Chag Sameach? This Year It's Been Challenging

Sukkot is supposed to be a time of joy. After all, it's a mitzvah, especially on Sukkot, when we're surrounded by other mitzvot. You eat - and it's a mitzvah (if you're in the Sukkah). You sleep, and it's a mitzvah. Normally, those two only have religious value on Shabbat. What's not to be happy about?
And yet, I find myself in a funk. There's a heaviness that weighs me down, always in the back of my mind. This morning, I figured it out. It's about Gilad Shalit.
I'm not a general, but the outcome of freeing hundreds of terrorists can be good, even from the perspective that you're bolstering the standing of a terrorist organization who will glorify these murderers and extol others to follow in their footsteps. This is clearly an emotional decision, not a logical one, and one wonders about the cost of making emotional decisions like these. Moreover, I have no blame for Gilad's family whose only wish was to see their son return home. I understand their pain and their efforts to secure their son's release.
But I cannot help but feel for the families of the victims of these terrorists. Every day when I read the news, yet another name comes to the fore, reminding us of a heinous terrorists whose vicious acts will forever remain etched into our collective consciousness. It was bad enough the we had to live through their actions once. Now we have to set them free?
And, if I feel pain, I cannot imagine the pain of the families who lost loved ones during these many acts of murder. Do they not have a say in these matters? We've been hearing the Shalits for years (sadly). Before we made such a momentous decision, would it not have been fair to hear the side of the victims of terror - at least to allow them to voice their frustrations and anguish before signing off on the deal.
Their pain must be our pain as well.
I can see the joyous headlines on the news sites about Gilad's return, but in truth, there's nothing to be happy about in this entire ordeal. I wish - even though I know it won't happen - that Gilad Shalit and his family could return home quietly, without fanfare, and especially without the certain media circus to follow, if only out of a sense of compassion for the people suffering yet again through this ordeal. And yet, the media must have its fill. And with a story like the freeing of Gilad Shalit, the media's hunger cannot be satiated.
With these thoughts swirling in my head as I sit in my Sukkah, I'm still supposed to be happy? A very diffiult task indeed.

What's Under the Me'arat Hamachpelah Part 1

Noam Arnon, Spokesman for the Chevron Jewish Community

As I mentioned in earlier posts, I was in Chevron last week for a work-related conference. After the "work" related portion ended, we headed to the Me'arat Hamachpelah for davening and then a tour. After we all davened minchah, we gathered together for a talk from Noam Arnon, who is the official spokesman for the Jewish community of Chevron. He also writes semi-regularly for Arutz 7 in Hebrew here.
There, he told a somewhat well-known story that I had never heard before and answered a question that I had always wondered about: What is really under the Me'arat Hamachpelah.
After the 1967 Six Day War, Israeli leaders made the tragic decision to return control of Judaism's holiest sites - including the Temple Mount and the Cave of the Patriarchs - to the Muslif Wakf. It's a decision we're still paying for to this very day.
It so happens that in one of the main halls (The Hall of Yitzchak) of the Tomb in Chevron, there's an obvious circular door in the floor. One only need lift up the cover and climb down to find out what's there.  Two things stand in the way of climbing down. The first is simple fear. There's a significant literature of legends promising death (or worse) to people who violate the sanctity of the final resting place of our Forefathers (and, according to the Midrash, Adam Harishon as well.) The second reason is more practical: the Arabs refused to allow anyone to do any type of archaeological research in "their" holy places.

Michal Dayan Being Lowered into the Cave

Moshe Dayan, then the Mister of Defense, had a thing for Israeli antiquities. (Apparently, he liked keeping them for himself too, or so I've heard.) He soon began to regret returning control of Me'arat Hamachpelah to the Arabs, because they  refused to consider the issue of exploring the cave. So Dayan, not to be troubled with simple matters like the opinions of Arabs took matters into his own hands. His daughter Michal, then around twelve years old, happened to be exceedingly skinny, and could slip into the hole through one of the small openings in the door so that the cover could then be returned without the Arabs learning what he had done. (This story is referenced on the Machpelah website in Hebrew here.) One evening, he told the Arabs to "get lost for a while" (back then people listened to Moshe Dayan) and they lowered his daughter into the cave. When she reached the ground, she found herself along a long narrow passageway. She followed the path until she reached a staircase - leading up. She climbed up the staircase and found a large stone blocking her path. She knocked on the stone and soon...heard someone knock back. (That would have freaked me out too!) She quickly made her way back down the stairs and had herself lifted out of the hole, no worse for wear, but no secrets revealed.
Yet, Arnon said, what she told them gave the Jews of Chevron the critical information that they needed to make their own attempt to enter the cave.

To be continued...

The More Things Change...

The NY Times Magazine carried a fascinating piece (A State is Born in Palestine) on the undercover efforts of Zionist interests to sway the opinions of the UN Special Committee on Palestine - called UNSCOP. It's a short piece, and a captivating read of how the early Zionists embraced the UN committe, and worked hard to win over sceptical delegates who would write the report that led to the creation of the Jewish State. It's an important piece for a number of reasons:
1. It points to the resourcefulness of the Israelis (then Palestinians) who were willing to use whatever tools necessary to promote their cause. Sure we had to have the guns to fight and defend ourselves afterwards. But before we could even fight, we needed an internationally recognized state, which is exactly what we got.
2. It highilghts the critical importance of diplomatic efforts and the need for Hasbarah. Because the world - or at least the committeee - saw our point of view, it was able to write a report that could accept the Jews receiving half of Palestine, and not nothing at all. If you think that these efforts are any less important today, you're kidding yourself. World (and US) opinion really does matter. It matters not only what members of the US Government think (so join and get active in AIPAC). It also matters what your friends, coworkers and classmates think. So share that pro-Israel video on Facebook and forward the YouTube video. Every little bit matters.
3. It highlights just how foolish the Arabs have been - and continue to be. At times, it seems like the only thing that saves us from ourselves is the Arabs' intrasegience. If the Arabs had accepted the '48 plan, would we control Jerusalem today? Would I have been able to pray at Me'arat Hamachpelah last week? What if Arafat had accepted Israel's offer of 97 percent of the "West Bank" in 2000 at Camp David? What would have come of the Palestinians' current UN bid if they weren't also still shooting rockets at us and killing our citizens on the roads?
Clearly, God works in mysterious ways. But sometimes it seems clear that God prefers to operate through our enemies' foolishness. Or, to quote the Iranian delegate to UNSCOP, Nasrollah Entezam, “What asses the Arabs are! The country is so beautiful, and it can be developed. If they gave it all to the Jews, they would transform it into Europe!”
Indeed.

The Tears of Sacrifice and a Visit to Chevron

Each year during the Aseret Yemei Teshuvah, Orot (where I work) coordinates a day for all of the educators which combines meetings, speeches, etc, as well as an Israel component. This year we had the in-service day in Kiryat Arba/Chevron. It was a very moving experience for me. No, not the meetings. They were fine. But Chevron during the Asert Yemei Teshuva was very significant. I'll explain.

The sages wove the theme of Akeidat Yitzchak throughout the entire liturgy of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. That single event - the willingness of both Avraham and Yitzchak to make the ultimate sacrifice - carried eternal meaning for God and His people. Avraham built up an eternal, unending credit with God that we invoke to this very day. Mussaf on Rosh Hashanah makes repeated mention of the Akeidah. Selichot mention the Akeidah incessantly; in fact, there's a special selichah each day dedicated to the Akeidah. This year I came across a very beautiful, quite well-know piyyut recited by the Sefardim each day called עת שערי רצון - whose moving language somehow stirs my soul, with the refrain at the end of each verse returning to the theme, העוקד, הנעקד והמזבח - "the binder, the bound and the altar." (You can find the words here, and numerous musical versions exist on YouTube. One particularly haunting one is here.) If you follow the poetry, you'll notice four lines of a particular rhyme - and then the fifth line ends with a word that ends with the sound "aiyach" - leading to the final line of each verse: "oked, ne'ekad v'hamizbeach."
The most moving verse (to me) is:

הֵכִין עֲצֵי עוֹלָה בְּאוֹן וָחַיִל

 וַיַּעֲקֹד יִצְחָק כְּעָקְדוֹ אַיִל

וַיְהִי מְאוֹר יוֹמָם בְּעֵינָם לַיִל

וַהֲמוֹן דְּמָעָיו נוֹזְלִים בְּחַיִל

 עַיִן בְּמַר בּוֹכָה וְלֵב שָׂמֵחַ

 עוֹקֵד וְהַנֶּעְקָד וְהַמִּזְבֵּחַ 

He prepared the wood of the Olah with strength and vigor (chayil)
And he bound Yitzchak as he would bind a ram (ayil)
And the light of the day was in their eyes night (layil)
And many tears flowing in force (chayil)
Eyes bitterly crying with a joyous heart (sameach)
Oked, V'hane'ekad V'hamizbeach

The last lines haunt me, as I think of the bitter tears of sadness and trauma, and the simultaneous emotion of joy at fulfilling the will of God - and perhaps the interconnection of the two; the greatest devotion can only come from that willingness to sacrifice that which we consider most dear.
I just find the notion of the akeideh very powerful and moving this year. God does not ask us to sacrifice our children, nor would he. It was a once-in-history request. But He does ask us to make different sacrifices in His service, some smaller, some larger. Perhaps it's the sacrifice of a new car, as the yearly tuition bill makes a new car impossible. Perhaps it's the sacrifice of career advancement in the face of Shmirat Shabbat. Perhaps it's the sacrifice of family, career and comfort for the challenge of Aliyah. But religious life finds its greatest meaning in the mingling and melding of the joyous heart and the tears of sacrifice.
And then we went to Chevron.
I'm sure you've been there. It's often a madhouse, and this experience wasn't much different. There were numerous school groups, some reciting selichot (in the middle of the day), others singing and dancing. But somehow, through the noise and din - and perhaps because of it - I was able to find a level of concentration in my tefillot, and tried to connect to the memory - and zechut of a Forefather so totally dedicated to God, that he willingly sacrificed his dreams, love, hope and future simply because God asked him to.
That act shaped our collective history. It affects us to this day. It established a bond between God and His people and a model for us to emulate that continues to drive us all. May it also serve as a merit for each of us. May it spur us to make the sacrifices that we need to, and feel the joy that comes from that act. And may the merit of Avraham Avinu bring us closer to God this year, and serve as a source of connection, closeness and blessing for Klal Yisrael.
Gmar Chatimah Tovah.

Shabbat Shuvah 5772: Temimut - A Critical Key to Teshuvah

Audio Shiur:
Shabbat Shuvah 5772: Temimut - A Critical Key to Teshuvah

The Grave of Avraham Yedidyah in Chevron

A recent tour of Chevron, and my focus of late on the Avot and the Akeidah in particular, turned my attention to the mitzvah of Temimut. What does it mean to be "tamim"? How do we achieve this attribute? And how can pursuing temimut make us better people, and enhance our Teshuvah?

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Derech Hashem Shiur 6 - The Stages of the Soul Part 2

Audio Shiur:
Derech Hashem Shiur 6 - The Stages of the Soul Part 2

(This shiur studies the classic work of Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzatto on Jewish Thought.)

We finish Part 1 Chapter 3, analyzing the various stages of existence intended for man's development and purification as we come closer to God and our personal perfection.

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Derech Hashem Shiur 5 - The Stages of the Soul Part 1

Audio Shiur:
Derech Hashem Shiur 5 - The Stages of the Soul Part 1

(This shiur studies the classic work of Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzatto on Jewish Thought.)

Section 1 Chapter 3 continues with a description of how God originally intended for man to develop and purify his body through his soul - and how things dramatically changed after Adam Harishon sinned.

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Derech Hashem Shiur 4 - Earning God's Goodness

Audio Shiur:
Derech Hashem Shiur 4 - Earning God's Goodness

(This shiur studies the classic work of Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzatto on Jewish Thought.)

Would you rather earn God's goodness, or just get it? Well, God would rather you earn it. Which makes life much, much more challenging...but possibly rewarding.

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The Good Life

On our list of items for which we pray, we generally include: health, blessing, and prosperity. In our minds, parnassah plays a prominent role in our assessment of the blessings that we enjoy. This seems logical, as our livelihood impacts prominently on so many other areas of life.
And yet, during davening today, it dawned on me that while we do certainly pray for a good livelihood, it's not at all connected to the quality of our lives. During the responsive section of Avinu Malkeinu, we pray that God inscribe us in a number of books.

כתבנו בספר חיים טובים

כתבנו בספר גאולה וישועה

כתבנו בספר פרנסה וכלכלה

Inscribe us in the Book of Good Life
Inscribe us in the Book of Redemption and Salvation.
Inscribe us in the Book of Livelihood and Sustenance

These clearly are three distinct and separate books. (Wouldn't you love to download the Book of Good Life on your Amazon Kindle and read that!) We pray first for a Good Life, and only later for parnassah. They are not, as we might have imagined, interconnected. Apparently, one need not be blessed with Livelihood and Sustenance to be inscribed in the Book of Good Life.
What then does it mean to live a Good Life?

Two Days of Yom Tov and Other Halachic Challenges

Tablet recently ran a piece about the challenges of keeping two days of Yom Tov, especially when the calendar bombards Shomer Shabbat communities with three three-day Yom Tovs in a row (and will again over the next three years!) The piece, while chronicling the challenges of fastidious observance to Yom Tov, also notes that there are people in the Orthodox community who "choose" to keep only one day. After all, they reason, the first day is biblical, while the second is only rabbinic.
This isn't a new observation. I can remember one member of a shul I served in who would "work" on the second day of Yom Tov for many of the same reasons outlined in the piece. Moreover, I've noticed a growing phenomenon of Orthodox Jews who, when in Israel, don't keep a second day of Yom Tov in any way - not even a "day and a half".
If this is a "growing" trend, I can think of several reasons:
Many people who live within the big tent of Orthodoxy are not all or nothing people. They struggle with the challenge of the demands of traditional Judaism, and make compromises. I'm not judging them, and actually celebrate the fact that they consider themselves Orthodox nonetheless. But they should keep both days, and I hope that they know this, despite any justifications they create for themselves.
More significantly, people who come to Israel and keep only one day (because they either own an apartment here, or they come for all three yom Tovim, or they have a cousin who operates an Israeli website, or any other reason) then return home for the next holiday and and feel a sense of dissonance. After all, last year, they ate a falafel on the 8th day of Yom Tov, and this year it's completely forbidden? Last year, they were snorkeling in the Kineret on the first day of Chol Hamoed while their friends were sitting down to yet another heavy meal in the Sukkah. And this year they too must "suffer". What other halachah seems to change by location? (Imagine having to keep the laws of tzniut in Brooklyn, but not in Miami. Ridiculous, right? Er...) That dissonance makes it easier to begin to slowly reject the entire notion of the validity of the second day.
Moreover, with the advent of global, instant communication, people in the Golah know exactly what concerts we've been to on their "second" day. They have an immediate sense that people they know who are perfectly observant don't observe two days of Yom Tov. And, while they know the law, that doesn't make it any more emotionally palatable.
I suppose that we here in Israel don't make things any easier for our exiled brethren. In emails and phone calls, blog posts and Facebook updates, we're constantly extolling the virtues of one day of Yom Tov: the added vacation day of Chol Hamoed, the avoidance of three-day yom Tovs, (two this year. And next year. And the year after that. Sorry, I'm doing it. See? We just can't stop ourselves.) One Seder! But, in doing so, we cheapen the idea of the two days of Yom Tov in the exile, and the obligation of observant Jews to maintain both days under all circumstances. Sure, it's in good fun. And of course Golah Jews could avoid our good-natured jabs by simply moving to Israel. But I must admit: It's not that nice, and it probably doesn't help matters. Nor do I believe it promotes aliyah either. (I just can't see Nefesh B'nefesh's new marketing campaign as, "Aliyah: You'll Never Make a Second Seder Again.")
On the other hand, I have little sympathy for people who complain that keeping two days is just two hard. The article quotes Rabbi Alan Brill who posted on his blog,

“The past few years there has been a growing tension among those who work in interactive professions about their need to check their blackberries on Yom Tov,” he wrote. “Some fields need daily input.”

Really? These people never go on vacation? They never ever walk away from their Blackberries for more than one full day? Please.
I just think back to the stories my grandfather would tell about his work life during the early 20th century in New York. He'd get a job on Sunday in some store, and not show up on Shabbat. When he'd come back on Sunday morning, his boss would tell him to get lost. That went on until he found a boss who didn't fire him on when he came to work on Sunday morning.
He sacrificed for Shmirat Shabbat, and every one of his grandchildren remains observant today. I don't doubt that putting away the iPhone for three days is hard. I'm certain that the work pressures are immense. But the costs of not making the sacrifice are far greater in the long run.