Home › View all posts by Guest Contributor › Page 24

Author: Guest Contributor

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me a Match…

Posted on by — 12 Comments ↓

By “MG”

While on some level, my mom probably still has the idea in the back of her head that I am going about my daily business with an inner monologue singing for someone slender and pale and waiting for a telephone call from The Matchmaker with “The One”, she acknowledges that she doesn’t _actually_ think that’s _actually_ how things work… Anymore.

As it turns out, Baruch HaShem, shidduchim was one of the first topics that I explained to my mom that she thought was a good idea. Goal-oriented dating with marriage in mind was something she approved of. It sounded like a good approach. She didn’t seem to be caught up in an idea that it was outdated, and she understood it for its practical relevance.

So, thank G-d, my mom is supportive of my approach in dating. And she’s interested in being helpful. “Mom, I’ve been thinking about the characteristics that I need in a husband. What do you think?” is a beginning of a conversation with her. She is also thoughtful and insightful in her responses to questions on some of my best characteristics. I’m grateful for the relationship that we have.

While this is good, I don’t think that it is enough to get me, as a BT, through the phase of shidduchim.

As a BT ‘in the parsha’, I find that my experience is vastly different from the experiences of others in the parsha in my community. Of the families who I am reasonably close with who have been blessed to be involved in recent wedding celebrations, it seems that the majority of matches have been made through family members, chevrusas, or other friends of the family. In other words, it’s a small enough Jewish world that the natural Jewish networking (likely combined with a fair dose of parental advocacy—‘Do you know anyone for my Rivkele?’) is sufficient, baruch HaShem, to create many happily married couples.

This network is also something extremely helpful for checking references. A parent checking out a potential match for a child may already know the potential match’s rebbi or the staff at the camp where the potential match was a counselor. With a personal connection established, maybe directly, maybe through a close intermediary, more information can flow more freely about the appropriateness of the suggested match.

As a BT, I have not had a lifetime full of connections in the frum world, and my network seems to be relatively small.

Practically speaking, when it comes to shidduchim, I need to outsource a few different things that would otherwise be done ‘in house’—in the family.

I have to actively think about how to expand my network or access the networks of others, and I need to solicit and make myself available to shidduch suggestions.

I need mentorship in the shidduch process in general and in investigating individual matches.

I need someone who will check references of the men suggested to me.

I need a personal advocate who will be on my side throughout the trials of the process.

Some of these roles can be played by friends and mentors that I have in the community. And the last one can be played in part by my family (frum or not) and select friends. But in some senses, the all-too-easy default option, is to take on myself, as many of these roles as possible.

While that may be convenient for a while and have the advantage of minimizing my obligation to others, I worry that it is not a sustainable model. When I put my energies into shidduchim and fill these various roles, I sometimes feel like I am working four jobs. Personally, professionally, physically, socially, and spiritually, I sustain myself and try to grow. I serve as my own network advocate. I call references, ask questions, and get more phone numbers in order to track down the connection through which the information will best flow. And I encourage and advocate for myself, saying, ‘You’re one phone call closer! Aren’t you excited to find out all the great things about this guy?!’

I’m not sure that it’s possible to do things this way, and if it is, I don’t think that it’s the best idea. I think that many other BTs are facing similar challenges. These BTs would benefit from a lot of different types of assistance in navigating shidduchim. If you want to help someone you know, there is more than one way to do it. If you think you know someone who is appropriate, you could certainly make a suggestion, but if you don’t, it doesn’t mean that you can’t be helpful. Serve as an entry point into ‘The Jewish Network’. Maybe you know someone who knows someone who is an appropriate match. Offer to call references. Suggest that if there are any references from your yeshivah or seminary, you would be happy to make the connection. Be a mentor for the shidduch process in general. Be a more general source of support, or suggest someone who could play that role.

Jewish marriages involving BTs happen between people who are living in distant states and between people who may have grown up in different countries from where they were when they developed into who they are today. As such, it takes more than just one matchmaker/person to bring together the zivugim that HaShem calls out. You can choose any of several ways to partner with HaShem to help bring these matches together.

Matchmaking: Not just for Yenta anymore.

Cleaning the Bottom of Our Pots

Posted on by — 9 Comments ↓

By Carolyn

For the first seven years of our marriage, we spent Rosh Hashanah with my husband’s Uncle David and Tante Ursula. It was one of the highlights of our year.

Then we moved home to Massachusetts. While our hearts filled with joy to be near our parents, we always feel a bittersweet lack on Rosh Hashanah away from Uncle David and Tante Ursula.

Whatever we manage to provide for our guests at our own Rosh Hashanah table, our best results are but an ambitious imitation of theirs. Whatever we happen to get right is due to witnessing the sparkling and passionate conversations, learned and inspiring divrei Torah, spontaneous and harmonious singing, delicious and elegantly presented meals, the atmosphere of generosity and appreciation, and the overall kedushah (sanctity) of their home.

As a young bride I found Tante Ursula’s kitchen inspiring. I still do. It was spotless and efficient, yet open and warm. It was overflowing with both love and every tool necessary, yet it was without clutter or waste. It was a serious workplace adorned with fresh flowers and posters from the family’s many travels. Visitors felt as comfortable relaxing over tea on the sofa, as stirring the soup while the pomegranates were being peeled.

The kitchen table held a freshly starched tablecloth in a bright, colorful floral pattern that was both elegant and uncontrived. It was perfectly ironed – without a wrinkle – yet not the least bit stiff. Her kitchen table was a place to linger for a chat after breakfast, to work a crossword, to polish silver, or to play a very unorthodox game of Scrabble.

On my first visit we had been married exactly one month. After dinner the first night of that first Rosh Hashanah, as Tante Ursula and I were putting the stock pots away, she paused and looked meaningfully at me. She said that when she was first married, her aunt told her, “One should always clean the bottom of one’s pots just as carefully and as well as the inside.”

Since we all hail from solid yekkish stock, earnest housecleaning advice certainly could be taken at face value. And Tante Ursula isn’t prone to religious sermonizing. Her insights are more likely to be revealed via reflection on her irreverent quips or ironic turns of phrase. She keeps her soap-boxes neatly stacked in her closet.

Likely due to the Rosh Hashanah mood, or perhaps from the intensity of its delivery, or maybe because my eagerness to collect whatever wisdom from them I could absorb, I knew immediately that this advice could only be about everything but the pots.

The first part was easy. The outside of the pot is what’s visible in public. If this is messy, others will make assumptions about its contents and about the cook. Yet nobody knows what’s really goes on inside someone else’s pot.

Clearly, the inside of the pot is our private behavior, either at home with family, or in solitude. The cleanliness of the inside of the pot is vital to the integrity of the meal. If you don’t clean the inside of the pot, even the most savory roast will be spoiled. Washing the outside at the expense of cleaning the inside is an indication of misplaced priorities.

But the bottom of the pot? What difference could it possibly make if there is a stain that nobody sees, that never touches the food? Who has time to scour the bottom of their pots?

I have to admit, my first internal reaction to Tante Ursula’s advice as we said goodnight, and I retired to the guest room, was dismissive. Whatever she was trying to tell me about homemaking, philosophy, or morality seemed like an exercise in over-achievement, a recipe for nurturing obsessive compulsive disorder. Even for a newlywed yekke with little responsibility and a very small apartment.

Overnight, however, the idea stewed and simmered (sorry, couldn’t resist!) In shul, as I listened to the shofar blowing on that first day of the first Rosh Hashanah of my married life, I was preoccupied with Tante Ursula’s pots.

The shofar, the trumpet-like instrument made from a ram’s horn, is the main symbol of Rosh Hashanah. In fact, when the holiday is mentioned in the Torah, its name is “the time of the shofar blowing”, not “Rosh Hashanah”.

On Rosh Hashanah, we read the part of the Torah that describes Abraham’s binding of his son, Yitzchak, to be sacrificed at G-d’s command. First, G-d calls to Abraham. Abraham responds, “Hinneni” (“Here I am”) , the rest of the events of the Akieda proceed. Eventually the ram stuck by his horns in the thicket is discovered, and everyone (except the ram) lives either happily thereafter or not, depending on whose interpretation you prefer.

Similarly, the sound of the shofar heralded the events at Mount Sinai. Just before the Torah was revealed to us, as one nation, we said a plural parallel to “hinneni”, “Naaseh v’Nishma”, (“We will do and we will hear/understand.”)

This phrase, “Naaseh v’Nishma” represents Judaism’s focus on the value of behavior before belief. Belief, understanding, and faith are experienced as a result of action. Performing a good deed with imperfect motives is preferable to refraining from acting, waiting until the motives are pure. Ultimately, over time and through repetition, proper motives will come to accompany proper behavior.

What a relief that ones merits can accrue directly from actions, which are concrete and observable! How liberating to be free of the need to produce faith on demand, or to expect it of others. We, the nation of Israel, struggle with G-d. We are not judged by the current status of the struggle, but by our willingness to engage in it, and by our behaviour.

I have always taken refuge and found comfort in this approach, because the “naaseh” part is in my hands. I control how I behave. That second part, the “nishma” – the belief, the understanding, the faith – often eludes me. When asked about personal issues of faith, I’d respond, “I’m working on ‘naaseh’ for now.”

And that’s why Tante Ursula’s pots rattled me.

Does it matter if there is a mismatch between the spiritual level of one’s thoughts if one behaves well both in public and in private? Is it enough to concentrate energy on the outside and inside of the pots, neglecting the bottom? Can’t the bottom of the pot wait until later? How urgent is the status of the bottom of the pot?

A person could go a lifetime, never giving much thought to the condition of her pot bottoms. The kitchen would likely function well enough, wouldn’t it?

However, it is difficult to imagine someone who takes care to clean the bottoms of the pots, not having spotless pots overall. This is analogous to one whose spirituality doesn’t translate into good behavior. Such misguided values result in a meal we would not be eager to share.

Judaism’s behaviorist philosophy leads me to imagine that even someone who never intended to take care of the cooking parts of her pots, would experience an improvement in this area. Scouring the bottom of a pot makes it impossible to ignore the parts that touch food.

The private, ineffable, “non-functional” aspects of one’s spiritual life, like the bottoms of the soup pot, deserve the same diligent scrutiny and thoughtful attention as the outside. Tante Ursula’s subtle lesson struck me then, and has stayed with me since.

It is of the most religiously motivating ideas I’ve experienced.

While distance prevents us from spending Rosh Hashanah with them, we think of them often during the holidays (and throughout the year). And for me, particularly when faced with a sink full of Yom tov dishes to wash.

I wish Uncle David, Tante Ursula, their children and grandchildren, the readers of this blog, and all of Israel a chatima tova. May a year of health, happiness, prosperity and peace be sealed for all of us.

May we all have the time, energy, and inclination to clean even the bottoms of our pots.

A Mussaf of Inspiration

Posted on by — 2 Comments ↓

Before we share the final post of this year with you, we would like to take this opportunity to wish everybody a Kesiva V’Chasima Tova. May we all merit another fruitful year of learning, giving and growing together. – David & Mark

By R’ Mordechai Scher

Every year, without fail, the same memories are dominant in my mind during the month of Elul. As I wonder and worry, yet again, how will I possibly be ready and able to benefit most from the opportunity of Rosh HaShana, I return to the most moving public prayers I’ve known.

One such experience was in Tulkarem, an Arab-populated city in the northern Shomron, east of Netanya. I was a company medic and squad leader on reserve duty. It was the end of summer, and our compound (called the “michlaot”, animal pens) was dry, hot, and dusty. Our duties were unpleasant this time round; by day reinforcing the police in maintaining public order and enforcing curfews, at night hunting wanted terrorists in the surrounding villages and hills. I was one of the fortunate soldiers able to leave for Rosh HaShana. My family was visiting in the States, so I made the expected choice and remained in Tulkarem so that someone else could go home to his family. I chose this out of understood obligation. I didn’t want to do security patrols and worry about ambushes on Yom Tov (our battalion CO had been firebombed while on patrol in his jeep). I didn’t want to have my holiday meal in the heat, under camouflage nets. I didn’t want to pray in my fatigues, in the dust, with barely a minyan, precariously perched on folding benches.

We could be sure of a minyan only for morning services, since we were all needed on patrols throughout the day. Nonetheless, there were many yeshiva students in our neighbouring armoured battalion, and we got services organised. Ashkenazim and Sepharadim prayed together, as we had neither the numbers nor the facilities to fully accommodate both customs. We prayed the Shachrit service lead by an Ashkenazi, and the Mussaf service led by a Sepharadi. As long as I live, I do not expect to follow a more moving service than the Mussaf, that Rosh HaShana. I was awed and inspired then, and I am whenever I call up that experience in my heart.

The young man leading Mussaf was an infantry officer in the Golani division. He was of North African descent, from a religious upbringing, and clearly knew what he was doing. I can’t recall his name, despite my gratitude to him. His prayer exemplified so much of what I aspire to in reaching for communion with G-d.

His melodies were simple, straightforward. He had a pleasant voice, and his melodies drew their beauty from deep inside him, rather than some artificially added musical adornment. His prayer conveyed and inspired confidence and awe together. He prayed as a child, confident in Avinu, our Father in heaven. He prayed as one who was safe and secure in his Father’s presence, assured that his loving Father was close by, and that all would be as it should ultimately be. He knew that he was his Father’s child, a product of his Father’s loving act, and bearing within him a soul that is the expression, the inherited characteristic from that Father. Such faith, such comfort as he communicated, was beyond words.

Together with this confident love, was a tremendous, trembling awe. Even as he prayed, he seemed about to be dumbstruck by the wonder and concern. Was he truly going to live up to his Father’s gifts to him? He was so aware that his Father is no less Malkeinu, our King. The Divine mastery, absolute and evidenced in all the Creation, required an accounting of him. How could he stand before ultimate justice, knowing his mistakes and failures? How badly might he have betrayed the relationship and confidence his Father invested in him? What might the necessary consequences be, to set aright the Divine balance he must be part of, in G-d’s people, and G-d’s creation? He, and his congregation, are the King’s children. Yet how prepared were they to live with the King, to represent Him, as they stood before Him at the height of Rosh HaShana’s accounting and judgement. Did they really accept the King’s sovereignty, and did they really accept their place as His children? Was it a hutzpa, an unforgivable arrogance, to stand before the King, and maybe not truly acknowledge Him?

I do not know how long that prayer lasted. It seemed that we had been given a glimpse of eternity, and we did not want it to end. This young officer’s prayer was naive and honest. It spoke of faith, love, confidence, and unbelievable awe. It was complex, but it was not complicated. Each year I thank G-d for having been a part of the prayer of one who was tamim — wholly with his G-d. Each year I remember, and each year I pray that I should learn to pray.

The Path of a Bas Noach Baales Teshuva

Posted on by — 4 Comments ↓

By Alice Jonsson

Attempting to describe my turn towards Hashem and Torah, while being brief, is a challenge. Here’s my attempt.

Imagine a 10-story-tall catapult. But instead of a boulder the size of a VW bug, its cargo is you. Because this catapult has been cranked back slowly, each tooth clicking into place, for thirty-six years, the energy behind the launch is tremendous. You find yourself being rocketed through space, old grudges, all of the axes you were grinding, mountains that you were carrying on your shoulders are one by one falling away, making you lighter and lighter, increasing your velocity. Convinced this bizarre dream will end with a violent splat — or a human shaped hole in the middle of a field of corn with you at the bottom — you find yourself not rocketing but gently coasting at great altitude, experiencing true joy and relaxation. When it comes time to land, instead of racing towards the earth, your landing is more like a leaf flitting back and forth in the breeze, making a lazy descent towards the grassy field.

The field is a good place to end up, because that’s where you will do some great work. Despite the fact that you feel like a lunatic, albeit a gleeful one, you take the advice of a very wonderful rabbi half way around the globe and go for walks talking to the old corn stalks, ravens landing on power lines, and the grasshoppers that land on your sweater with a chirp way too loud to come from such a tiny creature. This is your synagogue and they are the congregation. There you can talk to the perfect God for you, even though this still strikes you as being totally bonkers, and amazing things begin to happen.

Of course this is a totally irrational and unscientific thing to do. But it works. Quickly. Even though you aren’t Jewish, this rabbi’s advice fits you like a custom made suit. You learn that you don’t need to be Jewish to believe in Judaism, and that there are seven laws just for you. Negative emotions that plagued you for decades dissolve, leaving you not your old self, but a person you never were. Lessons accumulated over millennia by Sages living near the Dead Sea, or deep in the woods of the Ukraine, guide you through grocery trips, dysfunctional family dinners, and help you to not lean on the horn in traffic jams.

Well, that’s how the journey began. Three years later, we live in the big city. The cornfields have been replaced with subways and burglar bars. It’s a good thing Hashem can be found anywhere because that all sounds a bit depressing, yet the tranquility found in those fields persists. We live near shuls and kollels, minyans and lunch and learns. And just like when we lived in the country, I read Jewish websites, listen to cds in my car and lectures on my MP3 player, anything to maintain the connection to God. Now that we’re in the city, Torah classes are part of my life as are a hodgepodge of fellow Torah believers: Western European Ashkenazi, Hassidim, Iranian Jews, Sephardim from Morocco, Sephardim from Mexico, Sephardim with lush Southern accents and plaid flannel kippas, soon-to-be Jews, thought-they-were-Jews, and even Gentiles-who-wish-they were Jews.

Where do Bnei Noach fit in? It’s clear that any newcomer to the world of Torah runs the risk of becoming overwhelmed by the labyrinth of traditions, commandments, communities, and politics, let alone a Gentile. But to my mind it doesn’t matter if you are a BT from a line of rabbis ten generations long or your dad’s a Methodist who married a beauty named Shoshanna. There are times you will feel in. And there are times you feel out. And when that ‘out’ feeling starts to wheedle its way in, I return to the cornfield, only this time it’s a broken sidewalk, and I’m pushing a red stroller ferrying a blonde two-year-old clutching a water bottle. Hashem is right there with me again to remind me that I am one member of an enormously complex congregation who know that the Torah is the blueprint. And that He is always there with me. And with you.

I recommend with great enthusiasm any of the cds by Rav Shalom Arush and Rabbi Lazer Brody available on Lazerbrody.typepad.com. And for a terrific, accessible approach to Torah techniques for coping with negative emotions, The Trail to Tranquility, by Rabbi Lazer Brody. Many of the techniques that have worked so well for me and for my family are described therein.

This piece was originally posted on Dixie Yid.

Ah it’s Elul…and Forgiveness is in the Air!

Posted on by — 37 Comments ↓

Rabbi Dovid Schwartz

The significance of this time of the year is that it corresponds to the 40 day period beginning on 1 Elul and culminating on 10 Tishrei (AKA Yom Kippur) when Moshe, ascending again to heaven, mounted the national T’shuva effort of K’lal Yisroel to atone for the sin of the Golden Calf.

At this writing we are more than halfway through this annual period of regret, remorse and reconciliation. In preparing myself both for the Days of Awe and for presenting my upcoming presentations at the Jewish Heritage Center I’ve been wrestling with some nettlesome questions about forgiveness that, although basic, are still (at least to me) quite unclear. I’d like to share some of these with you:

Our sages teach us that T’shuva motivated by fear /awe transforms (diminishes) premeditated sins into unintentional ones and that T’shuva motivated by love transforms premeditated sins to z’chuyos (something positive and meritorious). Is there a T’shuva that evokes more than the former but less than the latter i.e. that “wipes the record clean” and, if so, as awe and love seem to cover the entire possible gamut of motivations, what type of motivation to T’shuva is left that might evoke a Divine “wipes the record clean” response?

We also know that we needn’t be more saintly than G-d. A plank in our theological platform is that G-d, though infinitely forgiving and merciful, is not a vatran, one who unilaterally absolves debts without cause nor being asked. Yet we routinely recite a prayer before the bedtime Sh’ma and before Kol Nidreh (T’filas zakah) in which we extend forgiveness to those who have slighted or hurt us without them even having apologized. How can we be (apparently) more forgiving than G-d?

Can humans forgive AND forget or is forgiving and remembering sufficient? Can interpersonal T’shuva be motivated by anything other than love? (I speak of T’shuva for sins committed against peers not those committed against parents and/ or Talmidei Khakohmim). If so, is it possible for mere human beings to aspire to an imitatio dei http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imitatio_dei
approximation transforming premeditated sins to something positive and meritorious?

When asking/ begging forgiveness should we aspire to achieve a level of “forgiven but not forgotten” or to achieve a level of “forgotten”, or, even transforming premeditated sins to something positive?

Are interpersonal mitzvahs (bein odom l’khaveiro) really a separate and distinct category (intuitively I know that they are) or are they just another form of bein Odom l’mokom (between persons and G-d)?

Allow me to flesh out my conundrum; There is a halakha in the laws of honoring parents that states that one must honor a step-parent (in a parental kind of way) but only during the lifetime of the biological parent. Once the biological parent passes away no special honor, love, awe or respect need be given to the step-parent above and beyond that of other Jews (all hakoras hatov=gratitude obligations being equal). The legal theory behind this is obvious. The extraordinary honor due a step parent is only an adjunct of the extraordinary honor due a biological parent. It is presumed that the biological parent wants the child to accord extraordinary honor to the step-parent. Absent the will of the biological parent there is no compelling reason to treat the step-parent differently than anyone else.

So, to reiterate my question, do we have and fulfill interpersonal mitzvahs because the other person’s Jewishness or humanity demands as much? Or because G-d’s will is that we do so? To say the former is to skirt dangerously close to secular humanism while to affirm the latter is to diminish “loving ones fellow” to the same moral plane as the mitzvos that demand ethical treatment of animals and plants.

Just some food for Elul thought.

Note: Rabbi Schwartz is giving a series on Gaining and Granting Forgiveness at the Jewish Heritage Center, beginning on Wednesday, Sept 5th at 8:00 PM at the JHC – 68-29 Main Street Flushing. Classes will also be held on Sept 10th, 17th and 24th. Admission is free with an RSVP to 1-888-4Judaism (458-3427) or email series@thejhc.com and $5 at the door.

Showing Sensitivity to Intermarried BTs

Posted on by — 35 Comments ↓

Rabbi Mordechai Scher of Kol BeRamah in Santa Fe post this comment in the recent intermarriage thread:

In much of this thread, there has been a lack of recognition displayed of the complexities at the level of the individual home, and sympathy for their plight. I absolutely *do not* argue with the basic premise that intermarriage is not only forbidden, but possibly far more harmful to us than other forbidden phenomena.

Nevertheless, over the years that I have spoken with rabbanim/poskim about these issues on a *practical* level, seeking paths to deal with real families in real communities, I have been tortured by the pain this issue creates for them. Moreover, all the rabbanim I worked with were pained by the difficulties facing these families in fixing the situation. I have seen grown men cry over this more than once. That pain is evident in writing as well; even in responsa from way back to Rav Eliyahu Guttmacher, or Rav Leifland (author of Gerim V’gerut, posek in Russia and later in the US). Whereas a ‘tough’ approach was appropriate in some communities in some times; this is not universally the case. Rav Leifland writes how he blames himself for an intermarriage continuing because he was tougher (in retrospect) about a conversion than maybe he needed to be.

Like any halachic issue, ultimate judgement and application is on a case by case basis. I am not advocating a touchy feely, let’s all just get along view. I am suggesting that rabbanim who shoulder the responsibility for such dealings tend to invest a lot of effort in understanding a family’s difficulties, and in seeking (not always finding) solutions for them.

Already 20 years ago, I sat in a shiur from Rav Gedaliah Rabinowitz, who questioned if some of Rav Moshe Feinstein’s decisions on these issues would still apply. He noted that it was indeed relevant to consider circumstances, time, and place. He noted how rabbanim like Rav David Tzvi Hoffman (M’lamed L’hoil) took differently nuanced approaches to the same issues, probably influenced by the atmosphere and environment they were working in. One could certainly argue that rabbanim like Rav Uziel took different approaches also because they honestly saw things a bit differently.

Maybe I am so disturbed because I have worked up close with successes and failures in helping families already confronted with the dilemma. Yes, we must prevent intermarriage. Yes, intermarriage is really a symptom of a lack of Torah. But for those families discovering Torah already after the fact, we had better be loving and patient and looking for every *legitimate* way to encourage and help them make a change.

That attitude was missing in much of this thread, and I am genuinely surprised at us. We, of all Jews, should know better. That’s why when Joshua Sachs posted here much earlier on, I was so disappointed that hardly anyone displayed any concern or sympathy over his plight. This isn’t just about being right in the argument or convincing someone; this is about caring enough about Jews with a most difficult plight to show them love and concern and encouragement.

Looking for the Signal

Posted on by — 2 Comments ↓

By: Gregg Schwartz

I figured out something recently that I would love to share with anyone who rides the subway. LOOK AT THE TRACKS!!!

Sometimes when I arrive at the subway station, I get real lucky and the train is right there waiting for me, it’s doors wide open just asking me to board. On most occasions though, the train is not waiting for me. Rather, there is train congestion and this happens to be the place its signal told it to stop.

Before I dare to enter the train, I look straight ahead. Anyone can see the signals ahead if only they make an effort to look ahead. A red signal tells the train to stay put, and an orange signal tells the train to get ready to move and it is quickly followed by the green signal. One of my favorite things to do is to stand next to the train with one eye on the signal and the other in the train.

You will see people heading up or down the stairs (depending on the station), and their eyes brighten up. Could it possibly be? A train waiting there just for me? Their eyes widen and they go full speed ahead making sure those doors don’t slam before they get in. They will trample anyone in their way. One by one, the train becomes filled with huffers and puffers; and suddenly their agitation sets in, “move already!!!”.

While we don’t always “see” signals that lead us in the right path, G-d does give us instincts to know right from wrong, and life directions that feel right or wrong. They are there, we just need to look for them. It will save us a lot of huffing and puffing.

Teshuvah, Marriage, and Revelations of the “Past”

Posted on by — 26 Comments ↓

By “Michael”

My wife and I are both ba’alei teshuvah, although I grew up in a religious environment and she comes from a secular background. We made the decision to get married based on a brief, romantic, and miraculous period of very “frum” dating. We were both mutually inspired by and committed to what we saw as a true opportunity from Hashem to rebuild our lives together. Marriage has certainly had its inspired and beautiful moments, and of course still offers its luminous potential to give both of us the opportunity to raise a Jewish family (iy”H) that we so desired. We both continue to feel that we are meant for each other and that this marriage is in fact a gift from above. However, there has been this one issue which has from the beginning threatened to derail us, and I was hoping that others might comment on this from their own experiences. It is the issue of the past, and in particular its role in our life together.

While I was dating my current wife and throughout our engagement, I was never counseled by any of my religious advisers to inquire too much about my wife’s past. I allowed myself to internalize the idea that her past was irrelevant, and all the more so if I wanted to be able to put my own mistakes behind me. Yet two important factors made that all but impossible: I am an extremely curious person and my wife, G-d bless her, is the proud owner of a big mouth. This combination of her “slips” and my curiosity has led to the revelation of a host of unpleasant discoveries about her life (the details of which are of course not relevant here) which, although she has solidly put them behind her, threaten to erode my level of respect for her as a person and comfort with her in this marriage. To further complicate things, I neither want this to be the case nor do I feel the “right” to be bothered by the past, yet the feeling just seems to come up in all kinds of situations whether I want it to be there or not, the feeling that there is something unsavory about this person who I love and am committed to. I spend a great deal of my emotional and intellectual resources trying to overcome this feeling of revulsion or antipathy, convincing myself that teshuvah renders all these things irrelevant, that people change, that my own past has been less than stellar… but the underlying feelings persist. For a time I resented her (and the Rabbis and counselors who advised us before our marriage) for the fact that I couldn’t make an “informed” decision before we got married. But I have come to accept and understand that we are soulmates and that if any of these revelations were made before marriage they probably would have given me second thoughts and if not prevented the marriage altogether, at least distorted my frame of mind and not allowed me to enjoy it.

So here we are, married and with a kid iy”H on the way, and I am more or less stuck in this limbo state, accepting on an intellectual and religious level that my wife as a ba’alat teshuvah is not the container of her past experiences, but on a psychological and emotional level being mostly unable to deal with them. I am trying to find coping strategies that will work for us because I do not want these issues to be present between us once our children iy”H are in the world. I want to be able to see my wife solely as they will see her, as a proud, intelligent, committed, and beautiful frum wife and mother, and as nothing besides.

I’m writing this in public (anonymously, of course) because I can only imagine that there must be other ba’alei teshuvah struggling with these issues of the proper understanding of the past, whether one’s own or that of someone close to them and especially as it relates to marriage and the need to get on with our work down here in this world and not be chased down by ideas or images from long ago. I hope that this will lead to an honest and productive discussion. B’vracha..

Reasons To Practice as a Jew

Posted on by — 5 Comments ↓

R’ Gil Student recently pointed to Dennis Prager, writing in Moment magazine about reasons to practice as a Jew. (link) Although many may have seen it, we thought it merited a post here:

1. The Jews are the Chosen People. There is no other rational explanation for the centrality of the Jewish people in history and in the world today. Even anti-Semites—indeed, especially anti-Semites— recognize the pivotal role of this tiny group of people on the world stage. That is why “world Jewish conspiracy” is such a common phrase, while one never hears of “a world Chinese conspiracy” or any other group’s “world conspiracy.” If we are not the Chosen People, there is little compelling reason to raise one’s children as Jews. After Auschwitz, and with significant parts of the Muslim world today advocating another Holocaust, it takes a powerful reason to do so.

2. Just as people need an instruction manual for a camera, they need an instruction manual on how to lead a good, holy and meaningful life. Judaism provides the best one ever written: the Torah.

3. The Torah is a divine document. No book comes close in influencing the world and changing the way human beings behave and think. “Divine” means that God is, ultimately, the Torah’s author. Whether it was given all at once, whether it was dictated word for word, whether it was divinely edited from documents—none of that matters.

4. Understood properly and lived authentically, Judaism is a religion of moderation. Judaism’s approach to animals, for example, teaches reverence for them to the point of including a day of rest for them in the Ten Commandments. Yet it also teaches that human life is infinitely more valuable: humans, not animals, are created in the image of God.

5. Judaism provides immense joy. No religion provides such continuous joy-filled moments as Judaism. I am referring to the weekly celebration of Shabbat and the frequent holidays. Every week I look forward to Shabbat in a way unknowable to non-Jews or Jews who do not celebrate the Sabbath.

6. Judaism provides meaning. What could be more meaningful than being chosen by God to bring humanity to Him and His moral values? Meaning is the greatest human need, even greater than sex. There are people who live without sex and yet lead happy lives. But no person who lives without meaning has a happy life.

7. Judaism provides community. Whether on Shabbat or on holidays, whether in joy—the birth of a child, a wedding—or in crisis or mourning, our religion does not allow us to be alone.

8. Judaism is uniquely preoccupied with good and evil. I have the utmost respect for Christians as the people who made America the greatest country in world history. But their religions are concerned mainly with faith and salvation, and Islam is focused on submission to Allah. Both groups theologically divide the world into the faithful—“dar al-Islam” in Islam and the “saved” in Christianity—and the unfaithful. Judaism, by contrast, divides the world according to moral categories: those who do good and those who do evil. Thus, as the Torah tells us, “the good of all the nations have a portion in the world to come.”

9. Judaism is concerned with the present world. Though Judaism absolutely affirms the afterlife (it is axiomatic that if there is a just God, there is an afterlife), the Hebrew Bible says nothing about what happens to us after death. The moment religion dabbles in the afterlife, it begins to ignore the evils of this life and can even foment evil. The theology of Muslim terrorists and their supporters, for example, rests on a preoccupation with heavenly rewards and a consequent disdain for this life. As Hamas frequently says, “We love death as much as the Jews love life.”

10. Judaism allows, even encourages, a Jew to argue with God. The very name of the Jewish people, “Israel,” means “wrestle with God;” the word “Islam,” to provide a counter example, means “submission” (to God).

Rabbi Yitz Greenman on Integrating into the Frum Community

Posted on by — 38 Comments ↓

At the Beyond BT Shabbaton in Passaic, Rabbi Yitz Greenman – Executive Director of Aish NY and Producer of Inspired Films gave a shiur on the topic of “Integrating into the Frum Community”.

Rabbi Greenman started off by giving two scenarios both of which he thought were unhealthy:
1) Feeling that you always have to hide being a BT
2) Advertising you are a BT and associating only with other BTs

He felt that a person should find a community where (s)he would associate with people who weren’t BTs and at the same time the person won’t feel that (s)he needs to hide the fact that (s)he is a BT.

After presenting the above position, the floor was opened to questions and a lively discussion ensued.

Many people in attendance felt that the reason that people hide being a BT is because people are judgmental about BTs. Rabbi Greenman was not sure that judgmentalism was the cause and thought that perhaps people sometimes feel that they are being judged, even when they aren’t being judged.

Many thanks to Rabbi Greenman for opening his home to us and taking the time to share his thoughts and to lead a discussion on this issue.

Giving Up Treif Food with Unexpected Ease

Posted on by — 14 Comments ↓

By Larry Lennhoff

For years before I began my journey I was a non-observant bachelor living in Boston. One of my hobbies was eating out. I didn’t like to cook, and had no relatives or other people with whom to share meals, so I ate out a LOT. My definition of dining in (which I rarely did) was to get to-go food from some restaurant and bring it home.

20 years of this and you build up quite a repertoire of restaurants. There were literally dozens of restaurants where I could go and recognize and be recognized by the wait staff. If my friends wanted to know where to go for Mongolian-Thai fusion cooking, I was recognized as the authority. If you asked me for directions, you were likely to get a response in the form ‘Go down Cambridge street until a block past Colleen’s, then turn left at the Pu Pu Hot Pot and continue until you reach the light with the J.P. Lick’s on the corner….

This continued to a lessened extent even when after I met my wife. We soon started becoming more observant. One place she stayed well ahead of me was keeping kosher outside the home. I wasn’t sure I could ever give it up completely. Lose the ever growing, ever shifting panoply of exotic foreign foods for metro Boston’s meager selection of half a dozen kosher restaurants? With the majority those located 45 minutes away by car?

Finally a day came when I unexpected had to make the plunge. No last grand farewell tour, no lingering over a final selection of my favorite dishes, not even a chance to order my one-of-a-kind specialty sandwich from Flossie at the local Friendly’s. I was instantly going full kosher outside the house, if you will excuse the expression, cold turkey. 20 years plus of investing myself in the metro Boston restaurant scene, gone in an instant.

It was easy. I was stunned – since that day I have never eaten non-kosher food at a treife restaurant. I feel pangs of nostalgia, but I’ve never even been seriously tempted to go back and try one last kung pao chi ding.

Here is the takeaway lesson I learned. How many other flaws and habits that I think are a basic part of who I am could I break if I only went out and tried? We all know Hashem gave us free will, and we all know the strength of the Yetzer Harah, but I think we sometime forget that we have a Yetzer Hatov as well. If you are just are willing to trust it and take the plunge, you too may be surprised at just how easy it is.

Tears and Torah for Tisha B’Av

Posted on by — 1 Comment ↓

My soul shall weep in secrecy for you pride (Jeremiah 13:17).

This teaches that G-d has a concealed place called “Mistarem” (secrecy), where He weeps over the pride of Israel that was stripped from them and given to the nations of the World. Some say G-d weeps over the Divine glory which has been concealed from this world.

But how can we say G-d weeps, are we not told that strength and rejoicing are His Presence? (Chronicles I 16:27).

No, this is not a contradiction! On the inside (in secret) G-d weeps; in the outside, He appears to rejoice (Chagigiah 5b).

The Maharal explains that the location of G-d’s secret hideaway is within the soul of every Jew and that the fundamental soul of man cries constantly over the Destruction of the Temple. The average person is not in touch with his inner soul, with his real self, so he is oblivious to this weeping. The average person is aware only of his external facade where everything appears to be fine and growing better with – abundant strength and rejoicing. (From the Art Scroll Tisha B’Av Service.

Many of us have trouble with tears on Tisha B’Av. Rabbi Dovid Schwartz has provided us with an mp3 file, where he goes through many of the kinnos of Tisha B’Av in order to give us a deeper understanding and help us get closer to the tears needed for redemption.

The audio file can be listened to on Tisha B’Av since a person is allowed to learn explanations of the Kinnos, even though there is a general prohibition against learning Torah on this day. If one is able, it’s probably best to prepare before hand and listen to the audio this week.

Rabbi Shaya Karlinsky on Showing People a Proper Path

Posted on by — 6 Comments ↓

Rabbi Shaya Karlinsky, Dean of Darche Noam was kind enough to share these words of wisdom with us in the comment section of this post on Kiruv.

Menachem Lipkin referred me to this wonderful blog. And with over thirty years of experience in teaching Torah to ba’alei tshuvah, I would like to make some comments on this most important thread.

The Rambam teaches (Hilchot Talmud Torah, Ch. 5, Halacha 4): And any student who has not reached the level to instruct, and instructs, is an evildoer, a fool and an arrogant person. About him it is written “She has felled many victims” (Mishlei 7:26). Similarly, a scholar who has reached the level to instruct and does not instruct, is withholding Torah, placing stumbling blocks before the blind, and about him it is written (ibid) “Those killed are numerous.” Those small (unqualified) students who have not increased their Torah knowledge appropriately, and who seek to elevate themselves in front of those who are ignorant and their neighbors, and they jump to sit at the head to judge and to instruct among Jews – they are those who increase conflict and disputes, they destroy the world, they extinguish the light of Torah, and the terrorize damage the vineyard of the Hashem, Lord of Legions. About them King Solomon, in his wisdom, wrote: “The foxes have seized us, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards” (Shir Hashirim 2:15).

It is not coincidental in the Rambam that those who are not qualified choose to teach those who themselves are ignorant – knowledgeable Jews would never accept them as teachers of Torah. From this Rambam it is clear that there IS a downside to sending out unqualified people to spread Torah to other Jews.

While Outreach organizations are justifiably proud of their statistics on how many people that have become obersvant because of their efforts, what doesn’t show up are all the Jews that are “turned off” by what they hear, sensing it is not authentic, it doesn’t make sense, or the person presenting it isn’t interested in the individual as a person, but rather as another “notch in the kiruv belt.” These people don’t show up in the statistics because they usually don’t fill out the feedback forms at the end of a seminar or program — they just walk out, frequently muttering that they don’t want to have anything to do with this. The other statistic that doesn’t show up is the number of people who are “success stories” for a while, then a couple/few years in, drop it (hopefully before they are married with children).

There is a very important comment of the Vilna Gaon on the following verses in Mishlei (Ch. 19, V. 2-3). “Also, without knowledge, it is not good for the soul; and one who rushes his legs is a sinner. The foolishness of a man perverts his path, and his heart angers against G-d.”

The Vilna Gaon comments on the first part of verse 2 that just as a person who eats large quantities of enjoyable delicacies will still be undernourished and feel hungry if he doesn’t eat the staples, a person who does Mitzvoth but doesn’t study Torah finds that his soul will not be “good”, nourished. On the second half of the verse, the Gaon teaches that “legs” refer to a person’s character traits, his habits (from the word “hergel” which has the root “regel”). But these traits must be improved step-by-step, through steady, slow progress, the way one climbs a ladder. “Rushing the legs” refers to a person who jumps to a level that is not really appropriate for him, which causes him to miss the mark (“choteh”) and he will surely fall.

On the second verse, the Gaon explains: We are taught that a person who comes to be purified merits Divine assistance (TB Shabbat 104a). Sometimes a person begins to study Torah and perform Mitzvoth, and then abandons it because it is too difficult from him. He didn’t get the desired assistance from Above, and he is angry at G-d for not providing it. But the truth is that this was the result of his own foolishness. Every person is required to go in a way which is aligned with his own level, and not jump. This will enable the person to move in a stable way, and assistance from Above will facilitate that movement. But the described person didn’t begin down his OWN path, therefore he didn’t receive assistance. Because the path he pursued was chosen foolishly, without proper thought and contemplation, his path was distorted, he failed and he then gets angry at G-d.

I think the Vilna Gaon’s commentary serve as a powerful lesson for all Jews, but for Ba’alei Tshuvah in particular. It is almost as if he was directing his comments to Ba’alei Tshuvah, when he describes the person who “begins to study Torah and perform Mitzvoth.” Mitzvah observance that isn’t accompanied with Torah study as a foundation will lead to a sense of “hunger.” And one’s path must be appropriate for him or her, chosen with careful thought, then pursued slowly and steadily.

My experience is that when these principles are followed, a stable and healthy tshuva process is the result. When they are violated…

Metamorphasis of a Teenage Punk

Posted on by — 1 Comment ↓

Sometime back Ezzie sent us this post from a frequent guest contributor to his site. I believe the post was also up for a JIB Award.

By Pobodys Nerfect
The following is an essay that I wrote for English class, on the topic, “Growing Up.” Enjoy.

Many people have a hard time digesting the following information about my past, but I guarantee it is no jest. Despite my current appearance as a happy, religious, and overall normal young adult, my turbulent teenage years saw me as an angry and rebellious punk. For some, the most shocking aspect of my transformation is that I speak about it readily; they expect a closed attitude of, “Let history remain history and move on.” However, I feel differently. Though my past may conjure up some unpleasant memories, I have made a conscious decision to learn from my experiences and use the lessons to better my present and my future.

During my early high-school years, I hated everything Judaism represented, mostly because it had been misrepresented to me. Many teachers refused to acknowledge my questions on the existence of G-d or explain the traditions we were being instructed to practice. My persistence in questioning eventually rewarded me with answers, and I am ever thankful to the patient few who guided me in the proper direction. The truly influential people in my life were the ones who never forced their beliefs on me, allowing me to instead come to my own realizations. What affected me perhaps the most was that I saw my mentors apply the principles they were teaching into their own lives. I anticipate the day when I can use the knowledge and insights I gained through my journey to help others who are seeking the truth.

The change in my attitude towards Judaism brought about a change in my outer appearance as well. My wardrobe back then was very black- right down to my nail polish and spiked leather bracelet. Like most teenagers, I was expressing myself through clothing. My goal was to convey to the world that I was displeased with everything life had to offer. Since my spiritual metamorphosis, my closet has also morphed into a more conservative, button-down blouse and kick-pleated skirt style. Due to my drastic change, I that people would be changing their mental judgments of me. This brought me to the realization that dressing as an observant Jew is a responsibility. My future actions would be stereotyped as typical of Orthodox Jewry, whether that became my objective or not. It is my hope that I can accurately represent my people and my faith before a judging world.

Perhaps the most important discovery I made as a teenager was about the true path to happiness. I spent much of my punk stage miserable that my life wasn’t perfect. I blamed my unhappiness on the dysfunctions of my family and on my own character flaws. What I didn’t realize was that I was bringing about my own sadness; I was not allowing myself to become happy. Happiness requires constant effort and self-control to keep from thinking depressing thoughts. That might be to be a lifetime battle, but I am confident I will succeed.

To quote the character Rafiki from Disney’s The Lion King, “Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it, or learn from it.” My experiences as a teenage punk helped form the person I am today. The journey is not over, but I hope to take the lessons I’ve acquired with me as I struggle to soar higher.

Rebbetzin Tziporah Heller – Some Brief Thoughts & Finding Inspiration From Within – mp3

Posted on by — 37 Comments ↓

Mark and his family had the good fortune of having lunch with Rebbetzin Tziporah Heller on Monday during the Kew Garden Hills stop of her Spring visit to the States. As you know, Rebbetzin Heller has been working with Baalei Teshuva for many years and she is much sought after for her sage advice. Here are some of the thoughts she shared.

Integration

Rebbetzin Heller feels it is important that Baalei Teshuva integrate into their communities. There is no benefit in retaining that which no longer serves you. She compared it to a foreigner learning the language and customs of the place they currently live for their own benefit. This does not mean hiding the fact that you are a Baalei Teshuva or cutting off parts of yourself, it means trying to understand and adapt to your community.

Parenting 

Reb. Heller feels that one area that Baalei Teshuva could use help in is parenting. Many times, BTs are too stringent with their children and other times they are much too lenient. Parenting involves many grey areas and one must deal with each child and each situation differently. It’s also important not to try and make your children be the frum from birth success that you could never be as a BT.

Shidduchim 

Rebbetzin Heller feels that there definitely is a Shidduch Crisis. She does not feel that the situation is worse for BTs because they are usually willing to consider a wider range of people. She said that she has seen success on the SawYouAtSinai.com dating site which combines Shadchanim with a web based database. It is also important for BTs to try to find  advocates to help them find an appropriate match.

Here is a shiur, Reb. Heller gave Monday night at Congregation Ahavas Yisroel titled Finding Inspiration From Within.

The Great Fruity Pebbles Fiasco

Posted on by — 5 Comments ↓

By Chaya Linn

Act I –

I’m doing laundry, the day before Pesach.
Kim’s got stupid songs playing,
Take me home, country road…
Sorry about that.
Now you’re humming it, aren’t you?
She likes it, though.
She’s dancing all around as she folds laundry.

Act II

I lost it totally tonight.
I leave for one hour to do a massage with Devorah,
I come home.
The chametz has broken out.
My son is eating life cereal at the table
An entire box of Fruity Pebbles is spilled in the pantry.
And then someone (I won’t say who)
Kicks a bag of flour,
A fine layer of chumutz dust
On everything.
My husband starts announcing
That our home will not be
Kosher for Pesach
And therefore we will not be eating any meal
In our kitchen for the entire Pesach.
And me going,
Chaim, you will kosher my kitchen back to Pesach
Right Now.
And he did.
Until one in the morning.
I make it as miserable as I possibly can for him-
Saying over and over maybe 40 times:
Are we clear, now?
There is no more chumutz, ok?
So no more sneaking around looking
For a sugar fix, right? Ok?
Right? Do we have that straight?
Good, then it’s clear now.
Then I repeat the whole thing.
I had my husband climbing the walls to get away from me.
Sorry, but that’s what I did.

Act III

Man, you really crave something crunchy
Those few days before Pesach.

Life Lessons from Our Jet Blue Flight

Posted on by — 4 Comments ↓

Rabbi Yitzchok Fingerer

My wife and I were recently invited to Los Angeles. We were very excited because this would be my first opportunity to present my new book on the West Coast. On February 14th, Valentines Day morning, we boarded a Jet Blue red-eye flight destined for Burbank, California.

Our flight, apparently, wasn’t meant to be. We ended up trapped on the tarmac at JFK airport for a total of fourteen hours. As the hours wore on, fear and anxiety grew, as problem after problem arose. Several hours into our ordeal, the air conditioning system failed. It was so suffocating that the pilot had to open the emergency doors in order to give us much needed oxygen. Throughout our torment, a wonderful distraction for many of the passengers was television. At one point, a power outage caused the television service to be temporarily suspended. Passengers sat, as virtual hostages, with absolutely nothing to do. Luckily, the television service was soon restored. As we approached the eighth hour, the pilot announced that we can no longer avail ourselves of the restrooms as the waste capacity was filled. A bit later we were told that the ubiquitous Jet Blue potato chips were finished and the famished passengers faced the new reality that they may starve. As hour ten drew near we were casually informed that there were no more beverages available. Visions of 150 passengers dying of dehydration permeated the airplane.

As the product of good Jewish mothers, my wife and I packed a lot of food. This came in handy as we were able to share some of our provisions with other, less fortunate passengers. But even our food supply soon diminished and things appeared rather bleak.

A neighboring plane experienced a diabetic medical emergency and was sent rescue vehicles. We were fortunate that our plane was allotted one of those rescue busses and after almost eleven grueling hours we were rescued (ironically we were almost immediately placed on a second flight, on which we sat an additional almost four hours, after which the flight was finally cancelled).

Something about this harrowing experience struck me and two weeks later still resonates with me. Despite the horrible ordeal, the passengers on board remained calm, disciplined, and respectful. Not one person, at least those within my earshot, uttered a single vulgarity. Remarkable! Why wasn’t there total pandemonium on the plane? Why didn’t people go berserk? Why wasn’t there a coup d’état? Even for the most noble and extraordinary of individuals this was exceptional behavior.

The answer is rather simple. Every passenger on board, including myself, had the expectation that we were going to get to Burbank. Our anticipation was that things would, ultimately, work out and we would, eventually, arrive at our destination. Our long-term dream of arriving in Burbank totally ameliorated our short-term discomfort.

Let us picture a different scenario: The pilot announces in the very beginning of the flight, “Ladies and gentlemen welcome abroad! I would like to inform you of the fact that you will be trapped on this wonderful plane for the next ten and a half hours and will suffer severe distress. You will then disembark from the plane and return to lovely New York. We hope you enjoy your Jet Blue experience.” How would the passengers have reacted? I guarantee that there would have been complete mayhem on the plane. Why? The scenario seems so similar. What changed?

People can tolerate and cope with imposition, challenge, and even suffering if they feel there is an ultimate, if they feel there is a destination. Despair and recklessness sets in when there is no expectation; when a situation is viewed as the be all and end all.

Life is a test. We are being tested to see how we respond to challenge, temptation, confrontation, etc. If we were just inert, lifeless beings like sticks and stones we would have no struggles or tests. Sticks and stones that will eventually decay and rot would not react well to suffering. If human beings are only a composite of flesh and bones, if our only future is to putrefy and decompose, then we wouldn’t be exposed to suffering.

We experience challenge because we are really souls that are here for a limited time on Earth to make strides for ourselves and humanity. Just like an astronaut is placed in a special space suit and sent to space for a limited time to collect data and make a contribution to space studies, so are we placed in a physical body and sent to Earth, for a limited life span, to accomplish great things. We are here in this world, not only to engage in perfecting the world, but also to become perfected. How do you perfect and refine things? Knives are forged through steel, ovens are reinforced by fire. We humans are fortified, strengthened, and perfected through challenge.

Sometimes we lose sight of who we really are. We think of ourselves in a lowly state and equate ourselves as just bodies. We become obsessed with the material things in life and forget about the things that really last. We get transfixed on the physical and forget the spiritual. Physical suffering is an unfortunate necessity to remind us who we really are.

This concept reminds me of the parable offered by the Chafetz Chaim of a sailor (not a pilot!) who became shipwrecked on an island. He was left naked and bare. The people of the island quickly robed him in splendid garments and took him to a palace. He was treated royally. Whatever he desired, he received. He amassed a fortune of jewels and money.

Finally, some three months later, he began to wonder why he was receiving such royal treatment. He decided to entrust his query to a royal advisor.

The advisor answered, “Really, you are the first person to be shipwrecked on our island who has asked this question. Everyone else figured, ‘Why make trouble and start asking questions? Enjoy and be merry!’ Officially, I am forbidden to divulge the answer to you. But we will keep it a secret. Every year we find somebody who was washed ashore from a shipwreck. He arrives, like you did, naked and empty-handed. We treat him royally for one year. As soon as twelve months are up, we take him back to the seashore, disrobe him, and send him back the way he arrived. All the wealth and jewels that he amassed stay behind. If I were you, I would take all the wealth that is being showered upon you and secretly send it away on different boats for storage when your year is up. This way, when you leave the island, you will leave laden with fortune.”

The lesson from this story is clear. When a person is born into this world, he arrives stark naked. Oddly, he is taken to a home and cuddled and loved, robed and fed. He is treated first-class. He is given every opportunity to amass fortunes. Does he ever stop to ask, “Why? Why am I getting such special treatment? What is the ultimate point to this all?” One day, maybe even abruptly, he is taken from this world and must leave everything behind. If you spend your life accumulating money and possessions, or indulging your body, then when the end comes there is nothing to show. If, on the other hand, we spend our lives caring and sharing, and searching for meaning, then we depart this world with great fortune.

Throughout life we are confronted by so many different tests. How do we react to these tests? Well, it all boils down to whether we are stick and stones or human passengers on the plane called life. When a stick or stone is tossed around it develops indelible marks and scrapes. The stick or stone can never learn or grow from its experience. Things will never change. When a human being confronts challenge or suffering he/she has the opportunity to learn and grow, becoming a more resilient and far greater passenger on this trip called life.

Rabbi Fingerer is a rav at Aish HaTorah on the Upper West Side of Manhattan and is president of The Think and Care Tank, a non-partisan public policy think tank dedicated to addressing the crisis of assimilation (www.thinkandcaretank.org).

Who’s Cleaning for Pesach?

Posted on by — 14 Comments ↓

Special thanks to Rabbi Rosenblum for permitting us to publish this piece. In fact he recently became aware of Beyond BT after Yaakov Astor’s recent post on Divorce and BT.

by Jonathan Rosenblum, Yated Ne’eman, March 21, 2007

My wife has decamped for Poland with a group of seminary students. And my only daughter is busy cleaning her own home for Pesach in Bnei Brak. That leaves only us guys to take care of the last heavy cleaning.

The absence of female hands on deck means that this year I won’t have to listen to the results of surveys in my sons’ yeshivos showing that no good yeshiva bochur has any cleaning responsibilities prior to Pesach. No need to threaten to deduct any money spent on mercenaries from that available to replace shiny suits, misshapen hats, and shoes with holes in them.

Yet I have heard enough anecdotal evidence over the years to know that the informal surveys cited above are not entirely a figment of my sons’ overactive imaginations. And that is too bad.

One can certainly understand how a parent’s heart swells with pride at the sight of a bochur who at the end of a long winter zman still wants nothing more than to put in a full day in the beis medrash. Yet parents would still be well advised to avoid freeing their sons from all Pesach cleaning responsibilities on that account.

Bein hazemanim, as the term implies, is not simply a continuation of the zman in a different setting. Rather it is a time for a different type of growth than can be achieved in the yeshiva. I heard recently from Rav Reuven Leuchter, one of the closest talmidim of the famed Mashgiach Rav Shlomo Wolbe, that bein hazemanim is a time for a type of interaction with the world that cannot take place hunched over one’s Gemara. As the Steipler Gaon used to say, it is hard to even assess a bochur’s middos while he is in yeshivah. After all, did his shtender ever speak back to him or express a contrary opinion?

Talmudic prodigies exist. But there is a certain type of wisdom that only comes with age and life experience, no matter how brilliant a person may be. That is why the leaders of the Torah world are inevitably drawn from the ranks of the ziknei hador. If the first adjective still used to describe a person is ilui, he is probably not yet ready for leadership. Bein hazemanim is the time for acquiring some of the experience of interacting with the world that is crucial for the development of middos and self-knowledge.

The second major reason not to grant draft exemptions from Pesach cleaning is that it fosters a sense of entitlement that can work against true striving in Torah. Contrary to the common impression among yeshiva bochurim, limud Torah is not a general exemption from all responsibilities in life. As one who was zocheh to learn in kollel for nearly 15 years, I view the expansion of kollel learning as the glory of our generation. But nothing will ever come from one who views yeshivah or kollel as life with an E-Z Pass.

One who accepts upon himself the yoke of Torah will, as the Mishnah in Avos (3:6) teaches us, find the yoke of derech eretz lifted from him. That is both a result of the siyata d’Shmaya that he merits and a natural response to his diminished involvement in the material world: the less concerned he is with material objects the less the burden of their attainment weighs upon him.

But acceptance of the yoke of Torah must come first. One does not demand that one be freed from responsibilities in order that one can learn. Nor does the yoke of Torah provide one with a right to demand from others that they take on one’s responsibilities. One of Eretz Yisrael’s leading young poskim was asked why his shul only sponsors a bein hazemanim yeshiva in the morning. He replied that bochurim also have to share in Pesach cleaning. The obligation to clean falls on all members of the house not just the women.

More and more, especially in shidduchim, we hear the attitude expressed that a ben Torah is entitled to be spared all life’s worries and to be able to live in comfort in order that he can learn in peace. Such an expectation is both unrealistic and dangerous. It is impossible to protect oneself from all worries: illness strikes, fathers-in-laws’ businesses go bankrupt, wives who undertook the burden of parnassah find that they are no longer physically or emotionally capable of doing so six children later, or that the children are suffering from having a permanently drained and part-time mother.

The quest for comfort can be inimical to spiritual growth in general and to growth in Torah learning in particular. When the Mishnah in Avos (6:4) describes the way of Torah – “bread with salt shall you eat, water by measure shall you drink, on the earth shall you sleep” – it is hardly describing a life of comfort.

What distinguished the gedolim of pre-War Europe from today’s bochurim was not kishronos, but what they were willing to forego for Torah. As a student in Volozhin, Rav Isser Zalman Meltzer often went days without food, and his nephew Rav Elazar Menachem Shach testified the same about himself. When Rav Aryeh Leib Gurwicz’s father sent his young son across the border to learn in Lithuania, he never expected to see his son again. Knowing that his son would be sleeping on a bench in an unheated beis medrash, he gave him the greatcoat off his back.

Today when even average bochurim often seek the type of lifetime support that was once reserved for future gedolei hador, one still sees that an overwhelming percentage of the greatest talmidei chachamim live in very strained circumstances. That is not accidental. According to their willingness to sacrifice for their learning, do they wax great.

Among the “comfort” items, we hear on some shidduchim lists is that the girl not be too frum – i.e., she won’t push her husband too much – an explicit recognition that comfort and spiritual growth can be tarti de’sasri (mutually exclusive).

Rav Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler’s message to both the chassan and kallah under the chuppah was to dedicate themselves to being givers and not takers. Just as at this moment of your greatest happiness, you are filled with a desire to give to each other, he would tell them, may you always be filled with the desire to give to one another. As soon as that desire begins to wane, so too will your happiness.

Nothing could be more antithetical to that spirit of giving than approaching marriage with the attitude of “What’s in it for me? What are they offering?” When such questions begin to seem normal, there are no limits. An acquaintance told me recently that her brother had been advised against a certain shidduch by his friends. They had pointed out that the girl’s parents were already in late middle-age, and that she had only one sister, so she might end up having to take care of her parents one day. At least her brother was embarrassed when she pointed out: “Oh, so you expect your in-laws to support you for twenty years, but, chas v’Shalom, you should ever have to do anything for them.” No doubt such bald-faced selfishness is rare, but the extreme examples often reveal more than we care to admit.

Surely one of the reasons that early divorces are far more common today than they used to be is marriage is being approached selfishly, i.e., as means of facilitating an easy life, with a minimum of responsibilities. Under the best of circumstances, those who are not committed to building a partnership based on mutual sharing will never know the true joy of marriage. And such a marriage will never be able to survive the types of setbacks and external pressures that are part and parcel of this olam ha’asiya.

If for no other reason than to help prepare our sons for the next stage of their lives, we owe it to them to make sure that they make themselves available for a few hours of helping with Pesach cleaning. Not for our good but for theirs.

Orthodox Assimilation On Campus – Part 2

Posted on by — 48 Comments ↓

By Yaakov Weinstein – Part 1 is here.

Strategies for a rebbi, teacher or pulpit rabbi:

1) Never give up on a student! Let us say a rebbi tries to convince a student to skip college totally or attend Touro/YU. What happens when the student goes against the rebbi’s suggestions (due to his own thinking or forced by his parents). Well, sometimes the rebbi ‘gives up’ on the student. Since you’re going to college anyway, you may as well throw your yarmulka away… (note the rebbi may not word it this way but this may still be the message the student gets). It should not have to be stated (but unfortunately it IS necessary to state) that this is the worst possible thing to say. Besides the fact that it is utterly false (many great Orthodox leaders of all streams attended secular universities),the student might believe what the rebbi says. The student will get to college and think – I’m already going to ‘burn in hell’ for being here in the first place – why bother getting up for davening, learning a seder, dating a Jewish girl. My dear reader may find this outrageous but it is not – this has happened to good students from wonderful yeshivos.

2) Students can grow in learning, spirituality and all else good, on secular campus. Believe it. Anyone who became frum on campus should already know this. But it is not only ba’alei t’shuva who can grow on campus. Rather then give up on students for going to the ‘wrong’ place, give students the means to grow – book lists (see post of R’ Hirsh for some good books), curricula, email shiurim to them, talk to them in learning when they’re home. Do not be surprised that they learn, expect it from them.

3) Don’t give glib answers to sincere questions. If you think you can answer who wrote the Torah or the evolution ‘problem’ in a one minute conversation keep it to yourself. You merely show that you are not taking the question seriously. Also, don’t say a question is stupid, and if you don’t know something, admit it.

4) Email students, visit them, talk to them, volunteer to give a shiur on a campus near you, invite your local Hillel’s orthodox students to your house, invite students over for a tisch when they are home for winter break. Be active! PLEASE! A quick story from my time on campus: a friend was clearly upset. He told me about a girl in his class he was acquainted with and who was irreligious. That day he had been walking through campus and noticed the campus Chabad rabbi handing out Purim paraphernalia (hamantaschen and the like). He decided to take some for this girl to help spread Purim cheer to someone who, he thought, may need an extra reminder. When he offered the stuff to her she reacted very graciously and said, “Oh, but I already have everything I need. My (Reform) synagogue sends out care-packages before the every holiday.” “A shul sending out care packages to kids on campus?” my friend exclaimed, “Can you even imagine an Orthodox shul doing that? Of course not.” A notable exception to this is R’ Bieler of Kemp Mill Synagogue in Silver Spring, MD. Here’s a description of some of what he does – and students who I have known from his shul truly appreciate it (the rest of the discussion is interesting too).

Strategies for parents:

All of the above applies doubly for parents – the ultimate ‘rebbi’ for their children (whether the parents think so or not). So go back and read those suggestions again! After you’ve read the above twice here are some additional suggestions:

1) Care about the kodesh. Before college – don’t rely on a college advisor who doesn’t REALLY know what’s going on Jewishly on a campus. Instead, get on the Hillel website and talk to the Hillel’s Orthodox rabbinic advisor. While your child is on campus – Keep in touch with him religiously too. When your kids are at college ask them how their learning is going, maybe you can even learn with them on the phone. Keep the number of that Orthodox advisor.

2) Demand strength in high schools especially in Tanach. Kids don’t need to learn about the Documentary Hypothesis in high school. But they do need to see how Tanach works. Insist that students see the majesty of Tanach as can be gained from serious study of Rashi and Rambam but is brought out clearly by R’ Hirsch and R’ Hertz. Do your kids know why different names of the Almighty are used in the Bible?Their Judaic studies professor does (and you won’t like the answer)…

3) Humble skepticism – teach your kids to question unproven statements but realize there are people a lot smarter than them (I must thank Mike Berkowitz of Alon Shevut for this wonderful formulation – see it here.

4) I was told by a Brigham Young University student that at BYU (Mormon) before being allowed back on at the beginning of a semester a student must have a signed letter from their cleric (Mormon or not) that they’ve been keeping up with your religious duties. I have never heard of a Jewish parent who stopped paying tuition because his son or daughter was not learning enough Torah.

5) There are kind, moral, and religious people who are not frum and not Jewish. B”H, on this website I should not have to convince anyone of this. Make sure your kids know this too.

Strategies for students:

1) Time management – students have lots of free time. They’re not in class much, all their food and other necessities are taken care of for them, and, especially liberal arts majors, don’t have much homework. But the free time may be scattered throughout the day and it may not line up with other people’s free time. Students need to learn how to maximize their free time for useful endeavors.

2) Know what situations you might be in and know tha answer before-hand. I’m not a fan of speculating on every possible thing that can happen but some things have a good chance of happening so think about it before hand. Here’s an example: you’re working on a group project. If the project goes well there’s a decent chance someone may suggest going out as a group to a restaurant or bar. Should you go at all? If you go can you eat or drink anything? Thinking about this in advance will help you answer properly when the situation comes up. Another example: you learn with a non-frum chavrusa in the “Study with a Buddy” program. Your chavrusa may invite you to a party, a get-together, or some other event. Do you go? If you go, how much do you participate? Will you walk out if something happens that you do not approve of?

3) Learn practical halacha (especially laws about the kitchen) – you’ll need it.

4) Intense secular studies needs intense Torah studies. There is a lot of chochmah on a college campus. It’s intricate, complex, beautiful… and it can make Torah seem dull by comparison. Unless you can see the beauty and complexity of Torah. Study Torah deeply and intensely! Do not settle for superficial learning. Make up a goals per week and per semester – but be realistic. You can finish shas mishnayos while on campus. You can finish gmara mo’ed. You can learn all of Shulchan Aruch! See how long it is and how much needs to be done on average each day (it’s not much) … Understand that you won’t learn that much during mid-terms and finals. Know this in advance and get back into learning afterwards. If you pull all-nighters for work, pull all nighters for Torah (after midterms or finals please)!

The above are only a few suggestions that people may want to utilize in preparing for a studenton a secular campus. The list is not exhaustive and, of course, individuals need individual preparation.Another series of suggestions from a different approach can be found here.

I have a picture of the ideal Orthodox community on a secular campus. It’s made up of students who are impeccably honest, selflessly helpful, and fiercely proud of their religion. This community is a beacon of moral clarity on a landscape of moral relativity. Jews in this community treat others with respect and dignity while strongly protesting secularism and moral relativity. This community sanctifies the name of God and is a true ‘kingdom of priests.’ To such a community, others would come flocking. There is truly a thirst for knowledge on a college campus – and only a truly religous community will demonstrate that this thirst is a manifestation of the ultimate thirst – “Not a thirst for water, but to hear the words of the Lord” (Habakkuk 2:14).

Orthodox Assimilation On Campus – Part 1

Posted on by — 13 Comments ↓

By Yaakov Weinstein

About eight months ago there was a post on Beyond BT about life at a secular university (non-YU, Touro). At that time Steve Brizel (someone I have never met personally but have been fortunate enough to become acquainted with via the web), suggested that I also write a post on the subject. While I was unable to do so at that time, I am happy to now have the opportunity to fulfill his request.

For this post I assume that much of my audience is familiar with the challenges facing students on secular campuses. Thus, I will include only a few short paragraphs on these challenges and then suggest some strategies for meeting these challenges. I will not include possible merits of attending secular universities. Some of these were addressed in the previous post on this subject. In addition, I can safely assume that a number of readers became ba’alei t’shuva at secular campuses at least partly with the help of other students. Finally, those interested in my personal experiences may enjoy a column I wrote in the YU Commentator concerning the community I was fortunate to be a part of at MIT. This column was in response to a previous piece by a YU student who spent some time at MIT.
The original piece is here:
http://yuweb.addr.com/v67i1/editorials/MITvsYU.htm
My response is here:
http://yuweb.addr.com/v67i2/columns/mit.html

I would like to divide the challenges facing students on secular campuses into three parts: sensual, intellectual and ideological. Each of these deserves a study in and of itself but for now I’ll just provide just a few highlights.

Some readers may remember the university atmosphere of the 1960s: rebellion against authority, free love, drugs and the like. College campuses no longer resemble what they were in the 1960s – they’re worse. All that the rebellious students of the 1960s fought for have become de rigueur on campus. There is a laundry list of statistics on alcohol consumption, sexual activity and drugs on campuses which are easily found on the web (for fun try a google search of – hookah in the sukkah – and note some ‘Orthodox’ sponsorship of smoking). Intellectual challenges can be found in many places on campus. Obviously, courses in Judaic studies, religion, and history will assume multiple, human, authorship of the Torah. But teachings genuinely antithetical to Torah may also be found in courses of psychology and biology. The issues raised in these courses go way beyond the ‘historical’ question of whether evolution occurred. The real challenges are the assumed denial of a supernatural being and the obvious equivalence of man with animal. Ideological challenges on campus can range from hatred of the state of Israel and anti-semitism to deconstructivism (and its accompanied rejection of anything not written by a professor) and the relativty of the terms ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ These are not to be confused with intellectual challenges which attack with certain assumed or understood facts. Ideological challenges attack a student’s attitude towards authority, religion and morality.

Of course, real life challenges cannot be nicely fit into one of these boxes. Generally, a given challenge will include elements of each of the above categories. I like calling this the “b’nos Moav syndrome.” As we are told the Jews only worshipped the idols of Moav as a means of attaining the Moavite women (Rashi Bamidbar 25:2, Sanhedrin 106a). Put into a modern situation, if it allows you to flirt with your gorgeous non-Jewish classmate, it is much easier to believe the human authorship of the Torah. Additionally, challenges on college campuses come at a very impressionable age and at a time when students may be living only with others of this age (i.e. tremendous peer pressure and limited people with life experience with which to talk). The gmara in Kiddushin 30a (according to the second opinion in Rashi) suggests the proper time to chastise and thus teach a child is from 16-22 or 18-24. Increasingly, ‘children’ in this age range find themselves away from home in what may be a religiously hostile environment.

What are some strategies that can be used to face challenges on a secular campus? The strategies I list below are a conglomeration of my own thoughts and experiences and results of conversations I have had with many, many people on this subject. I’ll divide strategies into three parts:
1) strategies for a rebbi, teacher or shul rabbi,
2) strategies for parents with kids on campus
3) strategies for students on campus.

But before getting to this list there is one ‘strategy’ that is most important – Know yourself/ your child / your student – some students perform best in a structured setting. Some do best when they do not have to be a leader. Others do best when faced with adversity. They step up when the going gets rough, but may not even bother if things are catered to them. There is NO way personal advice can be given or a proper decision can be made without this knowledge (if I can add a personal interpretation to a well-known discussion: Chazal discuss the spiritual stature of Noach. Some say that he was a great man and had he lived at the time of Avraham – where there were others worshipping the true Deity – he would have been even greater. Some say he was great for his generation but would not have been much had he lived at the time of Avraham – see Rashi Breishis 6:9. I suggest that this discussion actually relates to the personality of Noach rather then his spiritual stature. The latter opinion believes that Noach was the type of individual who needed the challenge. The natural rebel against what is popular. Thus, he excelled specifically in a generation of evil).

To Be Continued