By Rabbi Micah Segelman

Rav Dessler made a number of important contributions to Jewish thought. One of the ideas that he helped to popularize and develop is that there are two powerful and opposing forces which motivate human action – the impetus to give and the desire to take. He writes that, “These two forces – giving and taking – are at the root of all character traits and all actions (1).” Taking can lead to great evils while giving is an essential trait of Hashem which we are enjoined to emulate.

The act of taking can appear in many different forms – accumulating possessions or enhancing social status are obvious examples. But even many seemingly generous acts are motivated by self interest. The common thread is that the motivation is to address a personal need. There is a void which we are trying to fill.

Giving is the opposite. For a person to give he must first feel complete. He (or she) feels no unmet needs – and from this position of strength reaches beyond himself to address the needs of others. In Rav Dessler’s words he is “like a river whose waters increase and overflow the river’s borders (2).” The distinction between giver and taker isn’t necessarily based on any objective difference in what they have – only in how they relate to what they have.

I’d like to focus on what I believe is an extremely important application of this idea. The need to feel good about oneself is almost as basic as eating and drinking. When a person’s need for self esteem is unmet he looks outside of himself for validation, usually in one of two ways. One way is to seek the approval and esteem of others. And the second is to try to find validation through achievement – I can feel good about myself if I’ve accomplished enough. When a person seeks outside validation he is taking instead of giving.

When a person looks to other people for validation he isn’t able to give to them because he’s too busy trying to take from them. Furthermore, a person who is dependent on other people’s approval is under a lot of pressure to conform to their expectations and is focused on the need to impress them rather than on doing what is most constructive in any given situation.

The tendency to allow our self esteem to depend on our accomplishments is common in our society where the prevailing mentality equates our worth with our achievements. This is counterproductive and will result in accomplishing less, since it’s very difficult to handle setbacks if they bruise our fragile ego. Our achievements will be limited and our judgment will be distorted by this conflict of interest. And as long as a person seeks to feel worth through his accomplishments, he is focused on meeting his own needs and is unable to selflessly give of himself for the sake of a larger purpose.

So how do we move past these unhealthy patterns? Leading psychologists advocate not allowing our self acceptance to depend on our accomplishments. Albert Ellis writes, “For when you do badly, or think you do badly, or think that others see you as doing badly, you denigrate your whole self and feel worthless . . . your conditional self acceptance often leads to self damning . . Unconditional self acceptance works much better than conditional self acceptance. It consists of your decision to accept yourself independent of your performances – whether or not you do well and whether or not you earn approval by others (3).” David Burns writes in a similar vein, “If you insist your worth is determined by your achievement, you are creating a self esteem equation: worth = achievement. What is the basis for making this equation? . . . You can’t prove the equation because it is just a stipulation, a value system (4).”

What I have found perplexing is how to reconcile these powerful and useful ideas with a Torah perspective. The Torah certainly doesn’t suggest that we look to the approval of others to feel worthwhile. But doesn’t our religion stress the importance of achievement? Don’t those who achieve more, or at least achieve a greater share of what they are capable of, have greater worth than those who don’t? Furthermore, how do we reconcile our insistence on doing what is correct and condemning sin with a perspective of unconditionally accepting ourselves when we may feel significant regret for things we have done? Doesn’t sin diminish our worth?

I believe there are powerful Torah ideas which can help address these questions. Ultimately the Torah provides a strong and resilient basis for self esteem while simultaneously giving great meaning to our achievements and life struggle to choose right over wrong.

Basic to Torah thought is that the G-d given mission of each individual person and the mission of mankind as a whole are of profound importance. The Torah’s basis for self esteem thus comes from the fact that we are worthy of the attention and interest of Hashem Himself and that we can give meaning to our lives and fulfill our mission by making good choices (5).

We must realize that our mission in life is to do our own individual best. Who among us thinks that their life will have the impact of Rebbe Akiva? Of Rashi? Of the Chofetz Chaim? Others are greater than us. But so what? My own individual mission has great meaning. Comparison to another person of greater talents is irrelevant. This idea is expressed in many places including in Rabbeinu Yonah’s explanation of the Mishna which tells us that “The work is not upon you to complete it (6).” He says that even if we are of modest intellect our Torah study is of great significance. And the Mishna in Sanhedrin (37a) teaches that the creation of the world was worthwhile even for a single person. This doesn’t only apply to the greatest among us – it applies to each of us. So our self esteem shouldn’t suffer even if we feel that we haven’t achieved everything we wanted to.

But what if we have squandered opportunities to achieve by making poor choices? In reference to the Mishna in Sanhedrin (37a) cited above, Rav Nosson Tzvi Finkel explains that the creation of the entire world is justified in order to provide an opportunity for a single person with free will to choose to fulfill Hashem’s commandments. Rav Finkel stresses that this applies even to a wicked person. Even the rasha can choose to change direction in life and thus his life decisions have great significance to Hashem (7).

My life continues to have great significance in spite of mistakes that I’ve made. Is it unfortunate that I may not have realized 100% of my potential and that perhaps others have done a better job actualizing themselves? Yes, of course. But does sin diminish our worth? If we go through our entire lives without utilizing life’s opportunities for positive and meaningful activity then our life will have had little value. But throughout the course of life our lives have deep meaning and worth because of the choices we can still make. Rabbeinu Yonah tells us that we should never be discouraged by the mistakes we have made. We shouldn’t be burdened by the weight of our sins. Becoming despondent is unhelpful and we should instead focus on the fact that Hashem desires that we improve ourselves (8).

The Torah approach to self esteem differs, not surprisingly, from the secular approach. But the common ground is that we must not be discouraged when our achievements fail to measure up to those of others or when we realize our failure to have fully achieved all that we can. Common to both approaches is also that dependence upon the approval of others is unhelpful.

As long as we look to our achievements or to outside approval for validation our interactions with the outside world will be circumscribed by our restrictive perspective. When we no longer have this dependence we’ll be able to look beyond ourselves. If we can focus on achieving greatness with our ego removed from the equation then our actions won’t be tinged with self interest. We will become selfless and will be emulating Hashem who is the quintessential giver. Our actions will emanate from loftier motives and we will achieve much more profound success.

Sources
(1)Rav Dessler, Michtav M’Eliyahu,Vol 1: Kuntras HaChessed, chapter 1
(2)Rav Dessler, Michtav M’Eliyahu,Vol 1: Kuntras HaChessed, chapter 8
(3)Ellis, Albert, Feeling Better, Getting Better, Staying Better (Atascadero, CA 2001) page 24. See also Burns, Dr David, Feeling Good (New York 1999) chapters 11 and 13, and Twerski, Rabbi Dr Abraham, Ten Steps To Being Your Best (Brooklyn, NY 2004), chapters 2 and 3
(4)Burns pages 331-332
(5)See the writings of Rabbi Dr Twerski and Dr David J Lieberman
(6)Rabbeinu Yonah, Avos 2:16
(7) Rav Nosson Tzvi Finkel (The Alter of Slobodka), Ohr Hatzafun, Sefer Toldos Adam: Part B
(8)Rabbeinu Yonah, Yesod Hateshuva, and Rabbeinu Yonah, Avos 2:1

All rights reserved. Permission is granted to reproduce this essay only in its entirety including this statement.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• Chelsea, Marc and Gitel – Studies in Dark and Light
• How to talk to Our Children about Personal Safety
• Rejected By The Community
• Why Does it Matter How We Dress?
• What mourning taught me

Related items

• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness
• Get Your Post Yom Tov Off to a Good Start

Note: A few of the thoughts and ideas that make up this post have been sitting in my Blogger Dashboard since 08/09/06, after I sent an email to someone regarding banned seforim and authors.

I heard on CBS radio that J.D. Salinger had died. As a former fan of fiction, avid reader of THE NEW YORKER, and someone who thought, once upon a time, of going into writing, I had to pause and give some thought to Mr. Salinger and, of course, The Catcher in the Rye. The primary thing that comes to mind whenever I think about The Catcher in the Rye is the fact that, sometimes, it takes just one written work to make an impact. Culturally, this book was one of the first written works to speak to and about teenage life in post World War II America. As often noted, while the book was intended for adults, many young adults felt that it spoke to them and reflected their feelings of alienation. It was published in 1951 and banned very quickly due to language, adult situations, promotion of smoking and alcohol drinking, etc. The book continues to be banned.

Even though I attended what was know as a “top” public school in Kansas, this book was never required reading. In fact, it wasn’t until I was 22 (summer of 1992) that I first read it. Holden Caulfield, the main character, was a mouthy teen who had been expelled from four schools and was rather discontent with society, adults, and especially people who were “phony”. Holden saw the hypocrisy within his society and in many of the people he encountered. In many ways, not so different from some individuals that would be labeled as “at-risk” or “in-risk”.

One of my favorite quotes (of all time) can be found in chapter two. Holden says, “People never notice anything”. I have always thought this to mean that Holden felt that people didn’t understand him and that they were not even willing to attempt to understand him. It is that lack of observance (not the Torah u’Mitzvos kind), that feeling that we are not important and what we say doesn’t matter that can often lead to a lack of observance (yes, the Torah u’Mitzvos kind). Most people want to be recognized and valued. When parents, teachers, family members or the community give the impression that someone isn’t important or “worth the time” it can have a devastating effect on a person. Of course, when a teen or adult gets to the point that they even contemplate the idea that Hashem forgets about them, then we get into a situation that might bring about that lack of observance.

“People never notice anything,” is a mindset that seems to go against many Jewish values. Part of the reason I like the quote is because I see how it resonates with many people. That’s I attempt to notice things. I try the be first to wish others a “Good Shabbos Kodesh” or give a “Yashar Koach”. I attempt to take an interest in what is going on in my life of those around me. Lately I have become keenly aware of when people have a birthday coming up (mostly thanks to Facebook). To simply ask someone how they are doing, but not push beyond the answer they give is really going only half the distance.

I know this personally, because friends will ask me how I’m doing, and my first reaction is to say, “everything is fine”. Mostly I do this because R Yisrael Lipkin (Salanter) held that “one’s face is a Reshus HaRabim”, a public area (I believe the story goes that he saw someone looking obviously very serious during Elul and commented to this person, that showing distress might bring others down, as well). I’m slowly realizing that if a good friend asks how I’m doing, the they do deserve a better answer than, “fine”. This is sort of like R Dessler’s idea that even though we want to be givers and not takers, sometimes you can be a taker, like when someone really wants to give you a gift, and by taking you are giving to that over person.

“People never notice anything,” just isn’t true. It’s easy to think that, in the big picture, our actions don’t really make a difference. I fall into this mentality quite often as of late. Usually, it’s really before I’m about to do something nice for someone or prior to actually making a difference. If a novel, movie, song, or other aspect of what’s called “pop culture” speaks to our youth, I think, for myself, that it is important to find out why. If you meet a teenager and they are into an author or a musical artist then there’s something (even if it’s completely off base) that “speaks” to that person. This isn’t meant as an academic critique of Mr. Salinger’s book, but I’ve often wondered to myself, “What if Holden had felt that an adult understood him?” Had that been the case, we would have had a very different story.

Originally posted on Neil’s blog here.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• Putting Hubby First
• Modest is as Modest Does
• In Scandals, a Wake-Up Call for Orthodoxy
• Sometimes I Hate Being a Baalas Teshuva
• The Special Challenges of the Baal Teshuvah Marriage

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness
• Get Your Post Yom Tov Off to a Good Start

My Rav says that often people learn more from their friends than their Rabbeim. The Rabbi will suggest a course of action from the podium (more Torah, better Tefillah, more Chesed) and we can easily dismiss it as, “that’s easy for the Rabbi to say, after all he’s the Rabbi – but us little guys here have our limitations”. But when we see our friends performing these actions, we ask ourselves “if he can do it, why can’t I”? But it’s important to find our own balance.

Our recent to Eretz Yisroel (EY) trip gave rise to such a learning experience. On previous trips, if someone asked me to take something for them I did so reluctantly because I didn’t want to be hassled on my infrequent trips. Last summer a friend and his family were making the trip and since he knew my daughter was going to seminary, he offered to take a full suitcase for us. He said that with so many people wanting to send stuff, he considered it “almost an aveirah (sin)” to not take the maximum weight. We were greatly appreciative and when I considered the distance between my attitude and his, I realized this was something I needed to work on.

So on this current trip we called many people to let them know we were going and if they needed anything to be taken. Many people accepted our offer and it became a little overwhelming in terms of numbers and weight. We couldn’t take everything so we realized that in the future we should accept requests with simcha, but perhaps refrain from calling so many people.

As a postscript, the trip to EY went amazingly smooth in every respect even with the security check – which was cleared when my wife identified the mysterious object as frozen Chinese food.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• A Good Book on The Good Book
• Question of the Week: Is Different Always Better?
• What I Would Tell Every New BT
• Why Does it Matter How We Dress?
• The Special Challenges of the Baal Teshuvah Marriage

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness
• Get Your Post Yom Tov Off to a Good Start

Reading this great advice from Friedman’s Get Deeper Into Torah Without Going Off The Deep End raises the question that perhaps at some point we no longer have our sight on a goal and we’re basically content with where we are holding despite the fact that we have much room to grow in our Torah and mitzvot observance.

There is the intellectual and emotional commitment to a life of Torah. There is also the practical realignment of a thousand details in your daily life. Your commitment may happen in months or even in an hour. The nitty-gritty rearrangements of how you live should be grown into gradually over several years. It is enough to know you are heading towards total observance. Don’t lose sight of your goal, but pace yourself as you travel towards it. This pacing varies from person to person. If mitzvot are becoming a guilty burden, you have gone forward too fast. If you are depressed, cranky, or anxious about your religious life, or just unbelievably unenthusiastic, you have probably taken on too much too quickly.

A possible suggestion:

Women: just growing into kashrus, growing into Shabbos observance, continuing to learn, dressing more or less modestly, and finding your way around the prayers may be more than enough the first two years.

Men: Just growing into kashrus, growing into Shabbos observance, putting on tefillin, praying three times a day, and daily learning may be more than enough for the first two years. It’s not necessary to pressure yourself now to say all the prayers in the
prayerbook, to dress and speak like a tenth-generation Ben or Bat Torah, to learn every Rashi in Tanach, to become the school expert in checking bugs in vegetables, to study until midnight, to be especially stringent about which kosher labels you accept, to say psalms every day, etc. etc. It’s true that you should eventually create as rich a religious life for yourself as you can, but DON’T take it on all in one year.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• The Roots of Chabad Outreach
• Why Do Observant Jews Generally Vote Republican?
• The Difficulties of Reconciling Feminism with Orthodoxy
• How to Stop an Intermarriage
• Why Does it Matter How We Dress?

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness
• Get Your Post Yom Tov Off to a Good Start

Rebbetzin Heller gave a shiur last night in Kew Gardens Hills on Breaking out of Our Complacency.

Here is post from her website on happiness:

There are two kinds of simchah. One is the vivid, transient, engaging joy that the animal soul is addicted to. It propels us to almost constant movement towards whatever the next moment offers (note, not this moment; its enemy is the present and its friend is the future).

One of my friends was telling me about what people sometimes refer to as “their former lives”, meaning the way they were before real growth was even a possibility. “I was always looking for something new, better, improved and most of all different than what I already had.

There was something so dreadfully frightening about the present moment that just thinking about life never being something “more” was more than I could handle. I tried almost everything that seemed to hold promise.

When I finally found something real, a path that can actually be followed, a lifestyle that works, my friends response threw more for a loop. You know what they said? They asked what my next step would be. It was just inconceivable to them that I don’t have a next step, that I finally found a way of living in which the present is where I want to be. They just don’t know what that kind of happiness is. They aren’t stupid or boorish or shallow. They just grew up knowing only one way to joy.

The other kind of happiness is the kind that is there within you all of the time. It just has to be uncovered. The past holidays brought us into contact with this side of ourselves. We use every moment to let Hashem rule. This can take place in your home, when you let go of ego issues, or at work when you move beyond status or gain.

You can take Yom Kippur with you when you reconnect to the part of you that you knew when you asked forgiveness for doing things that your realized (at least at the moment) aren’t your essential self.

Have a great after-the-holidays life

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• The Difficulties of Reconciling Feminism with Orthodoxy
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Modest is as Modest Does
• Sometimes I Hate Being a Baalas Teshuva
• Catching Bagels

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Get Your Post Yom Tov Off to a Good Start

To help get your post Yom Tov season off to a good start here are some simple questions to ask yourself each day.

Questions to ask yourself at the beginning of each day:

1) What are your goals for today?
2) What are your plans for preventing wasted time?
3) What acts of kindness can you do today?

Questions to ask yourself at the end of each day:

1) Did you accomplish some of your goals?
2) Did you use your time mostly productively?
3) What acts of kindness did you do?

Inspired by Gateway to Self-Knowledge By Rabbi Zelig Pliskin

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• Modest is as Modest Does
• How to Learn Hebrew: A Guide for Ba’al Teshuvahs who Can’t get to Yeshivah
• Looking Good
• The Challenges of Raising a Daughter in Public School
• Appreciating the Torah’s Separation of the Sexes

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness

By CJ Srullowitz

I recently had the distinct American pleasure of attending a minor league baseball game. Though New York City boasts two major league teams, the greater New York metropolitan area has several minor league ball clubs, teams filled with kids still in their teens, dreaming of one day playing in “The Show.” Often watching these developing players is more exciting than watching their more able, higher-paid counterparts. Not to mention, beer that night cost a dollar.

In the third inning, I turned to one of my friends and marveled at the determination of everyone involved with this game: not only the players, but the coaches, umpires, even the announcers—were all chasing the same, highly unreasonable dream: that someday they would make it to the major leagues.

My friend wasn’t so sure. He postulated that perhaps they were simply there to have fun. So we put the question to one of the trainers, whom we met during a seventh-inning stretch tour of the locker room. “How many of these players still believe they will make it to the majors and how many are just playing for the fun of it?” my friend asked asked.

“All of them,” he replied.

“All of them play for fun?” my friend repeated.

“No. All of them think they can get to the big leagues,” he said. “To a man.”

This genuinely surprised my friend, but not me. To date, fewer than 17,000 people have played in the bigs. That’s 17,000 players in the history of the American and National Leagues, going back well over a century. To put this in perspective, I heard a Yankees announcer say once, if you took every Major Leaguer, alive or dead, and put him in Yankee Stadium, the place would still be two-thirds empty.

Yet, despite those astounding odds, so many continue to push forward, holding on to the belief that somehow they will be among the chosen few. For their efforts, they are paid as little as $750 a month; they earn in one full season what Alex Rodriguez earns in the time it takes him to tie one shoe.

A few miles down the road from the legendary Lakewood yeshiva, resides a single-A ballclub, the lowest rung on the minor league ladder. The Lakewood Blue Claws are one of 246 minor league teams comprising in the neighborhood of five thousand players. Every one of these players was drafted by a major league team and signed to a professional baseball contract. These kids were stars of their college, high school and little league teams. They know how to play ball.

But there are still too many of them. The fact remains that only a few of these minor league players will ever get called up to the big club—even for a day. And of those that eventually do get called up, few will become regulars. And of those who become regulars, few will play for more than a handful of seasons. And of those who do play for several seasons, few will become All-Stars.

Yet,” to a man,” every player, since he was a young boy, aspires to be that one All-Star. Every one holds on to that dream.

What should we say about such dreamers? Should we mock them? Should we sit in the stands and cheer them on, all the while laughing at them in the backs of our heads? How should we respond to this ridiculous scene of an entire ballgame, whose foundation rests on cloud upon cloud of false hope?

To Torah Jews, their behavior should be inspirational. For their dream is a mechayev. Our Sages teach that Rebbi was mechayev—he obligated—the rich, because he was one of the richest men of his generation, and still, despite all of his financial obligations and business commitments, he found the time to become a great Torah scholar.

Likewise, Hillel was mechayev the poor. Despite his impoverishment and constant need to earn a living wage, he still managed to spend his days occupied in Torah.

Minor league ball players are mechayev all of us. If they can live in this “field of dreams” so can we. If they can hold upend their lives in the single-minded pursuit of an unlikely result, we can certainly adjust our lives to pursue a result that is guaranteed.

This guarantee is what differentiates us from them. In the words of the Sages,
““Anu ameilim veheim ameilim—we toil and they toil.” We all work hard at what we do. But unlike baseball players, we are guaranteed results. Just for trying. Torah study does not require us to become great scholars. We succeed with every word we learn. Torah study is not a means to an end but an end in itself.

Torah study is not for the select few (even if only a select few will excel at it). Too often, we push off learning as the realm of the rabbis. Too often we push off studying until we are prepared to sit for an hour or longer. Too often we push off studying on a basic level because we are too tired, too busy, too unmotivated to study in-depth.

Too many of us remain faithful to a practical approach. Our reach does not even approach our grasp. When it comes to Judaism, we become very modest about our abilities. This is tragic because it leaves so much on the table. We ought to take a page from the book of these dreamers, they of the impractical and the unlikely. We ought to imagine that we can become great talmidei chachamim, that we can become great tzadikim, that we can learn more than we currently learn and do more than we currently do. In doing so, unlike the ballplayers, we all become All-Stars.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• Modest is as Modest Does
• The Parental Shidduch Crisis
• Who’s Cracked the Code on Frum Finances?
• Upper West Side Story: My True Jewish Story
• What My Rabbi Told Me About Different Levels of Observance

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness

In January my wife invited the family for Shabbat in celebration of my 50th birthday. Except for my dad (who we’re working on), everyone lives here in Israel. (We managed to grab a quick picture after Shabbat). It was truly very special to be surrounded by all these loved ones for this momentous birthday.

As a special treat, my daughter emailed a few of my friends and asked them to write a little something for the occasion. We had a lot of fun over the course of Shabbat as she read the responses and I had to guess who wrote them. One of the responses was from the Rav of my Shul back in Edison, NJ. In part he wrote:

Michael – you have done amazingly well with the first 50 years of your life. You are constantly redefining yourself and becoming a new and improved version. You are a living model of Hachodesh Hazeh Lochem. I think if someone would have met you once a decade for the past 50 years, each encounter would be a surprise because you continuously have changed.

As a person involved in software design, the idea of creating new and improved versions struck a chord with me. Isn’t that what we’re really all about? The Teshuva process, and of course this isn’t just limited to BT’s, involves an effort to constantly create and release new “versions” of ourselves. Some versions are just “patches” while others are major revisions.

Selecting 35 years as the amount of time I’ve been a BT was an interesting exercise. How do you define version 1.0 of a person’s development? Even though I attended a Yeshiva day school through 8th grade it wouldn’t be accurate for me to consider the things I did while I was there as a part of the process since these were things I did just because I was told to. For example, though I wore a Kippa and Tzitzit to school, I’d throw them off the minute I got home.

Even so, much of that early “programming” must have had an impact, as within just a few months after entering 9th grade in public high school I experienced, what I consider to be, my BT starting point. Just around my 15th birthday I flew down to Florida to visit my grandmother in Boca Raton. On the way down I ate the regular airline meal, but on the way back I ordered a Kosher meal. The process had begun.

Over the next year and a half I attended no less than 30 NCSY Shabbatons. During that time, among other things, I began walking 4 miles to Shul on Shabbat. In the beginning I’d actually return from that 8 mile round trip trek and hop in the car with my folks to go to a mall or the beach. But by the end of that period I was pretty much Shomer Shabbat. There wasn’t yet a lot depth to my Frumkeit as, well let’s face it; I was involved in NCSY mostly for the girls. (Something which turned out to be a good thing as I met the girl who was to become my wife during those years.)

My first philosophical epiphany came in my senior year of high school during the course of an anatomy elective. No, it had nothing to do with the fact that the cheerleading captain was my lab partner. It did have to do with the fact that we spent nearly a year dissecting a cat. After becoming so intimately aware of the intricacies of this magnificent creature, it became impossible for me to believe that this extremely complex creation wasn’t “designed”. I now had the belief to go along with my actions.

Yet, still I cruised through college and the early part of my marriage with a very basic level of observance. The combination of the birth of my first child and the death of my mom soon after forced me to confront a couple of key issues. How was I going to transmit the beauty of Torah observance in a “do as I say not as I do” mode? And, if I truly believed that, as part of this religious system I now adhered to, my mom was in an afterlife. shouldn’t I be more consistent and careful in how I approached everything? If this religion thing was for “real” then I had to treat it as such. So I embarked on an effort study and apply as much Halacha as I could.

This led me on a path to the “right”; in the shuls I attended, the schools we sent our kids to, and even my appearance. As, it seemed to me then, that’s where all the serious people were. Eventually, though, I ran into some obstacles. Not the least of which was that I consider myself a Zionist and even in the most laid back of right-wing Shuls this is not always an easy fit. Zionism has always been a core part of my belief system, even since before I was Frum. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my dad’s middle name is Herzl. Whatever the case, I was finding it difficult to be in a place were people were, at best, neutral to, what I saw as, the numerous miracles evident in the founding of the modern state of Israel. Like in my high school anatomy class, it had become just as impossible for me not to see the “design” in the founding of the Jewish state as for me not to see the design of that cat. I endeavored to tread the line between being to the right and being a religious Zionist. Though this is not easy to do in America, I managed with this tension until we were finally able to make Aliyah.

We arrived in Israel nearly five years ago. Here in our community and Shul in Beit Shemesh I found my ideological home. Our Rav is a major Talmud Chachom, our congregants are very serious about their Yiddishkeit and we are all proud religious Zionists.

Living in Israel, however, has brought a whole new set of realizations and challenges. For instance, there are many very Frum and learned people who don’t look the part, at least as we defined it in America. Conversely, there are many who have the “look”, but who are sorely lacking in many areas. There are others who aren’t Frum as we traditionally define it, but who are nevertheless very religious. And there are still others who are neither, yet through their contributions to the nation and its security have earned great merit.

Partly as a result of this exposure, I’ve experienced a shift in emphasis from the personal to the communal. I find that here in Israel, much more so than in the U.S., our individual religious choices impact on the broader community and even the nation as a whole in ways that are complex and far-reaching. This realization is leading me to reweigh my priorities. Even the last 3 years I’ve spent learning in Yeshiva part-time has caused some unexpected shifts in the way I view my role in the Torah world. It’s a work in progress.

So, as my Rav predicted, I’m in the process of changing again. My goal is always to become an “improved” version. With the help of G-d, wonderful Rabbis, friends and family (my beta testers) I will continue to endeavor to do so. I hope to report back in a few years and let you know how version 6.0 is doing.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• Lakewood vs. Lakewood
• The BT “Problem” That Won’t Go Away
• Modest is as Modest Does
• The Book of the People – The ArtScroll Siddur at 25
• Dealing With a Tearless Tisha B’Av

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness

The past several months I have been taking some intensive classes for my job. I’m working on Black Belt level certification for Lean Six Sigma (LSS). It’s not some new form of Karate, it’s a process improvement methodology. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lean_six_sigma)

One of the principles involved in LSS is that you can’t tell if your process is improving if you don’t have a way to measure it. (The cover of our text book states “If you can’t measure it, you can’t manage it!”) In fact, that’s one of my LSS projects for my job. My office will be undergoing major changes in the next few years, and we know we’ll be losing people. I’ve developed a way to capture a measurement of skill levels in the workforce currently, and we’ll be making measurements periodically to see if we are losing skills, or if we have enough skills in reserve so when we lose people, we’ll still be able to continue our function.

So what does all this have to do with BeyondBT? In my classes we’ve discussed different metrics to measure for different situations. So I’ve been wondering… are there metrics I can use to measure my growth in increased levels of observance? I can think of various elements, such as now keeping completely kosher, being Shomer Shabbos, etc. But for the most parts they are either/or. I’m doing it or I’m not doing it. (although I did build my way up to them in some cases) Maybe learning? Learning X amount of material one year, Y amount the next year.

Ultimately though, I couldn’t come up with a satisfactory metric to measure this. At least not so far. The closest I’ve been able to come is the feeling in my heart… feeling closer to Hashem, closer to Judaism, closer to feeling “right.” However, none of those are
measurable by any yardstick I’m familiar with. Maybe some things just aren’t meant to be measured; as measurements result in cold, hard numbers, rather than more subjective results. Still, if you have any thoughts on metrics, I’d like to hear them.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• What My Rabbi Told Me About Different Levels of Observance
• Lakewood vs. Lakewood
• A Better Jew, A Better You
• Upper West Side Story: My True Jewish Story
• Fear of Being a Phony

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness

It’s a great mitzvah to help any Jew come closer to Hashem. Perhaps we need to focus a little on helping ourselves come closer. If we could consciously and mindfully make a collective effort to become better Jews, perhaps we can have a sizable impact on ourselves and the world around us.

If we take simple, achievable steps that do not require any additional time commitments, we can collectively improve our service and become the better Jews we all want to be.

Here are four simple, practical steps we propose to work on once a week:

1) Think about Hashem – internalize the fact that He created the world with the purpose of us getting closer to Him and committing yourself to that purpose.

2) Improve an Interpersonal Communication – when approaching a friend, relative or stranger, think about how you can learn from that person or how you can do something for, that person. The “doing” can consist of honestly asking how things are going, giving a compliment or offering some piece of helpful information or advice.

3) Do a Mitzvah With Kavanna – When doing a mitzvah (kiddush, Shabbos meal, tefillin, bentching, …), think about the fact that Hashem commanded this mitzvah and that you are fulfilling His command with the action you are performing.

4) Stand Before Hashem When Davening – When starting Shomoneh Esrai, focus on the fact that you are standing before Hashem and praying to Him.

Let’s do this as a group. Anybody can join.

Email us at beyondbt@gmail.com to join the group and receive a twice weekly reminder. We’ll take a look at how we’re doing in a few weeks.

If you like the idea and want to help, please link to this post. Thanks.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• Do We Have the Courage to Accept Some of the Blame?
• Lakewood vs. Lakewood
• Applying Metrics to Increased Observance
• Upper West Side Story: My True Jewish Story
• Fear of Being a Phony

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness

The other day my mom and I were talking about what personal failures we were most afraid of committing. I told her the thing that worried me the most was that I would turn out to be a fake. That at the end of my life, many people would think I was an observant Jew, a good person, a good wife and mother, intelligent, etc, etc. But that I would know that I was none of those things. Of course my mom being my mom was incredulous that I could think I was anything less than fantastic.

I think this fear of being a phony might be common among BTs. I imagine that people who are frum from birth perform mitzvot as if they were born knowing how. But for me, I always feel I should tell people, “I’m not learning to become an observant Jew, I just pretend to be one on the internet.” Every time I say a bracha or pick out kosher food at the market I feel as if I will soon find out that I have been doing some aspect of these mitzvot incorrectly. In part this is because of my own insecurity in my “status” (somewhere between secular and observant) and incomplete knowledge, and in part because I am disappointed that I have not progressed as far in my observance as I had hoped.

Of course, my mom being my mom, had a wonderful bit of wisdom to share with me. She said, “You’re only fake if your intentions are insincere. If someone assumes you are Orthodox because, for example, you don’t wear pants and you dress modestly, then that’s not your fault so long as you dress modestly for sincere reasons. The fact that you can’t yet completely kosher your kitchen doesn’t mean that you’ve misled that person, it means that you haven’t progressed to that step yet.”

Then I came across this quote from Rabbi Shalom Arush that confirmed that my mom was exactly right:

We must all know one thing: Every setback in life – even a setback that results from our own mistake – comes from above!

Therefore, one should never torture oneself. There’s no room to blame oneself or anybody else for troubles in life, and certainly not to fall into despair and depression. The important thing is desire; falling means nothing, as long as a person maintains a desire to do better. Never abandon your desires, for Hashem looks first and foremost at our desires. The best way to counter a fall or failure is to declare a new beginning and get back up on our feet as fast as possible. We desire to do better! The fall means nothing if we get back on our feet swiftly and with new resolve.

I’m not a fake Orthodox Jew. I am someone who is working towards a goal that I have not yet fully achieved. I haven’t completed all the steps I need to complete, in part because of poor decisions I have made, and in part because of things outside of my control. But I can declare a new beginning because I desire to do better.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• What My Rabbi Told Me About Different Levels of Observance
• Looking Good
• What Does “Observant” Really Mean?
• Modest is as Modest Does
• Lakewood vs. Lakewood

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness

After Modeh Ani: Realize that I need to be concerned only with this day before me and not what I will do tomorrow.

After kissing the mezuza when leaving home: Remember that it is Hashem who decides what happens to me during the day.

Before Davening: Remember that I will be talking directly to the Ribbono shel Olam

While Davening: Remember that the second I open my mouth and daven that Hashem is right there listening to me.

Before and During Learning: Remember that I am not just studying any old book, rather it is a sefer that is precious and holy.

After Learning: Say a quick personal prayer that I am able to put my learning into practice.

Before Eating: Take time to slow down and realize I am thanking Hashem for the food and that without Him I would not even have it to begin with.

After First Bite/First Sip: Say a quick personal prayer that I use the energy from the food or drink for mitzvos and not aveiros.

Before saying Birkas Hamazon: Remember that bentching after I eat ensures that the channel of blessing that enables me to support my family is unobstructed.

Before Seeing Another Person: Ensure my eyes smile at them and that I greet them with a kind word.

After Work: Ensure I leave a bad mood outside before I enter the threshold to my house. Imagine that someone is going to pay me my entire yearly salary if I can refrain from expressing my anger for just that evening alone.

Originally posted here.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• Who’s Cracked the Code on Frum Finances?
• A Better Jew, A Better You
• I Think I Owe a Big Thank You to Susie Essman
• Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
• Mazal Tov to Rabbi Label and Mrs Chaya Lam on the Wedding of Their Son

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness

Salty. Bitter. Sweet. Sour.

These are the tastes traditionally understood to describe the flavor receptors of the tongue and, consequently, the available range of culinary experience. However, according to a recent article in the Wall Street Journal, there is one more. The fifth taste.

Umami.

Even if the name is strange, the savory character of the flavor is not. Parmesan cheese. Soy sauce. Roasted meat. Sautéed mushrooms. Dry wine. All of these are characterized by umami, a taste identified a century ago by Kikunae Ikeda, a Japanese scientist who named it with the term in his language for “deliciousness.” Nevertheless, it was only in 2000 that scientists at the University of Miami identified tongue receptors having no other function than to recognize that flavor.

In contrast to the instant but fleeting pleasure of sweet or salty, umami provides a taste sensation that yields lingering satisfaction. The discovery that foods with umami possess high levels of glutamate, an amino acid that is a building block of protein, led Mr. Ikeda to develop and patent his method of producing monosodium glutamate, or MSG.

Perhaps it was MSG’s reputation for contributing to a variety of health ailments that caused umami to go overlooked for so long. However, new studies indicate that a moderate intake of MSG poses no concern for most consumers, according to Michael Jacobson, executive director of the Center for Science in the Public Interest.

The food industry has responded with gusto. Gourmet chefs and manufacturers of mass-produced, packaged foods are searching for ways to incorporate umami into their products. However, not for the first time, Jewish tradition is way ahead of the curve.

The sages teach that, because each seasonal festival is a time of joy, the menu of every holiday meal should include meat and wine in order to contribute to the festive atmosphere. Says the Talmud: there is no joy without meat and wine — both of which are among the classic sources of umami, which is produced by drying, aging, curing, and slow cooking.

Apparently, the sages recognized that the joy of the festivals could be enhanced not only with good food, but with the right kind of good food. Cake and pie may be delectable and filling, but meat and wine satisfy a physiological need and produce a feeling of contentment that helps foster the proper mood for helping us appreciate the spiritual distinctiveness of the holidays.

Just as our craving for sweets is hardwired, so is our attraction to umami. According to one study, babies are more likely to finish foods that contain glutamate. Paradoxically, the difficulty we have defining umami suggests a subtlety associated with acquired taste. Where children respond naturally and immediately to sugar and salt, only a sophisticated palate will appreciated the savory quality of slow-cooked meat or well-aged wine.

Perhaps this offers a clue to why the sages referred to the Torah itself as the “spice of life.” For the pleasure-seeker who thrives upon instant gratification, the notion of acquired taste must be as incomprehensible as smothering his French fries with chocolate syrup. Indeed, an approach to life defined by mere moments of sensory buzz is the equivalent of a dietary menu comprising little more than fries and sundaes. The pleasure fades instantly away and leaves one perpetually hungry for more.

The reward for training one’s palate to enjoy the finer things is an enjoyment of the finer things. This applies equally to the palate of one’s tongue and to the palate of one’s character. Perhaps Jewish culture’s seeming obsession with food reflects a deeper appreciation that true happiness derives not from momentary physical stimulation but from true inner satisfaction. Good taste extends beyond what tastes good. And it extends beyond fashion as well. The cultivated ethical palate appreciates that the finest things in life come from a commitment to doing what is right and developing oneself into the best person one can become.

Aside from the insights of the sages revealed through the maturation of science and cooking, there is an even more obvious connection between umami and the divinity of Jewish wisdom. Of all the dishes that contain glutamate, there is one that appears on every list that attempts to describe umami’s savory and satisfying character: Chicken soup.

What could be more Jewish?

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• Are You Planning on Staying Up All Night to Learn on Shavuos?

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness

A few weeks after moving to the Bayit Vegan neighborhood of Jerusalem, a neighbor invited me to his home, and showing me his recently re-furbished dining room with its the long oak wood table, declared ‘the shabbos table is the center-piece of family education.’ Funny, I remember thinking to myself, our shabbos table is often the center-piece of family food-fighting. So if I’ve given an overly idealized impression of my family, I’m coming clean. Though I think it’s important to weave rich and positive stories for and about the family, it’s obviously not the whole picture.

In the Torah portion of from last week, those who had been excluded from the experience of Pesach come to Moses and ask: ‘why should we be diminished? we may have been ritually impure, but why shouldn’t we also get the chance to participate in the Passover ritual?’ They felt ‘diminished’ for not having had the opportunity to do a mitzvah–an amazing notion! So they ask Moses for a second chance. Though Moses is the greatest of all prophets, these laws were concealed to him. But upon relaying the question to G-d, the laws of Pesach Sheni–the ‘second Pesach’ for those who missed it the first time around–are revealed. The laws had been withheld from Moses so that, in the divine plan, those whom Rashi describes as ‘meritorious’ ask the question leading to further divine revelation. A question, as R. Yerucham from the Mir Yeshiva explains, already shows chachma or wisdom, because through it, one cultivates the possibility of a response. A good question–any teacher or parents knows this–allows for the bringing to light of something which otherwise would have remained unsaid. This sort of question is to be distinguished from those questions which are just dressed up answers; refusals to engage seriously; or ways of ending conversations before they start. But an engaged question is the means through which the concealed becomes revealed: the whole Torah, says R. Yerucham, is actually a response to Moses’s questions!

I thought this would be a great entry point to a discussion at our shabbos table. Notwithstanding a recent NY Times piece advocating the contrary, my wife and I divide our labors (confession: I don’t know how to use the washing machine!). At the shabbos table, even though my wife studies regularly, and arranges a weekly lecture (often in our house), I’m the one who usually initiates the words of Torah. With the same theatricality that I display when tasting the challos which my wife bakes, she introduces my divrei Torah. True, there was a time when both my divrei Torah and her challos (she started, years ago, with home ground organic wheat flour–which was like making motzie on compressed hockey pucks) needed work, but we’ve both become more proficient in our respective roles. I thought the ‘Questions’ topic would make a great discussion for the kids: ‘Have any of you had any questions this week?’ My son returned that a question occured to him, but he didn’t ask because his rebbe wouldn’t have known the answer (unlikely); one of my daughters said הכל מובן לי–or ‘I already understand everything!’ (extremely unlikely). One of my other daughters was already on the couch reading a book; and my youngest was still at the shabbos table, but singing a song (though not even a shabbos song). I paused, surveyed the situation, sighed, and gave up: ‘will someone pass the cholent please?’

After lunch, I was hoping my wife might offer some consolation. She reminded me that R. Yitzchock Hutner wrote in a letter to a distressed student that the verse in Psalms–’A tzaddik falls seven times’–doesn’t mean that even though he falls many times, the true tzaddik will eventually emerge. Rather when a true tzaddik finally does come into being, it’s because he’s fallen. Acknowledging personal failure and integrating those failures allows–in the end–for a person to reveal the tzaddik within. We become great because of our challenges, not in spite of them. It’s almost as if, in the endless interplay between concealment and revelation, challenges are the questions which help us to reveal who we are. R. Hutner refers to internal battles, but sometimes, as my wife pointed out, the world doesn’t accomodate the idealism of our plans, and one has to learn to live with those kinds of failures as well. Things sometimes don’t go the way you want.

This article was originally posted here.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• Are BTs Treated as Second Class Citizens?
• Conquering Bad Religious Experiences
• The Pesach Hotel Controversy
• Report from the Torah Umesorah Convention – Raising Maaminim in a Disbelieving World

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness

YY Bar-Chaiim

The typical Baal Teshuva is driven by a burning search for meaning. This often finds satisfaction within the plethora of thrilling spiritual experiences to be discovered within Torah life. But what happens when such a BT encounters one of those supremely thrilless rituals like Omer Counting?

Granted, in some communities there are spiritually gifted individuals who serve as models for infusing this Mitzvah with great fervor. Nevertheless, its technically monotonous nature takes its toll when, at least after the first weeks pass, some may find themselves mumbling the words with as much excitement as those who are “thrilled” to be done with it already!

So is there any way around this BT nemesis? The following is one perspective, relevant to every Jew, culled from the profoundly sober teachings of Nesivos Shalom.

*
“Just like the four cosmic worlds can be spoken of in terms of Asiya (Deed), Yetzira (Spirit), Briah (Mind) and Atsilus (Soul), so too there are four types of piety; each one a world unto its own.

“There is a class of pietists who are people of deed… They are scrupulous in physical and material matters, never indulging their appetite nor material pleasures, even when permissible.

“… Higher than this is the Service of spirit… No materialism has sway here, whatsoever. (Such a person) need not devote to overcoming appetites and materialism, but rather (invests in) a purely refined, unblemished Service (i.e. prayer).

“… Next is the world of mind… where no evil exists, whatsoever. It is a supremely spiritual world. (Such a Jew) elevates and devotes himself to lofty conceptions and emotions pertaining to Divine Service, until his very heart and flesh rejoice in the Living G-d.

“(Yet) even higher is the world of Soul, wherein not the slightest trace of materialism exists… (This can be explained) through the words of the Mishna [Shab. 66: B; Mishna 6: 9]: “Sons go out with connections; royalty go out with bells.”

~ N. Sh. I, Chossidus, 2 ~

*

An historical interjection: When parents used to take their children outside, they would tie their shoelaces to their own to ensure they wouldn’t get lost [Bartinura]. Thus, the question arises: Is this a form of carrying and thus prohibited on Shabbos? The Mishna rules that while dragging something along by your shoelace is technically carrying, in this case it’s permitted since parents and children share an inherent “connection.” So too do the bells worn by royalty express something intrinsic to their status and thus are not considered as being carried.

In jumps the Mezritcher Maggid (1710-1772). His spiritually penetrating interpretation of this Mishna sheds light on the nature of going “outside” the world of orthodox religious convention, explains the Nesivos. While this is generally a grave problem, there are two exceptions: Those who “royally” serve H’ and those who do so as “sons.” According to the Maggid, the former are totally immersed in the world of Briah/Mind. These are the Talmidei Chachamim who can rely upon the “bells” of Torah learning ringing in their heads to shield them from the onslaught of impure, worldly attractions. They are capable of engaging the non-Orthodox without being influenced by them. The “sons”, the Maggid teaches, function on an even higher level, called Atsilus,which we roughly translated as soul but literally means nearness or communion. This virtually divine sphere is reserved for those rare individuals who feel naturally at one with their Creator, far beyond their specific Torah knowledge. Like a young child feels about his parent, this Jew feels totally “connected” to H’.

To be sure, we see examples of this connection within those classic chassidic stories about little shepherd boys, or some other innocently uneducated Jews, who at one time or another are overwhelmed by their love for their Creator. The conclusion is always the same. They have NOTHING to give Him other than some seemingly very insignificant little thing, like a recital of the alphabet, a whistle or a song, which they proceed to offer with total devotion… until one of the local tsaddikim hear a heavenly voice declaring that this “little” prayer saved the entire community! Which brings us back to S’firas Ha’Omer. It is one of those seemingly insignificant little things, explains the Nesivos [vol. II Omer, 6], that can change the world or, more accurately, worldS. As per the custom to say at the conclusion of each counting, as printed in many siddurim: “…and through this (Mitzvah), may there flow an abundance (of Divine input) into all the worlds.” Accordingly, the Midrash teaches [VaYikra Rabba 28]: “One should never take the Mitzvah of Omer lightly, since it was through the merit of Omer-counting that our father Avraham inherited the Holy Land.” But could that really be? Simply by counting “today is x days in the Omer” the celestial U.N. would decree that the entire Land of Israel belongs to the Jews – for eternity!?

Indeed, concludes the Nesivos, it is PRECISELY because of the utter thrillessness of this Mitzvah that the first patriarch was able to serve his Maker with the purest, childlike devotion.
To be sure, this total purity of intention is the necessary component for inheriting the Land. As the Nesivos taught last week (Avos 4:4) about the connection between being meod meod shafel ruach, “very, very low spirited,” and the Land being called tova meod meod, “very, very good.” One is directly dependent upon the other. A thoroughly humble Jew will pine to come to Israel and vice versa.

Perhaps this also alludes to the aforementioned four levels of piety: There’s the arrogant deed doer, the humble spiritualist, the very humble learner and the thoroughly humble child. I.e. while doing godly acts is a tremendously important step in the process of Divine Service, if one stops there he has not only neglected to reign in his spiritual life but is taking pride in it! The serious Jew will accordingly give priority to prayer, which inherently involves the cultivation of humility. Yet, here too, the trial of pride digs in its claws. Meod, Meod! The Divine conscience will not give us peace within even the most heartfelt prayers until we emerge with renewed dedication to serving our Maker within two more dimensions: mind and soul.

A tall order? Certainly for the average BT who may find it difficult to maintain a steady and concentrated Torah learning regimen. To such a person it may even be a cruel slap in the face to imply he’s destined to wallow in the world of pride!
Ah – that’s why we’re given Sfiras HaOmer. It’s THE Mitzvah for BTs! Finally, we too can reach the peak of religious purity. Perhaps we can even lead the pack. For all we have to do is draw on that basic belief that got us into this business in the first place:

The belief in being “sons with connections.”

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• The Pesach Hotel Controversy
• Identity Theft of the Biggest Kind
• What Issues are You Confronting This Thanksgiving?
• Parshas Toldos – FFB and BT Tzaddikim
• Advice on Bar Mitzvah Lessons?

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness

   She let me know during our Friday afternoon Gut shabbos phone call, the call that I had made to show what a nice sister I was and to ask about the plans were coming along for our Dad’s yahrzeit commemoration.

   “ Yitz and I are coming round to the opinion that women shouldn’t be at the grave” .

   What?????? Her tone was so casual, I wondered if she even realized that she’d thrown a bomb of verbal dynamite in my direction.

   Her words threw me off balance, causing my whole body to tense up; every muscle morphed into petrified wood.

   She went on, talking apparently oblivious to my reaction.

   ”Yitz says that the seforim say that when women come to the grave the soton dances on the kever and Mom said that in Europe women never went to the grave..”

   I tried to take it all in—all that I’d just heard —that it was wrong for me to go to my Dad’s grave…. And that by going I’d be inflicting damage onto his soul and and violating family custom—a family custom I’d never even knew our family had.

   ”Gut Shabbos,” I murmured in a shaky voice, putting the receiver quickly before I’d have a chance to say something I’d later regret. My body was thawing out and the shock was turning to anger.

   “Where did she get her nerve ,” I asked myself. “ We aren’t hassidim. We never held this….Why is she putting this on me, this humra, I never heard of before.” .

   In the rational spots in my brain, I knew that my sister wasn’t trying to hurt me. She was a ba’alas teshuva, a newbie in the strictly orthodox world as were my brother in law and myself. Most likely she’d read something or heard something in a lecture or a conversation that had put this idea into her head, and now she couldn’t get it out. Caballistic customs especially as they relate to death are scary, even spooky.

   In her reckoning, the vision of a dancing Soton weighed more heavily than feelings at Yahrzeit time. But the question was, what about me? Did I have to go along with it too?

   With just minutes left to candle lighting, I phoned my Rov. Thank G-d for my Rov, a Talmid Chochum, an FFB, with uninterrupted generations of frumkeit flowing in his veins, wise, kind, and accessible. The Ribono Shel Olom must have been rooting for me because he picked up right away.

   “Yes,” he said, “There is such a custom… the Vilna Gaon did hold that way but that isn’t the majority opinion especially not in the US.” And then he added. “My sisters visit my father’s grave. It’s fine for you to go.”

   “It’s not a simple thing, taking on a new custom,” my Rov added. “It really requires a lot of thought.”

   Hearing my Rov made me feel strong, as if the ground had been restored beneath my feet. I would go to the Yahrzeit proudly, without ambivalent, vaguely guilty feelings, do what I needed to do and let my sister and brother in law do their own thing.

   In many ways we are similar, my sister and I, both BTs, both determined to get everything right in our Yiddishkeit, but sometimes, we can get carried away in our zeal to apply things we’ve learned.

   I once heard Rav Reisman talk about how he as a bochur had taken on his Rebbe Rav Pam z’l’s humra of not using hot water for dish washing on Yom Tov. Then when he married, he asked his Rebbe whether to continue. “Ask your wife, “ he was told . Predictably, the new Rebetzin was unenthusiastic about facing Yom Tov with a freezing sink and so the humra went by the wayside in favor of the larger goal of Shalom Bayis.

   That anecdote carries a big lesson, of putting people before pieties. Hazal tell us that circumstances don’t just come into our life randomly; they are set up by G-d as spurs to our growth. So rather than using this particular incident to nurse a grudge—which is of course contrary to halacha, I will try to grow from it, to remind myself that in my zeal to climb the ladder to heaven, I must be sensitive and take care not to trample the guy (or gal) on the rung below.

Postscript: I went to the cemetery on the Yahrzeit and my sister wasn’t there, but it was fine.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• Chelsea, Marc and Gitel – Studies in Dark and Light
• What are the Greatest Threats to Torah Judaism?
• An Amazing Opportunity…To Help Jews On Campus
• Authentic Kiruv – Part 1
• What Questions And Issues Bother(ed) You or Your Acquaintances?

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness

Many of us struggle with the difference between our internal and external lives. Perhaps for baalei teshuva this struggle is harder; the “old us” is always running, somewhere, under the surface. But this is not a challenge unique to BT’s, our tradition assures us. The seder hatefilos (order of prayer) provides an example we may overlook every day.

After morning brochos (blessings) and the Akeidah (the recitation of the Torah section about the “sacrifice” of Isaac) and before korbonos (the recitation of the sacrifices) in the morning prayers, there’s a little tefilla or amira (something you say that is itself not a petition to Hashem) called Le’olam yehei odom — “A Person Should Always Be.” In the Artscroll Siddur, it is translated as follows:

Always let a person be God-fearing privately and publicly, acknowledge the truth, speak the truth within his heart, and arise early and proclaim: Master of all worlds and Lord of all lords! Not in the merit of our righteousness do we cast our supplications before You, but in the merit of Your abundant mercy…

This prayer continues until the recitation of the first verse of kerias shema (recitation of the Shema), and then the brocha (authorities differ as to whether or not to say it as a complete brocha, i.e., with Hashem’s name in it) and, as the siddur points out, someone davening in a situation where he might not get to kerias shema on time should say the whole thing at this juncture.

Now, most siddurim say Le’olam yehei odom yireh shomayim b’seiser u’vagaluy: A person should always fear Hashem in public or in private. But scholars such as my rebbe R’ Aharon Lopiansky (now Rosh Yeshiva in Silver Spring, Maryland, and formerly on the staff at Aish HaTorah in Jerusalem), the author of the Aliyas Eliyahu siddur, point out that the old siddurim have the proper nusach (version) — they say only Le’olam yehei odom yireh shomayim b’seiser – a person should fear Hashem in private. In other words, he should fear Hashem in his heart of hearts, no matter what things seem to the outside world. The u’vagaluy obviously snuck in there (thanks to a local rav? a well-meaning printer?) because someone thought the ancient nusach sounded like “in secret” or something. But that misses the point: it is b’seiser that is really what this section of the siddur is about. This amirah is not about Kiddush Hashem b’farhesia (public sanctification of Hashem) or looking frum or looking not frum. It is about having yirah in your heart as you embark on the morning prayers in preparation go on to your day of living life with all its challenges.

This little thought satisfied me, and I conveyed it recently to a friend who enjoyed it, too, but this morning I saw another angle on this topic that seemed to complement it perfectly. It was in a tribute R’ Chanoch Henech HaCohen Leibowitz, zt’l, on his shloshim (the end of 30 days following his passing) written by Rabbi Yoel Adelman and Daniel Keren, printed in last Shabbos’s English HaModia, and it was an attempt to capture how R’ Henech embodied the ability of his rebbe, the great Alter of Slabodka zt’l, to be at once a grand spirit, a molder of men and the essence of humility:

The Navi Micha summarized the entire Torah in three basic principles: “Asos mishpat, ahavas chessed, v’hatze’a leches im Elokecha” — to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk modestly before Hashem. The Alter of Slabodka commented that to do justice requires one to be outspoken and resolute in the pursuit of justice.

Similarly, the chessed of Avraham was one where the entire world knew of him. His house was wide open in all four directions to all wayfarers. He was recognized [even] by the Hittites as “nesi Elokim — Prince of G-d.” How is it possible to be tzanua — to conceal oneself? Where is there even room for concealment?

The Alter explains that even when one performs the most visible of acts, the purity with which one does them is not visible. Two people can perform the very same chessed, but their intentions may be very different from each other. One might be doing the chessed purely for the sake of chessed, while his friend might be partially influenced by personal pleasure or personal gain. Therefore, one can conceal one’s greatness and purity even when performing great deeds.

The Rosh Yeshiva was always looking for ways to conceal his accomplishments and the purity which he brought to bear on all that he did.

The great man, the yorei shomayim b’seiser, is like the iceberg — called a berg or “mountain” of ice, so large does it tower on the frigid oceanic horizon; yet revealing only a fraction of its scale. He is seldom truly hidden, because a pure soul is typically perceived as such by those around him. But in fact he hides more than he shows. This takes Le’olam yehei odom yireh shomayim b’seiser beyond the mundane conception of “really, truly” holding Hashem in awe within yourself, regardless of what it looks like to others, and elevates it to the level of not only negating the need to include u’vagaluy, but to render it in fact redundant. And it reminds us of how reluctant we must be to believe we are capable of sounding the depths of another person — not only one who seems shallow, but one who seems to loom large as well.

Note: There will be a Community Wide Hesped to mark the Shloshim of HaGaon HaRav Alter Chanoch Henoch Leibowitz zt”l – Rosh HaYeshiva – Yeshiva Chofetz Chaim at the Yeshiva of Central Queens – 147-37 70th Road on Wednesday May 21, 2008 from 8:00pm – 9:30pm – Maariv to follow.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• What’s in a Name – Matisyahu?
• All Alone … Again
• Lakewood vs. Lakewood
• Giving Kibbudim to Baalei Teshuva
• Unity in Diversity in Ramat Beit Shemesh

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness

My, how I have grown. I don’t mean “how much.” I mean, “how,” as in the manner or progress of a thing.

One of the cliches we hear, and learn to repeat, as baalei teshuva is the idea that you have to always be moving forward, growing, or else you’re doing something other than staying the same. “Growth,” improvement, development, are necessary components to an ongoing, meaningful life as an observant Jew. This is the mussar imperative, and perhaps also a concept also found in chasidus, though it is not obvious from a casual study study of Judaism. To some extent the implantation of this idea early on in our development as orthodox Jews is the placement of what may propel most of us to “the right.” But this description of movement is facile… one dimensional.

On a graph along the X and Y axes, one would think that — if there were some way to quantify it — one’s avodas Hashem would be represented by a nice, smooth curve of upward spiritual growth. But we have discussed here many times how seldom it is that the experience is an unadulterated parabolic delight — or perhaps more accurately how the experience can be perfectly parabolic, in the less felicitous sense of featuring both the up and the down side of the curve.

Really, we should use integral calculus when measuring our ups and downs. As we all know, integral calculus means measuring the area under a curve, defined by f(x), between two points (say a and b). The area under a curve does not care what the shape of the curve is; its value is absolute. This value we may hypothesize as actually being the true measure of a meaningful Jewish life. Any life. Your life. (Yes, I recognize this steps a little on the toes of my most recent post on a related topic. Let us call this a… refinement.)

My curve in the last few years has been… funny. It wasn’t what I thought it would be. It wasn’t, perhaps, what I would have thought it ought to have been. The route it has traced along those famous axes has taken me places that I am sure if you had asked me ten or even five years ago I would not have volunteered to go. Life is full of surprises, though.

In my case, at a certain point I was in a holding pattern. I had not really continued growing. The pressures of family life, making a living, all those standard excuses, as well as laziness and, if I may use the term here, jadedness had probably kept me more or less meandering spiritually for a decade.

My curve dipped. It peaked; it valleyed. I needed to know, to feel, even to hurt more in order to be more, and God provided me with a number of extraordinary opportunities to learn more, some of which came at some risk to the safe and happy mental life in which I frolicked. For one, I got involved in new and different kinds of kiruv — don’t worry; all fully “sanctioned.” Also, through my professional life, I moved “up” in frum society, and thereby also gained behind the scenes looks at the sort of reality, sometimes squalid, sometimes glorious but necessarily anonymous, that does not get taught in beginners’ seminars. And, off a less beaten path, I chose to establish genuine friendships — not kiruv files — with people who had views about the Torah world and even the Torah itself with whom I previously would not have ever had anything to do, and I engaged them sincerely, as equals, and listened to what they had to say, and then some. In short, I exposed myself to the rough edges. Some pointy-rough edges, in fact, which were encroaching on me stealthily, anyway. But this engagement is what they tell us, as we leave BT school, we’re not supposed to do. And what I wrote in these very “pages” I would not do. But I did it.

The sort of engagement I took up, really, may not be for everyone. You have to have quite a bit of self-confidence, and ego, to follow the curves I have in this latest stage of my “growth.” I had to do it. I have to still. With my characteristic modesty I will remind those not already bored of hearing it that I was an early success, a quick learner, almost literally a poster boy for the movement. So I got “there” fast — and then what? After a period of stasis, I had to open the doors again (were they the same doors?) and walk through them and see who I really was, and who and what I could yet become. And I did.

And I am still here, never more sure of who I am, and the decisions I have made. I learned through these encounters to appreciate more than ever the world in which I have ensconced myself, — even if some of my new friends (and they will always be that, I hope) shake their heads more in wonder than ever about my choices, knowing me and my views and where we might agree about what they think are crucial things. They may not understand what they have done for me — how their passion, their honesty, the blood from their wounds they have bled on me and the gall of their own devices with which they have splashed me — have nourished who I am now, and what I can yet become as a Jew, if only because I opened my heart a crack … as a Jew really should do. I would never have dreamed, if you had told me about where I would “go” emotionally and psychologically in this process, how much stronger, deeper, wiser I would be at the end of it, how much more meaning there is in my choice, how much more love there is in my life.

Maybe my particular wrestling matches were not for everyone, but there is some juncture… some moment… some challenge… some “hard” or obnoxious question, from which each of us, depending on who we are, and where it is, and when, should not walk away. For our own good, our own eternity. That encounter is different for all of us, but at this time in history, in our place, each of us must, at some point, engage this world.

The formula that defines my curve is mine alone. The measure of it all is, I say, what is accumulated under the curve and, with God’s help, in its continued progress… yes, upward. Because of where my formula has taken me in the last few clicks along the x-axis, I will never be the same, after too long of being just that. Is there any other way to define growth? For me, there was not.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• When Your Choices Hit On All Four Cylinders
• Some Questions about Chanukah?
• Is Learning Yeshivish Important?
• My First Sheitle
• Nullified by the Majority

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness

Over and over again we hear that the best way to make longterm spiritual improvements is through slow and steady work towards our goal. How many times have any of us been told that the surefire way to a BT backslide is to take on too much too fast.

Recently, on a personal productivity blog, I learned of the Jerry Seinfeld method of self improvement and thought it was very well suited to spiritual improvement and Torah learning. Granted, it is not an earth-shattering, ground-breaking method. But nine times out of ten the best way to do things is so obvious it is overlooked.

Basically, the way Jerry Seinfeld became a successful comedian was through self-discipline and a visual method of encouraging himself to keep up the good work. He purchased a large wall calendar (the kind where you can see the entire year on one page) and challenged himself to write one new joke a day. Every day that he wrote a new joke, he got to draw an ‘X’ through that day on the calendar. Once he had a few days in a row with X’s through them, he had a chain and was motivated to “not break the chain.”

Again, this method sounds very simplistic, but I can tell you it is very satisfying to see a wall calendar with weeks worth of red X’s. And this method is particularly well-suited to Jewish learning as so many of our most important texts have already been broken down into segments suitable for daily learning.

I personally have moved my Seinfeld-style chain to a website called ToDoist (www.todoist.com). It’s a website that allows you to set up all sorts of “to do” lists and manage large projects. The site’s creator has created a tool within the site meant specifically for the Seinfeld method of self improvement. I’d be happy to explain how to use ToDoist in the comments if anyone is interested.

So why not challenge yourself to learn a little Torah each day and pat yourself on the back with a a visual record of your accomplishment? If you are still growing in your mitzvah observance, this could also be a great way to progressively take on new mitzvot. For example, you could use this method to start saying the bedtime Shema each night, or laying teffilin, or saying the Birkat Hamazon. Seasoned BTs might want to challenge themselves to eliminate loshon hara from their lives; they could mark their calendar every day they filled with only positive speech. The possibilities are endless.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• All Posts In Author Order

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness

Originally Posted on
A Simple Jew

Often, one will see Baalei Teshuva (BT) performing mitzvos with much zeal and alacrity, and they actually seem to be really enjoying it. Many who are frum-from-birth (FFB) will be envious of this and, unfortunately, some fools will snicker and make some derogatory statement about BTs, as if it’s strange to enjoy doing a mitzvah. The reason is that they have a complex about themselves not performing mitzvos up to par, even though they were raised in observant homes. There are things that can help FFB’s put some zeal into their service of Hashem, perhaps by mirroring BTs in some manner.

The following is based on the experiences of myself and others that I’ve spoken to. Not everything will work for everyone, but I think much of the following will be useful to many. If anyone has any further ideas please comment.

Teshuva

If I might suggest, perhaps one reason why BTs observe Yiddishkeit with such passion is because they receive some special Siyata D’Shmaya, since Hashem is so happy, so to speak, at these people returning to their Father in Heaven. But remember, teshuva does not belong exclusively to BTs. Everyone, even the greatest tzadik, can do teshuvah. There is always something that needs improvement. If FFBs do teshuva, by improving at least one little thing at a time and making a commitment to constantly try to improve, one step at a time, then perhaps FFBs can also acquire some special Siyata D’Shmaya. After all, who really thinks about teshuvah outside of the months of Elul and Tishrei.

If you don’t know how to go about your own path of teshuva then beseech Hashem to guide you in your path of teshuva. One little thing at a time. Many people, if you look at them compared to a month a go, you will not see much change, but if you look at them compared to 5 years ago you see a different person. Compare them to 10 years ago and they might seem like they’re from another planet. For many if they try to change too much at a time it becomes difficult and they give up. If you take a little step at a time you won’t give up and before you know it you’ll be a different person.

Ask Hashem

Ultimately, all is in the Hand of Hashem, so ask Hashem for help in performing and enjoying the Mitzvos properly. Also, talk to Hashem in your own words. Before you go into a business meeting, ask Hashem to put the right ideas and decisions into your head. Before buying a new car, house, etc., ask Hashem to guide you towards the right decision. And so on. If you ask Hashem for assistance in everything, you will feel a lot closer to Hashem.

Enjoying Mitzvos

For many FFBs, doing mitzvos and davening, turns them into robots. 3 prayers a day, a Yom Tov here, a Shabbos there and so on, as opposed to a BT, who is not used to all this. For him, it is fresh and exciting, as it should be for everyone. Many FFBs might remember the excitement of putting on Tefilin for the first time. How can we get excited about doing mitzvos and serving Hashem? As long as what we do is by rote, the mitzvos may seem boring. Don’t get me wrong, no matter how we feel we have an obligation to do Hashem’s command, but if we enjoy it, this will make it easier and we will be more careful to observe the mitzvos properly. This will bring a lot more “Nachas Ruach” to the Ribono Shel Olam. (Imagine how an earthly king would look at someone doing his commands with as little effort as possible, just enough to prevent himself from being executed by the king.)

We need to learn the Halachos, at least on a basic level to know what we are doing. Next, there are seforim that will make you look at davening, Yom Tov, Shabbos and other mitzvos in a whole new light. The best example of two such seforim is Yesod Veshoresh Ha’Avodah and Kav Hayosher (I used these as examples, because they are great seforim, written for people on all levels, and they are respected by Chasidim and Misnagdim, Ashkenazim and Sephardim. Kav Hayashar is available in English.) These seforim will actually help you enjoy the mitzvos. Yesod Veshoresh Ha’Avodah writes the kavanas one should have and says why we should be filled with joy by a particular mitzvah. Similarly, the Kav Hayashar will often times take esoteric teachings and bring it down to earth making it easy to understand. An example of this is how he explains the reason for many of the hidden “Sheimos” in the Megila. This will make you listen to the Megila in a whole new way.

For some an English sefer, might be the way to go. Also, different people enjoy different approaches. Many of the Sifrei Chassidus can give one a totally new outlook of Shabbos and Yom Tov. Perhaps the most famous is Bnei Yisaschor, which these days is often quoted by many non-Chassidic and Sephardic Rabbanim. In the sefer, he will take you through every moth of the year, with the most fascinating thoughts that are sure to change the way one looks at each season. One of the most important things, I believe, is to constantly read more seforim on davening, Yom Tov, etc. This reinforces the importance of all these.

Yom Tov

A good way to get into the right frame of mind before a Yom Tov is to learn the relevant Gemara (at least parts of it), such as Tractate Megila before Purim. Of course, one needs to review the relevant halachos before each Yom Tov. I find that in the basic halacha I will find things that I don’t remember from the year before or that I’ve never seen before. All these are tools to enjoy Yom Tov. For many Yom Tov is a burden, but if you learn the halachos, and perhaps some Gemara and Seforim Hakedoshim (such as the seforim mentioned earlier) on the subject it will be a whole new Yom Tov. You will actually enjoy it. I hear saying how they are so happy that Yom Tov is over, because it’s so much trouble. On my own low level, I have come to love each Yom Tov and hate when it’s over. This came from learning what the Seforim Hakedoshim write on the Yom Tovim. They gather sources from Tanach, Gemara, Medrash, Kabalah, etc. and weave it all together into a beautiful tapestry that puts into one’s heart the essence of a Yom Tov.

Final Thought

The bottom line is that everyone on needs their Avodah “fresh”. Some people can walk into Shachris, everyday, excited. But, for most of us we need something to help us get and keep up the excitement. We also need to improve our emunah, which the Seforim Hakedoshim speak about at length, because if internalize it, then it will obviously be eaisier to serve Hashem. These were a few thoughts I had on the subject. I think I have been at least mildly successful so far, because some people are looking at me in a funny way, since I’m trying to serve Hashem with zeal and alacrity. I think I feel a bit like a BT.

People who looked at this item also looked at…

• All Posts In Author Order
• Using BT Passion for Outreach
• My Two Cents on BT-Ness
• Plateauing & Leaving the Cave
• Predictable Surprises: Post Purim Reflections

Related items

• Becoming Selfless
• Holden Caulfield and the Lack of Observance
• Learning from Our Friends
• Making Sure the Slow Path Remains a Path
• Rebbetzin Heller on Complacency and Happiness