled is this: What wisdom would we impart to the world if we knew it was our last chance?

At Carnegie Mellon, however, Dr. Pausch's speech was more than just an academic exercise. The 46-year-old father of three has pancreatic cancer and expects to live for just a few months. His lecture, using images on a giant screen, turned out to be a rollicking and riveting journey through the lessons of his life.

They have a short embedded video along with the article with clips from his speech; it's a little nuts, looking at this seemingly perfectly healthy man and knowing he'll likely die within months. Some of the wisdom he imparted is excellent:

Flashing his rejection letters on the screen, he talked about setbacks in his career, repeating: "Brick walls are there for a reason. They let us prove how badly we want things."

He encouraged us to be patient with others. "Wait long enough, and people will surprise and impress you."

After showing photos of his childhood bedroom, decorated with mathematical notations he'd drawn on the walls, he said: "If your kids want to paint their bedrooms, as a favor to me, let 'em do it."

Read it, watch it. Thinking about what we'd impart, what we'd want to do, should it be our own last lectures, last months is something worth keeping in mind often. Have a wonderful g'mar chasima tova. May we all be inscribed in the Book of Life for good.

A Few Good Posts

Blogger hasn't been letting me read much today; Google thinks I'm spyware. A few good posts as we head into Yom Kippur:

• On a lighter note, G sent me this great post on Deadspin about selling Sandy Koufax's yarmulke (which looks much like CWY's old one) - the cliche Jew comments are hilarious in that they're so completely not funny... His fave, though I actually don't see it:

  But what if God's not a Dodgers fan, and we've picked the wrong team to follow? Every week we're just making God madder and madder

• And on a heavier note...
• Irina wonders if she'll live.
• Pearl thinks about U'Nesaneh Tokef; so does TNSPR. Pearl:

  Perhaps I was most aware of the theme of this post as the kohanim went up on the bimah for "duchenin"; two of those men that were up there, whom I know, have cancer. They have been taking treatments and I believe that one of them has decided to stop his treatments. It shows in his face, in his body and in his wife's eyes as she looks at him.
  
  As those men stood and blessed the congregants, as kohanim have done for centuries, I couldn't help but wonder if these men would be around next year to bless us again.
  
  And moreso I thought that they are blessing us; Hashem should bless them hundredfold with strength and good health.

• R' Ally thinks we should take it all personally.
  

MordyS: Welcome to Elul

Welcome to Elul. The cliché of the mussar Rebbeim that’s been drilled into the heads of anyone who’s ever attended a yeshiva. What’s that one thing we always hear that Elul is all about? Change. What a great thing. So what’s the deal with changing? We’re supposed to come out of a month, then a ten day period, then a grand finale of Yom Kippur completely different people. That’s the idea all of our Rabbis spend so much time shmoozing us out about. We can evangelicalize the situation and think that our Rabbis are all hopped up on crazy conman dreams of glory and money and “Healing this boys SOUL!!!!” and we can walk out of a shmooze thinking the fire and brimstone is a bunch of bull, telling ourselves that, “my rabbi doesn’t know me!” or “who does this guy think he is?” Besides the fact that (I cannot remember which sefer this is from) one itty bitty joke can always shoot down a powerful, moving mussar shmooze. Now, that is if it’s actually fire and brimstone, because I don’t think too many Rabbis in community shuls these days rub too hard on their constituents. Shteibels, definitely not; they’re lucky if they even have a rabbi. Meanwhile, 15 year olds in yeshivas who can’t even control their own hormones, let alone outside pressure, get subjected to biweekly harangues.

I’m not an enemy of change in the least. In general, I prefer routine. But I certainly don’t have anything against people doing some serious soul searching, doing a cheshbon hanefesh, even if only once a year, and actually changing their evil ways.

Elul makes me uncomfortable. Yom Kippur scares the bejeeses out of me. And like I said, I prefer routine, but I’m certainly not afraid of change.

So since I got a keen sense of the obvious, I’ll call it like it is. We’re supposed to change our ways from evil to good. To make it a little bit more mathematical:

Elul+Asseres Yemei Teshuva+Yom Kippur=Change.

Specifically from bad to good, or better known by its more popular title, Teshuva.
Now, notice how I just equated Teshuva with change. Is that not all that Teshuva is? Changing.

The big problem with change though, is that there has to be something to change. A personality trait, a character defect, a business practice, or maybe a different perspective on life. Those all seem like things that may need some changing. Or maybe just a good attitude adjustment. Yeah, I think a lot of Jews out there just need a swift kick somewhere below the gartel to get ‘em contemplating what put them in their current fetal position on the ground weeping like a little girl. What better way to realize you have a major ideological deficiency than by someone making it physically clear to you?

In all seriousness, what is change? I think by now you’ve all realized that I’m not the greatest master of subtly. In fact, I prefer painfully obvious any day over the gentle drawn out prod with a stick approach. And that’s why I’m here telling you what change is.

Bur first I’ll start with what change is not. Change is not taking the Triboro Bridge instead of the Whitestone because of the construction. Change is not going to a Mets game ‘cuz the Yanks are out of town. Change is not going to Wok N Take Out instead of Glot Wok just to see if food tastes different on the other side of town. Even if you do all those things for no reason, it’s still not the change I’m referring to. I’m also not referring to the stuff you find under the couch cushions when you’re gutting your house for Pesach.

So we know what change is not. But then what is change?

How about deciding to let the old woman go in front of you on line for once in your life, is that change? How about deciding to file your taxes honestly this season, is that change? How about putting a little extra in the pushka this morning at shachris? Hmmm, I’m starting to smell a hint of something.

I finished summer school a month ago. The partners at the accounting firm I worked at for the past year told me I could take off for the five weeks of summer school that I was going to be living in Brooklyn, since summer classes were every day from 3:30 till 8. I finish school and inform them that I’m ready to come back to work. They say they’ll call me when they need me. A week and a half later I walk in asking what the deal is. They tell me they don’t need me anymore. And I didn’t fight for my job because, frankly, I was kind of sick of the place anyway and I wasn’t learning as much as I could have been. But anyway, here I am a little while ago without a job for almost seven weeks. Money’s getting thin, my parents are in Alaska for the next two weeks and my car is in the shop getting a week and a half long $1,300 “tune up”. Besides being in a rut and sitting on my tuchus all day watching war coverage, with $40.69 to my name, wondering how I’m gonna pay my car insurance bill, I wasn’t very happy.

I suddenly realized that my life has completely changed in seven weeks. July started with money in the bank, a steady job, a GPA that was ok (but sinking), and a car. But what really changed? Things were all different, but nothing changed. I never got up and consciously decided that I wanted my car not start, to be running out of money, to be suddenly out of a job, and to be wondering whether it’s worth it for me to go back to school next semester. But now here I am, conscious, healthy and wondering. And everything seems to have worked itself out. So maybe nothing did change. But that can’t be since I have some ideas now that I’ve never had before. I finally realized that school is actually more important right now than working. So yes, something definitely did change.

I finally figured out a direction to go in after that shake up, and that direction is of a completely different mindset than I had just two months ago. And that’s change.
It must be. Change must be more than just things being different than the norm. It must be a certain emotional, or mental/psycho earthquake of sorts. It must be a shake-up not just of shaky, but of shattering proportions. It must not just move you to action, echoing a thump as you roll out of bed. It must move to action as the lava that eventually moves an entire city and consumes it as it flows down Main Street. And the speed of action is not as much a factor because all that really matters is that the change will lead to an end result of becoming better, of rising up. However, the change must also move the way a tornado suddenly sweeps in and throws the trailer across the county. It’s got to be drastic (and seems to best be described by metaphors of natural disasters).

I am not concerned with how quickly one makes a life altering change or how many steps they must first make in order to get to wherever they truly hope to be in life. That’s because if you ask one Rabbi, he’ll tell you that you have to work on yourself slowly, step by step. However, if you look at some of the dudes I went to yeshiva with in Israel, they never would be sitting in the Mir right now if they never decided to just take a swan dive off the deep end. What concerns me is that people actually do it, not how fast or how slow they do it.

I want people to change. I want to change. I want to be better and learn more and do more chessed and daven with a minyan three times a day. I want to change plenty of other things about myself that I don’t feel like talking about here. I’m not even close to being as good of a Jew as I want to be, and who knows if I ever will be. But it’s not just about wanting to change. It’s about actually changing. It’s about how I change for the better, that I elevate myself in whatever way I can into a higher being. The point is that I become a better Jew at the end of the day after all is said and done.

And yes, I know, “sur meira v’aseh tov.” Yes, it sucks to talk about all the bad in the world. And not just all the bad in Iraq, Lebanon, Iran, Sudan, Sri Lanka, and everywhere else, but the bad in our community. Yes, there is bad in our tiny little interconnected insular Jewish village. I know, doesn’t it suck to think about? There are bad Jews? The more I think about it, the more I feel like thank God we haven’t resorted to murder just yet (at least not that any of us know about) . We seem to have covered white collar crimes, indecent public officials, drug dealing, and a recent checking of the sex offenders list shows that we thoroughly covered that area as well.

Then what about the stories not everyone hears? In my 22 years on this Earth, should it make sense for me to say that nothing surprises me anymore? Should I listen to stories about fights breaking out in beis medrashes and Sefardi quotas in yeshivos and bais yaakovs, and not bat an eye lash? Should I read in the newspaper about frum girls getting kidnapped and Rabbis getting away with child molestation and not think that it’s weird? Should I hear about tax fraud, money laundering, housing schemes and $100 million Chasiddus empires, and not be wondering how certain people have the guts to call themselves “ultra-orthodox” Jews? Should I be driving through a predominantly Jewish neighborhood and wondering if this is really how my people were meant to go about their daily lives? Is this how God fearing, Torah abiding people act?

And everyone reading this knows that I could go on and on about all the cracked out stuff that goes on in the Orthodox Jewish community. We all have the little deep dark community secret that we think no one else knows about, so I’m sure you can all relate. And yes, all the negativity makes my skin crawl as well. I’d rather smile about all the fluffy seminary girl stories that we can all tell about all the good things and how much chessed we do. But like I said, thank God we haven’t started murdering people yet. I just don’t get how bad we are. This is our community? This is the Jewish world that I grew up in? Am I just a huge pessimist?

Last week I had a discussion with two friends of mine, CD and Duvs, about how annoying it is to live in a large Jewish community. Of course, it’s easier to live like a Jew with having tons of options for minyanim, having easier access to mikvaos, and other necessities that plenty of Jews in the larger communities totally take for granted. But even better, you can also get eight different brands of a myriad of types of kosher products; you can choose your poison/Chinese take-out and compete with your neighbors for coolest chumra of the month club, but is that what it means to live in a large Jewish community? My friend Duvs told CD and I about how in a particular small Jewish community, it was just about impossible to keep Cholov Yisrael. Guys from a certain Yeshiva would love to go there because they’d finally be able to eat Entenmann’s donuts. But this one guy was determined to keep Cholov Yisrael and he had an industrial freezer and he’d drive many hours just to stock up on Cholov Yisrael milk.

Keeping Cholov Yisrael is not the point. Working to be a Jew is the point. It’s almost like the more Jews that congregate in a certain place, the more competitive Judaism becomes. 2 Jews, 3 opinions. Why does that have to be true? Why can’t we work together to change that? Why can’t we all realize that it takes work to be a Jew and just because you can wake up and choose from six different minyanim to go to, it doesn’t by default make you a better Jew? Why can’t we realize that belonging to a Jewish establishment does not mean we can automatically have a place to hide when the poop hits the fan? Rabbis and teachers, and principals, and parents, and everyone who has a say in the community has to realize what it means to be accountable for your actions. They have to realize that they hold the future of our people in their hands and that they mold and form these fragile souls into the next leaders of our community we supposedly hold so dear.

I almost feel like I’m on my knees here pleading to the world. Maybe a little dramatic, ok, I’m sorry. But what’s left to do? I can change myself, of course, and I’m trying to do my part. There are the little things I know I can change that I have been working on. But then I look out at the microcosm of the Jewish world that is the community that I live in, and I wonder who out there is working? Who out there is pushing for change? Who out there sees the 24 year old girls with three kids getting divorced and asks what can we do to change this situation? Who out there is seeing all the imperfections of the Am Kadosh and wondering when something is going to change? I’m not begging for a Jewish utopia. I’m just asking for people to get up off their tuchuses and try to change, personally and as a whole. Actually, no, that’s not what I’m asking for. I am begging for perfection. I am begging Jews to make change an agenda. I am begging Jews to change for the better in order to reach the ultimate goal of Moshiach. I am not a pessimist. If I was, I wouldn’t have wasted my time typing this up.