Drop By Drop

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Friends of ours had bought our five-year old daughter a flowering plant. She was proud of having the responsibility to care for and tend to the plant. A few weeks later, I noticed that the plant was not looking too great. In fact, it looked to be on its last legs. “Atara, what’s going on with your plant?”, I asked. She held her hand to her tiny lips and said “Oops, I forgot to water it this week!” Perhaps I should have used the moment to explain to her the importance of plant care (me, the blackest of the black thumbs?!). Perhaps I should have stressed the character trait of responsibility. But, she was too cute and my cereal was too crunchy for me to take the moment to pass on that parental advice.

About a half hour later, Atara confidently walked up to me, Poland Spring water bottle in hand, and proudly exclaimed “Abba, I poured TWELVE bottles of water on my plant.” Then, she looked at me as if to say “That problem is solved” and confidently walked away to go about the business of coloring, jumping rope or some other activity of great importance. If I had thought she was cute earlier, now she was absolutely delicious. But I knew at that moment that if the plant previously had any remaining chance of survival, it had just been, quite literally, washed out.

Here we stand, before another Yom Kippur. Another year where we, humans that we are, failed to take proper care of our souls and the responsibilities entrusted to us by Hashem. Our souls are thirsty and weak because we have failed to diligently and properly water them throughout the year (and you thought a one day fast was difficult!). We realize our mistakes, we regret our mistakes, we verbalize our mistakes and we resolve to rectify our mistakes. But all too often we attempt to slake our thirsting souls with bottles and bottles of water in a well meaning attempt to make up for the long drought. “I didn’t properly set aside time to learn torah last year, an hour a week is just not enough. This year, I’m going to learn daf yomi, mishna yomi, mishnah berurah yomi, hey, I may even invent a new “yomi” and learn that as well!”

On the surface, it makes sense. We are thirsty and we realize that we should have been drinking all along. But we simply cannot handle all of that water all at once. Overwatering kills more plants than any other cause. We are just setting ourselves up for failure.

What we really need is drip irrigation. Drip irrigation was developed and perfected in Israel. It is the slow, steady application of water directly to the plant’s root zone where the water is most urgently needed. Drip irrigation minimizes water loss and prevents overwatering which eventually chokes off roots and kills the plant. If I’ve realized that an hour a week of learning is not enough, this year I’m going to start learning an extra half an hour a week. After a few months of consistency, after the roots have gotten stronger, they may require a little more water, another fifteen minutes perhaps. And don’t kid yourself into thinking that a drop at a time cannot develop sea changes. Remember the story of Rabbi Akiva who had observed a hole cut clean through a rock, the hole having been formed by the continual dripping of water.

Throughout Selichos and the Yom Kippur service we echo the words of the navi Yezekiel’s promise from Hashem: “I will sprinkle upon you pure waters and you will become purified.” As Hashem does his sprinkling, let us do our own sprinkling: little by little, drop by drop, Spiritual Drip Irrigation. Gemar chasima tovah.

A Mussaf of Inspiration

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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

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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.

Small Steps and Big Jumps

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It’s been ages that I’ve written here, so here’s something for Elul.

The Chofetz Chaim Heritage Foundation has an excellent tape series called “Grasp the Gift of Teshuva.” One of the tapes contains the following true story which is also an amazing mashal for teshuva.

During World War II, the Rov of a certain town managed to smuggle a knife with him into the cattle car when he and his kehila were captured by the Nazis. Using the knife, he broke a hole into the cattle car and urged everyone to jump through it.

“It’s your chance at life!” he told the people. “You know where we’re going.”

But the cattle car was speeding along the tracks, and taking the jump meant risking serious injury and possibly death. The people were too scared, so only the Rov took the jump. And he was the only person from his town to survive the war.

The speaker on the tape applied the Rov’s lesson to abandoning the path of sin. We know where sin leads us, and sometimes, we have to take one big jump to get away from it. Doing it might be scary, but not doing it is certain doom. In the long run, the wiser thing is to take the jump.

Of course, every BT in the world knows what it is to take a big jump. We’ve redefined our whole lives. But every BT has also received the advice to go slow, not to take on too much too fast, because that often leads to backsliding. The same principle applies when we’re already frum. Teshuva lasts when taken on in small increments. Instead of working on kavannah in davening overall, we concentrate on one particular tefilla. Instead of going cold turkey on some pet aveira, we gradually wean ourselves from it.

I want to share with you my Elul of two years ago. I had a part-time secretarial job and was spending much of every work day online. When I started, it was just during the down times, but later, it became an addiction. I knew it was wrong, and I felt guilty about it, but I felt I was incapable of going cold turkey. So I decided that for Elul, I would resist any online activity at the office for 15 minutes a day. Very soon, I worked it up to 2 hours a day. And then, instead of visiting my favorite social sites, I began listening to online shiurim.

I’ve often said that Cheshvan is when we get our post-Yom Tov cheshbon. (Leave it to a BT with rudimentary Hebrew to come up with a vort like that.) That Cheshvan, despite these efforts at self-improvement, I was fired. It came as quite a blow because it felt like Hashem hadn’t accepted my little steps toward teshuva.

But teshuva is never worthless. The next job I got was ad writing for Rabbi Berel Wein’s Destiny Foundation. I actually got to earn my living by listening to shiurim – the very thing I was doing illegally at my previous job!

Of course, I still had further to go. I’d made little steps, but the big leap was still to come. And as many of you know, it came about six months later, during Sefirah, with Rabbi Solomon’s anti-Internet drasha. I needed a gadol to give me the push. I was too weak to do it on my own. But the entire experience has taught me a little about how Hashem runs the world. We make changes in Elul, daven for our future in Tishrei, and feel the effects of both the rest of the year. Those little steps toward teshuva in Elul sealed my fate for the big jump I was to make in May. Those little steps build up momentum toward one big, running leap.

May Hashem bless each of us with the strength we need for small steps and big jumps.

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

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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.

A Sanctuary in my Heart (Bilvavi Mishkan Evneh)

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The Sefer “Bilvavi Mishkan Evneh (In My Heart I Build A Sanctuary)” is a highly acclaimed manual for the development of a personal and intimate relationship with Hashem. It was authored by Rav Itamar Shwartz, who recently toured the United States.

Dixie Yid has posted all the recorded shiurim of the tour. The shiurim are in easy to understand Hebrew.

If you prefer text to audio, an english translation of the text is published here.

Here is an excerpt:

What in truth is the purpose of man in his world? The words of the Mesillas Yesharim (Ch. 1) are known. He wrote, “In truth, the only true completeness is deveikus (attachment) to Hashem. That is what David HaMelech said (Tehillim 73:28): “And for me, closeness to Hashem is good….” In other words, if one wishes to know what makes a man complete, he should consider what David HaMelech understood to be good for himself. If it was good for him, it is good for every single one of us. He said, “And for me, closeness to Hashem is good.”

No one is interested in a broken table or a broken chair. No one wants to sleep on a broken bed. All the more so, no one deep down wants to be a broken person, but a complete person. (There is a concept of a broken heart, but that is not relevant here.) What is a complete Jew? One who doesn’t lack hands? Who doesn’t lack legs? No, that is only superficial perfection, bodily perfection. True completeness, which is in the soul and is inward, is the completeness derived from closeness to Hashem. As the Ramchal wrote (Ch. 1), “In truth, all true completeness (the completeness of every single person without exception) is deveikus to Hashem.” As he says there, “Anything else deemed good by people is vanity and deceptive emptiness.” This is all a Jew really has in life — closeness to Hashem and deveikus to Hashem. The whole essence of a Jew is to be close to Hashem and to cleave to Him. Not only in the World to Come is a man’s purpose to cleave to the Creator, but even in this world, man’s job and purpose is to cleave to the Creator. If there is a moment in which one does not cleave to the Creator, for that moment, he is an incomplete human. He lacks true completeness, which is deveikus to Hashem.

A sincere person, who hears these words and truly accepts them in his soul, must take these words of the Ramchal and write them on a sheet of paper and place it in his pocket. About every fifteen minutes (so the words will be before his eyes at all times), he should remove the paper from his pocket, and contemplate it well, and remind himself again and again: Why am I here? What is the purpose of my life? The answer is deveikus to Hashem. He will read the words again and again until they are alive before his eyes and he no longer needs to look at the paper. Rather, his soul will clearly recognize the purpose of life and he will constantly seek to apply the message.

Rabbi Harvey Belovski on Kiruv

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Rabbi Harvey Belovski recently posted some Hard Questions About Kiruv on Cross Currents. After a number of paragraphs focused on the small percentage of Baalei Teshuva who fall out of Yiddishkeit, he concludes:

I hope that it’s not too controversial to suggest that the objectives of outreach are to help each Jew reach his or her full potential as a human being, ultimately through Mitzvah observance and Torah study. Presumably we should get to know those who seek our guidance: learn to love them as individuals; discover their interests, strengths, weaknesses, likes, dislikes, emotional, intellectual and spiritual needs. Developing a sense that the religious needs of each person we meet differ considerably from those of every other can be difficult, but might we be doing those with whom we work a disservice by adopting any other approach? The Sages teach:

When a man mints many coins with one stamp, they all look the same, but while the King of kings, the Holy One, blessed is He, minted each person with the ‘stamp’ of Adam the First, no one looks like any other. (Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5)

If God created us as individuals, it should be the role of those privileged to help His children along their journey towards Him to foster that individuality. Shouldn’t we try to craft a tailor-made religious path for each of our students? Despite the complexities of doing this, it might just enable them to benefit from the wonders of Torah life without stifling their personality or crushing their need for self-expression.

Is it just possible that the multi-chromatic vision of the Jewish world isn’t the common one in the kiruv scene because some of those in charge don’t subscribe to it? Some of us may have come to believe that there is a single optimum way to be a Torah Jew: one ‘correct’ approach to all Jewish issues, one best way of observing halakhah (Jewish law), one ideal mode of living and one supreme authority for Jewish life. May I suggest, perhaps contrary to prevailing norms, that a kiruv operative would see it as a sacred duty to learn about (and hence validate) the range of Jewish possibilities and to incorporate that into his or her kiruv practice. After all, the magnificent system of thought and practice called Judaism really does have a multiplicity of expressions. Finally, might an outreach professional who thinks that it is his or her mission to turn an eclectic group of non-observant Jews into a bunch of religious clones be in the wrong job?

BT 2.0

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One summer, 20 years ago, I became Torah Observant. The decision and commitment took place while on an NCSY summer tour right before my junior year of high school. My growth as a Jew after that point was fairly text book, I suppose. Strong participation in NCSY, several years learning in Eretz Yisrael, combined with both a L’mudai Kodesh and secular education for college.

As time went on I became friends with many BTs, like myself, as well as FFBs. Eventually I got married and started a family. As I look back at my ‘life’ as a Torah Jew, I see that something happened.

I stopped connecting on a certain level as a BT. I don’t mean that I denied or hid my own journey towards Teshuva. I simply functioned on a level where I focused more on my learning, growth, and Avodas Hashem and less on my past. About a year and half ago I experienced a massive paradigm shift. I stumbled upon a web project started by two guys from Queens.

I began reading several posts and then posting comments myself. Even after years of being involved in outreach work, I found an awakening in myself and a feeling of chizuk from people with whom I shared a common past.

While I had been a BT for many years, I realized that I could connect with others in totally different aspect. I entered a new phase as a Baal Teshuva. I refer to as BT 2.0. For me, it’s a realization that regardless of geographic location we are all, as clichéd as it sounds, connected.

I just wanted to thank all the participants here for their time and efforts. For even the BT of twenty years, like myself, is never Beyond Teshuva.

Showing Sensitivity to Intermarried BTs

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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.

Unbelievably Inspirational JHC Rosh Hashana Retreat

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The Jewish Heritage Center invites you to join its Directors, Rabbi Naftali Portnoy, Rabbi Moshe Turk & Rabbi Dovid Schwartz at an inspirational Rosh Hashana & Shabbos Shuva.

Spend this three day Yom Tov (and/or Yom Kippur) in a place where you can learn and grow with a great lineup of speakers:
-Rabbi Ronnie Greenwald
-Rabbi Label Lam
-Dr. Gila Schwerd
-Rabbi Moshe Schwerd.

-Incredible Yeshiva style davening and ruach led by Rabbi Yossi Singer.
-Concurrent beginners services and a dynamic array of basic workshops.
-Full range of lectures and shiurim geared for singles, couples and families of all levels of learning
-Original singles programming in a dignified Torah environment.
-Sumptuous world class meals in a luxurious and spacious hotel.

Both of us (David and Mark) have been going to this event for many years and it is truly amazing. If you can make it, we highly recommend it.

Call 718 575-3100 or email events@thejhc.org or visit http://jhcevents.com/ for more information.

Looking at Intermarriage

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Devarim 7:7 – “Not because you were more numerous than any people did God find satisfaction in you and choose you, for you were the fewest of all the peoples.”

Throughout history we have ALWAYS been in the competition for “fewest of all the peoples.”

And yet…

“The Egyptian, the Babylonian, and the Persian rose, filled the planet with sound and splendor, then faded to dream-stuff and passed away; the Greek and the Roman followed, and made a vast noise, and they are gone; other peoples have sprung up and held their torch high for a time, but it burned out, and they sit in twilight now, or have vanished. The Jew saw them all, beat them all, and is now what he always was, exhibiting no decadence, no infirmities of age, no weakening of his parts, no slowing of his energies, no dulling of his alert and aggressive mind. All things are mortal but the Jew: all other forces pass, but he remains. WHAT IS THE SECRET OF HIS IMMORTALITY?”

~ Mark Twain, “Concerning The Jews”

The secret Mark Twain is looking for is not such a big secret. The secret is Hashem. It is Hashem’s mechanism for preserving His people. The secret is hard to see only until the secret is revealed. From then on it’s easy to see.

The Jews COULD BE as populous in the world as the Christians or the Muslims… IF our ranks had not been continuously thinned out and held in check by the rest of the world. We Jews have been subject to non-stop hatred and persecution. We have been tortured, and we have been murdered, and it has been neverending though history. That is half of the explanation to why we are few, the physical attacks against ourselves. It doesn’t tell us why we Jews still exist however.

Spiritual attacks are the other half of why we are few. Those attacks come in a variety of forms; forbidding Torah study, davening, Rosh Chodesh, Yom Tov, bris milah, tefillin, and so forth. All this reinforces our paucity, but still doesn’t tell us how we survived as a people.

Spiritual attacks today are not coming in forbidding adherence to Jewish law so much as something else, something far more insideous and more difficult to understand; enticements toward intermarriage and assimilation. These are the “nice” attacks, the “sweet” attacks, the “sugared-coated poison” attacks.

To keep this piece from going too long I will focus the rest of this narrative on intermarriage.

God forbids intermarriage. Nechemya (Nehemiah) 10:30-31 – “…observe and fulfill all the commandments of God, our Lord, and His laws and His decrees, and that we would not give our daughters (in marriage) to the peoples of the land (non-Jews), nor take their daughters for our sons…”

The prohibition against intermarriage is clear, yet intermarriage is now rampant within our ranks. A look at some statistics will be most helpful. For discussion purposes, I will use the “National Jewish Population Survey (NJPS) Of Year 2000.” You can view the charts here.

The intermarriage rates stand at around 50% for reform and non-affilliated, around 32% for conservative, and around 6% for orthodox Jewry. At this rate we are looking at the death throes of the Reform and Conservative Movements right now. A generation or two more and they will be gone…poof!

To forstall the inevitable, drastic measures have been taken and more are on the way in order to hang on for dear…(cough) life. For example, the Reform rewrote God in their own image when they decided that patrilineal descent can also keep the children Jewish.

God demonstrates this fallacy in Ezra, Chapter 10, Verses 2-3 – “…We (Jews) have trespassed against our God, and have taken “nashim nachrios” (non-Jewish women)…Now therefore let us make a covenant with our God to put away all such women and all that are born to them…and let it be done according to the Torah.”

Jewish men must leave their non-Jewish wives. No “gett” (Jewish divorce decree) is required because God does not recognize Jewish intermarriage. AND, because the women were not Jewish, meaning the children were also NOT JEWISH, the children are being left behind as well. If you think that is harsh, understand that God expects His Jewish Covenant to be adhered to in every respect. God says it is life and death…”CHOOSE LIFE!” (Devarim 30:19)

If it was Jewish WOMEN who were married to non-Jewish MEN, the children would not have been left behind, because, being from Jewish mothers, the children would also have been Jewish.

Likewise, one of the examples of the Conservatives rewriting God in their own image happened when they VOTED that driving on Shabbos was now allowed…so long as they only drove to shul.

God is very clear about being rewritten. Many of the Taryag Mitzvos are dedicated to these kinds of infractions. This subject should be studied in depth from Devarim, Chapter 13. It isn’t pretty.

What is now clearly happening is that the current, less than 200 year old emanation of the Reform and Conservative Movements, are unraveling and on the road to extinction. As in the past, observant Jewry will repopulate the nation, only to begin the self-perpetuating cycle of Jewish collapse and renewal once again. We wait for Moshiach to straighten everything out once and for all, and this time…forever.

Judaism is like a tree with lots of dead end branches. It is our job as Jews to stay on the trunk and not get pushed off onto one of the dead end branches, or a leaf that goes brown and blows away. We need to be on the tree’s trunk, and that is where we want our progeny to be as the final act in God’s play unfolds.

Meanwhile, what is the attraction of intermarriage? Why do so many of us fall to its allure? I am going to throw some additional numbers at you and then make some points.

Jews are 1/4 of 1% of the world’s population. That is, for every Jew there are 400 non-Jews. To better understand what this means, I am going to focus on America, which entertains the world’s largest Jewish population. Still and all, Jews are outnumbered in America by around 50 to 1.

For many of those “50,” CATCHING a Jew is an prize of extreme value. The Jew is sought after for his mystique. He is vaunted for his intellect. They think the Jew is wealthy, and sometimes he is. The Jew is treasured in THEIR minds because he is the one who was chosen by God. Acquiring a Jewish mate for many of the 50 is as good to them as it is to a child acquiring his first bicycle.

Most of these 50 don’t have a clue that for the Jew marriage to them is a sin before God, and that if they help the Jew commit this sin they have earned a share in this very major transgression. For many of them they see only the opposite. If they can bring a the Jew even an inch closer to THEIR OWN beliefs, they are doing that Jew the biggest favor of his life, and they will be blessed by the Lord. They don’t view themselves as villains creating the means for sin. In their eyes, they are heroes, even saints.

Let’s say that 20% of those 50 would actually make the attempt to snare the Jew if they had the opportunity. Of that 20%, let’s say half at some point find themselves in close enough proximity to a Jew to have a shot at enticing him (or her). For every single Jewish man or woman out there, that means there may be 5 or more non-Jewish men or women after YOUR potential mate.

Think about this 5-1. Who are these 5? Look at it from the point of view of the girls: What is a Jewish woman competing with? These 5 non-Jews are ready to give YOUR guy whatever wants, whatever he is looking for. If he wants SEX, two or more of them will be glad to give it to him. If he wants intellect, one of more of them will have an ample supply. If he wants sweetness and charm, one or more will be there to oblige. If he wants gorgeous, a runway model, one or more will be close enough. Whatever he wants…it’s there, and they are YOUR competition for YOUR potential guy.

What are you going to do about it ladies? Are you going to give him sex because it’s the only way you think you can compete with your nemesis? Is it any wonder that Jewish tznius (modesty) and self worth have plummeted in recent times?

Why do these non-Jews have any capability of competing with you? It should be no contest. They have NOTHING to offer. YOU have everything. The problem is, too many of us have forgotten that we are Jews. To many of us no longer know how Jews are supposed to live. Too many of us have lost the meaning of being Jewish and the importance of our heritage.

This is why reform is intermarrying at 50%, conservative at 32%, and orthodox at 6%. When we stay with what God tells us, we stay Jewish. When we don’t, we get swallowed up like Yonah. It is because we are chosen and because we are the smallest of the peoples, that the today’s world is so divided on what to do with us: Kill us, or love us to death.

Looking for the Signal

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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.

Everyone’s Meshugah!

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I recently read Baruch Horowitz’s “Are you Happy Being Haredi?” To a certain extent, it reminded me of feelings I’ve had regarding people choosing different derachim than mine. Some of my fellow BT travelers will remember the comic bit where a comedian asks the question: “Did you ever notice that anyone who drives slower than you is an idiot… and anyone who drives faster than you is a maniac?” Funny. And true! There have certainly been times during my post-teshuvah life (for lack of a better term) when I could have rephrased this as: “Did you ever notice that anyone to the right of you is a “fanatic”… and anyone to the left of you is an “apikorus”?” While that may be a bit of hyperbole, for me, the concept has, at times, rang true.

Reconciling the fact that one’s chosen derech may not be the best derech for another wasn’t simple for me. After all (I subconsciously thought), if I have chosen a certain derech, that must be THE derech. However, I eventually realized that I needed to focus on the fact that it is not THE derech but actually THE derech for ME. I also found that the area in which I was making most of these judgments was centered around the way people attempted to find the proper balance regarding the level of interaction with the non-frum or non-Jewish world. It seems to me that this is, perforce, an area of extreme importance for any BT. Here is an example: If I had a question about my ability to attend a holiday work party and my Rov advised me to go, I would view a friend’s Rov’s advice that he should not attend as unnecessarily strict. On the other hand, if my Rov had advised me not to attend and my friend’s Rov advised him to go, I would view my friend’s Rov’s decision as being too lenient. It took me a while to realize that my friend’s Rov was making a decision taking my friend’s individual issues into account and advising him within the Rov’s own well established derech.

Much was said about the topic of BTs being judged by FFBs in Rabbi Yitz Greenman on Integrating into the Frum Community. That brought me to do some personal soul searching only to discover that I too can be negatively judgmental of my fellow BTs and of FFBs. (what a BT being judgmental?!) I wonder if this is a wider issue or just my own challenge.

BT Wife, Non-Observant Husband

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When I sat down to write this – my first article for Beyond BT – I wanted to phrase it in the plural, as “we,” writing for other women as well as myself. But I don’t know any other women in my situation. Perhaps, as a result of this article, some will come forward.

There are some inspirational stories in Jewish literature about religious women whose husbands are not on as high a spiritual level, though such women are, seemingly, nowhere to be found in our present-day world. There’s a classic story from Beresheet Rabbah (17:7) about a pious man and woman who divorced because they were childless; each married a wicked mate. The pious man’s new wife made him wicked, while the pious woman made her new husband righteous. The moral of this story is that “everything depends on the woman.”

Or, there is the story of Devorah, the Judge of Israel. Her husband, according to Pirkei d’Rabbi Eliezer (chapter 9), was not learned. So Devorah would make wicks and send her husband to deliver them to the Temple, so he would be exposed to the holy surroundings and perhaps, by osmosis or by interacting with those present, be influenced. She is given the credit for assuring that her husband would thereby have a share in the World to Come.

Through a series of events which would be off-topic to detail, I married my husband 15 years ago. We are an older couple, so some things that would be serious issues for (hypothetical) younger observant/non-observant couples are not relevant to us. But there are still challenges aplenty.

Our kitchen is unique. My husband loves to cook and putter around in the kitchen; I’m probably one of the few women who wishes her husband would leave the kitchen entirely to her. But he has his area of the kitchen (non-kosher), and I have mine (kosher). I don’t know what I’d do without aluminum foil, plastic wrap, and the two self-cleaning ovens I’m fortunate enough to have. My husband likes to joke to people that “we have three sets of dishes: meat, milk, and mine,” or that with our three microwave ovens, anyone with a pacemaker would get zapped if they walked in. Seriously, though, we can’t have any of our observant friends over to eat because I would not want to put them in an awkward position of having to refuse due to doubts. We have been their guests many, many times, but we can’t reciprocate.

Shabbat is unique. I make a point of preparing an elaborate Friday night dinner for just the two of us, and my husband puts on a yarmulke and eats with me at the candlelit Shabbat table – but on his own dishes and with his own placemat. Lately he has even been washing for bread (my homemade challah). I guess for him that’s a giant step; I can’t realistically expect that he will ever sing Zemirot or even Eishet Chayil.

Our house is full of timers. Thank G-d for technology! But, he goes his merry way and puts on lights (and TV and computer and so on) for himself as he wishes. Saturday is his favorite shopping day – did I mention that he likes to shop as well as cook? Meanwhile, every Shabbat morning I am in shul, davening to Hashem. Many of the prayers have extra meaning for me: “Return us to You…” and so on.

It is because of my husband’s love for me that I even have a chance to be in shul at all. For many years, we lived far away from the Jewish community. As I came back to Yiddishkeit, I longed to be near an Orthodox shul. Finally, he moved us to the wonderful community where we now live – even though that meant he would be commuting to and from work a total of 100 miles a day. We are around the corner from my shul of choice, one of five Orthodox shuls within walking distance. To me, that is as great a miracle as Yetziat Mitzrayim, and I often think of my own personal Exodus during that part of the prayers.

But it is only rarely that my husband comes to shul. Most of the time, there is a “black hole” for me as I peer through the Mechitzah and see that he is not there. The husband of one of my dearest friends says a Mi Sheberach for my family whenever he gets an Aliyah; it is usually the only way I will have that blessing. As each of my friends sees her husband get an Aliyah, I embrace her and wish that she will have as much joy from her husband’s Aliyah as I would if it were my husband.

When my husband does come to shul, my prayers really come alive. The words seem like they are leaping off the page in flames of spirituality.

The community has welcomed us with open arms. My husband enjoys the company of many of the men when we are someone’s guests. But, so far, he has not adopted their lifestyle.

He is wonderful to me, thoughtful, considerate, loving and funny. He’s everything a woman would want, but he’s not observant. In fact, one of the “problems” I’ve had was how to stop him from buying me flowers on Shabbat!

Most of the stories on the standard Jewish Web sites have happy endings of how this or that person became a BT. We never hear about the ones who don’t. I constantly hope and pray that my husband will become observant – after all, doesn’t it all depend upon the woman? – but, only Hashem knows, and I have to have faith that this is all for the best.

Teshuvah, Marriage, and Revelations of the “Past”

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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..

Am I More Judgemental of the Non-observant Since Becoming a BT?

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Mark and David asked in their suggested topics: Am I more judgemental of the non-observant since becoming a BT?

Often times when we are becoming frum, we are at just about the most judgmental times in our lives. When it comes to non-frum friends and family one thinks, “If I could see the truth, why can’t they? They have no excuse!” On the other hand, we think about the frum people, “How can they talk during davening? How come he goes so fast through davening that when I’m starting “Ata Chonein,” he’s taking his three steps back?! How can people sleep through their Friday night seuda without any Zmiros?”

Of course, when Yiddishkeit is new and exciting, it is easy to get overconfident and judgmental about others. However, I would make two comments. One is that we all know that after a few years go by and things are not so new anymore, we start to understand our frum friends a little better, as we become, or are inclined to become, more like them. Once the davening becomes fluent and we aren’t excited by it anymore, there’s a desire to speed through it to things we want to do more. It becomes, then, easier not to judge frum people because we are more like them now.

When it comes to judging non-frum people, I think it’s good to step back from yourself and ask the question, “Why did I become frum to begin with? Was it because I was the only one who was intellectually honest and searching, examing all the evidence with disinterested objectivity?” No! I, at least, became frum because I was inexorably drawn to it, once I began learning about it. There was an inexplicable pull that caused me to incredibly fascinated with Torah and Yiddishkeit. I reflect on the fact that I know dozens and dozens of people who were exposed to the same people and teachings that I was exposed to. Yet they remained unmoved, while I was blown away and drawn after it.

I cannot explain this difference in reaction by any natural means. I can’t say that I’m the only deep thinker that I knew. That would be ga’avah and it would be false. The only explanation I have come up with to explain this phenomenon is Siyata Dishmaya. It may sound strange but I don’t put my teshuva in the context of a truly free-will decision for me. I was drawn. Others are unmoved. It seems to me that the hand of G-d plucks out certain Neshamos, for his own inscrutible reasons, and brings them into the fold. (For more on limitations on free will, see Mei Hashiloach Parshas Vayeira, D”H “Vatitzchak Sara,” and Parshas Pinchas. See also, Tzidkus Hatzadik 44.)

I think that we can avoid the feeling of ga’avah and judgmentalism by meditating upon the fact that you and I are only zocheh to be here because of the kindness of Hashem in bringing us close, and not due to any personal intellectual or spiritual greatness.

May Hashem bring all Jews closer to Him soon in our days!

Reasons To Practice as a Jew

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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).

Getting Beyond Doubts

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One of my first substantive explorations into the Torah blogosphere was with regards to the ban of R’ Slifkin’s books. This essay is not intended either to condemn or defend the ban which many have written about almost to the point of ad nauseum. However, in my surfing of the Torah blogosphere, I was struck by the fact that so many people’s emunah seemed so fragile because of a perceived irreconcilable conflict between Torah and science.

There are a number of approaches available. I use the term “approaches” because IMO, there may not be any real answers that solve every problem relating to one’s degree or level of Emunah. FWIW, this issue is not a 21st Century issue but can be found in Hilchos Teshuvah where we find that the Raavad champions “Emunah Pshutah” or “simple faith” as opposed to a faith based upon a scientifical or philosophical basis. Echoes of this dispute can be found in writings of the Ramban and Rashba. One can postulate that the development and flourishing of Kabbalah under the Ari was in reaction to a rationalistic system of viewing hashkafic issues that had no answer for such cataclysmic events as the expulsion from Spain.

That being said, RYBS commented in many different contexts that our challenge is to be a Shomer Torah UMitzvos despite the presence of doubts. IOW, the challenge is neither to walk away from Torah observance because of the presence of real doubts on many issues or to believe that one’s responsibility is to solve issues that not even Moshe Rabbeinu received answers to such as Tzadik vRah Lo, Rasha vTov Lo..Simply stated,-one should not water down Torah to make it palatable to science and those who believe in “scientism” or water down legitimate scientific discoveries or questions to make science palatable to Torah. There are some conflicts that cannot be resolved. OTOH, many of the books authored by militant athesists such as Dawkins, Gould and Hitchens strike me as displaying less knowledge of Torah Judaism than a graduate of an elementary day school, yeshiva or Beis Yaakov. IMO, such books are hardly a threat to Torah. R D Lamm has an excellent essay on this issue as well where different levels of doubt are set forth. I don’t have the title in front of me, but it is worth reading just on what constitutes a legitimate sense of doubt.

Given the above, I would argue that our responsibility is to gain as much an understanding of what Chazal viewed as the Ikarie Emunah which are set forth in Chumash, the Siddur and Machzor. Basic concepts such as Bchirah Chofshis, Akedah. Am Segulah, Bris Avos, Yetzias Mitzrayim, Bris Sinai, Kabbalas HaTorah, TSBP, Malchuyos, Zicronos and Shofaros and Teshuvah seem IMO the concepts that Chazal stressed in developing a bedrock sense of Ikarie Emunah. As a corollary, I would maintain that a study of the Taryag Mitzvos and how they apply differently to a Kohen, Levi Yisrael, woman and minor would show that our Mesorah presented and demands different levels of Kedusha for different people. From what I have seen, we need to work more on these Ikarie Emunah and to be able to believe in them-even if there is no physical or archaeological evidence that would support them. I strongly believe that a belief that would be predicated solely or primarily on the evidence supporting these events is susceptible to a human challenge.

Guide to abbreviations:
IMO – In my opinion
FWIW – For what it’s worth
RYBS – Rav Yosef Ber Soleveitchik
IOW – In other words
OTOH – On the other hand
TBSP – Torah She Baal Peh

Refining the Rough Edges

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“”Tsnius” is a broad concept that encompasses more than just clothing.

We need to be tsnius in thought and demeanor, learning to speak softly and carry a soft stick, modifying how we speak to each other and how we react to those inevitable “event cards” in our lives. How do we learn to be pure in thought and action, G-dly in manner and deed?

For the fledgling BT, it’s not as easy as it sounds.

Growing up, I was known as “Foghorn Leghorn” in my family. As the disappearing middle child, I learned how to be noticed by developing a powerful set of lungs. I’m pretty sure I would have made it on the stage were I less shy than I was. In my family, you had to be LOUD to be heard, as rambunctious as we all were.

My aggressive and strong voice reverberates across the miles. People know I’ve arrived before I do. It’s just the way it is.

But just because I’m LOUD doesn’t mean I’m bold and confident. My ebullience masks a mass of insecurities and shrinking violet-itis.

I am a shy person. There you have it. Socially inept, tongue-tied and lacking in confidence, that’s me.

I don’t particular notice FFBs being modest and quiet all the time. In fact I’ve met some wonderfully outgoing and rambunctious characters in my travels – to my delight! I don’t think being a shrinking violet or a mouse is what is meant by being tsnius, modest and G-dly.

I do however need to smooth out the rough edges. I think we all have a desire to enhance our positive attributes while diminishing the negative – refining the nefesh to refine the neshama.

When I became frum, I tore into my wardrobe and eliminated the “not tsnius” clothing, mostly jeans and leggings. That was fairly easy to do. Okay, I admit it was a little hard to give away some of my favorite outfits, but I was never that flashy to begin with.

So now it’s time to overhaul my personality wardrobe.

I confess – I used to have a few swear words in my vocabulary. There’s nothing like a good expletive to make you feel better when you hammer your thumb. It just works.

I’m happy to report that I’ve eliminated these words, with just an occasional minor slip up, like when a pot falls out of the cupboard and hits me in the head. My husband always tells me to thank Hashem for the tikkun.

I’ve been able to successfully replace bad words with less damaging ones like “jeepers!” or “darn!”

I’d like to revamp me entirely though, so my automatic default isn’t anger or a negative behaviour mode when bad things happen.

I’d like to become the kind of person that doesn’t need to vent when things don’t go my way.

I’d like to be the kind of person that takes it all in stride and is comfortable knowing there’s not much I can do about life’s little annoyances, or even major catastrophes, since it’s G-d’s will anyway.

So, how do I do that?

How do I learn how not to let things get to me, to be less cranky when things don’t go my way? How do I quiet the internal road-rage when I hit life’s potholes and traffic jams?

How do I match my personality and demeanor to my tsnius skirts and blouses?

I think it’s by stilling the internal noise, and opening my mind and my ears.

Mishlei 23:12. Bring your heart to discipline and your ears to words of knowledge.