Shalom everyone! These past several days has been the holiday of Sukkot, the Jewish harvest festival, a time when Jewish people around the world celebrate with festive meals and parties, extra prayers and songs, and the construction of huts called sukkahs. A sukkah is usually made with temporary materials (i.e. plywood and cornstalk roofs) and is a place where people eat, study, sleep, and just hang out in general. What exactly is the point of this seemingly random structure? In order to clarify this, I have a chasidic story that I heard on the first night of Sukkot to share with you all.
There was once a rich Russian merchant who heard of the Magid of Mezeritch, a very prominant rabbi and the second Chassidic rebbe, and decided to go on a trip to visit him in the next town over. When he knocked on the Magid's door and the Magid answered, the merchant saw that the inside of the house was bare of fancy furniture, aesthetic beauty, or luxuries. There was a chair, a desk, a bed, a table; incredible simple and humble. The merchant asked "Rabbi, I don't mean to be rude, but for such an illustrious man as yourself, where is all of your furniture?" The Magid smiled and answered "In your house, is there a lot of fancy furniture and luxuries?" The merchant nodded. "And now that you are in Mezeritch, do you have all of your furniture with you?" The merchant laughed and replied, "Not at all Rabbi, but I'm only just traveling through!" At the merchant's words, the Magid gave an "aha!" and replied "You see, I too am just traveling through. One day, I will finally come home and on that day, I hope that you will be able to come visit me and see how amazing it is."
What is this story supposed to mean? The Magid had a house, so why did he say that he was only traveling through? How is this story connected to Sukkot? As I said before, we build our sukkahs with temporary materials: flimsy plywood for the walls and brittle cornstalk for the roof. This is meant to remind us that everything we have, our house, car, fancy furniture, job, education, family, friends, even our very lives, they all come from G-d. Although we may work incredibly hard for the money with which to pay for all our material possesions, it really all comes from G-d and if G-d were to will it, He could take it all away. Now, this doesn't mean that we should cower in fear our entire lives, worried sick that G-d will just one day decided to play a sick joke and take everything back, leaving us homeless without a friend, fated to walk the streets for food. But what it does mean is that we should be able to look beyond the material and to see what's really important. Nothing is permanent and yet we constantly decide to base our lives around the illusion of stability. By recognizing that all we have is makeshift and temporary just as with someone who is on the road, we are able to attach ourselves to what's really important and to truly live.
This sense of a makeshift life can be seen in the history of the Jewish people: Abraham's journey from his hometown to go to Cana'an, the Jewish people's mass exodus out of Egypt, the first and present exile of the Jewish people from the Land of Israel, all the times that we were kicked out of different countries (England, Spain, etc.), the boat fulls of Jewish immigrants that set off for a new life in America, the countless that were forced out of their homes and into small cramped ghettos and concentration camps, the many who decided to take a stand against religious opression in Communist Russia and were sent off to die in Siberian labor camps. We are a people that have constantly been on the road, forced to live out of a suitcase, to nourish our souls with tireless tradition, a patchwork quilt of memories, and a faith in G-d and His Torah . One story of Jewish traveling particularly stands out in my mind as an excellent example of the role of not just the Jewish people, but all of humanity as migrants in this world.
When the Jewish people were traveling through the Sinai desert for 40 years on their way to Cana'an, G-d provided them with the clouds of glory, a protecting force that provided them with manah from heaven, made sure that their clothes didn't tatter, and shielded them from the sun. The way in which this is connected to Sukkot is that the cornstalk roof is considered not just to be a symbol of thoses original clouds of glory, but to be the physical manifestation of them! What does this come to teach us? We're on a journey, whether you recognize it or it remains unspoken in the back of your mind. It's not so much a physical journey as it is a spiritual one. It's a journey away from materialism, depression, sorrow, and suffering and towards a time of peace and prosperity, brotherhood, love, happiness, a higher consciousness. This time is refered to as the age of Moshiach, the Messianic period, a time when "the lion will lay down with the lamb" and "the nations will beat their swords into ploughshares." As I've mentioned before in previous posts, we are all broken, all finite, all flawed. We make mistakes, hurt the ones we love, take things for granted, obssess over things that are petty and meaningless instead of using our energy for things that are positive and productive. All our lives we have been on this journey towards a meaningful life, this road towards the promised land. We're really only just traveling through. While we are on this journey, G-d is constantly providing for us with His clouds of glory, fixing all the cracks in our soul until we can finally become whole again and in doing so, finally come home. Have an amazingly meaningful rest of Sukkot.
All of my love,
Zach
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
A new year, a fresh start
Shalom from Jerusalem! Things have been pretty intense over here; Rosh Hashanah was incredible and was then followed by an incredible week of teshuvah (look at my previous posts for an explanation of teshuvah). As many of you know, tonight (Jewish days start at night) is Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year. Much like Tisha b'Av, for 26 hours Jews will abstain from marital relations, applying lotions, wearing leather shoes, bathing, and most importantly, they will be fasting. Now, the main difference between the two fasts (Tisha b'Av and Yom Kippur) is that on Tisha b'Av we're remembering the major calamities in Jewish history (blech, at a time like this, who could eat?) and on Yom Kippur, we're privy to the highest revelation of G-dliness ever (at a time like this, who WANTS to eat?!?!) By refraining from very physical acts and pleasures on Yom Kippur, we're transcending the finite and taking on the status of angels, setting ourselves up for what could be, if utilized properly, an incredibly holy day. But what exactly does it mean to utilize it properly? Does it mean going to synagogue all day, moaning and groaning about not being able to eat, standing up and sitting down constantly, rubbing your sore and aching back or throbbing headache, and half-heartedly giving "lip service"? Or is it something deeper, something that calls for concentration, requires not only the body, but soul; something more essential? It seems that in order to fully realize and appreciate Yom Kippur, we must first know a little something about what the day is really about. As I stated in my previous post, although the ones required to observe the mitzvot and go to syangogue are Jews, you don't need to be Jewish in order to take advantage of what this day has to offer.
It says in the Talmud (Jewish rabbinic text) that there are ten days of teshuvah between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, but any person who knows a little bit about dates would realize that there are actually seven days between the two holidays. What gives? Is it ten or seven? Well, the truth is that it's both. Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are three of the ten days, making them days of teshuvah, but they each have something special that sets them apart from the other ten days, which means that they are both within and outside of the chronological ten days. What makes them so special? On Rosh Hashanah, we declare Hashem as King; we see ourselves as just a little piece in a vast portrait of reality. On Yom Kippur, we transcend normal reality, entering into a realm outside of space and time where it's just us and Hashem. On this level, no good deed or sin could have any affect and it is because of this, the fact that everything is perfect, unchanging, and untouched, that we are atoned for all of our sins. This past week has been part of the ten days of teshuvah, days in which we are encouraged to do more mitzvot, connect to what Hashem really wants of us, take stock of all the things that we may have done that weren't so nice, and make resolutions to change for the future. In order to illustrate this concept, there is a wonderful story that I recently heard that I'd like to share with you.
There was once a chasid who approached is rebbe and asked him "Rebbe, why is it that on eruv Yom Kippur (the hours before the holiday) chasidim have a big seudah (festive meal)?" His understanding was that Yom Kippur is a very serious holiday and that any pre-holiday eating shouldn't go much beyond eating bread and water in a corner of a room, trembling in fear. His Rebbe told him "Go to the next town over and observe the first house that you find. There, you will see why chasidim eat a seudah before the holiday." So the chasid traveled to the house in the town. When he got there, he observed through the window a man sitting at a table near the fire place. "Hashem," the man said. "it's almost Yom Kippur. I know that I haven't always done right by You, but You should know that I really do love You. I would never intentionally hurt You and if I ever did during the year, I'm so sorry for all the pain that it caused. I just wanted to tell You..." The man then reached into the desk drawer and produced a big, thick book. Opening the book, he pointed to the first line and said "On this day, I didn't prayer with proper kavanah (intention). And then on this day, I spoke gossip. There was also this day when my kashrut observance was a bit questionable. And on this day..." The man had taken stock of EVERY single transgression or sin that he had commited the entire year!
After reading through the entire book, the man closed the book and reached into the desk drawer again. "But You know Hashem," he said as he produced another book (this one was a bit smaller). "There have been times during the year that I really haven't understood what You were trying to tell me. There was this one time when my wife broke her leg; what did she deserve that for? She's an incredibly righteous woman! And also during the winter, by son became incredibly ill and almost died. What did he do to deserve that, he's only an innocent child! There was also this large business investment that I made earlier that seemed to be reliable, but in the end, caused me to lose more money that I could have made!"
The man paused and closed the book before getting to carried away. "Listen, there's been things in my life that I haven't quite understood." He glanced at the book of his sins. "But then again, I haven't even come close to doing what is expected of me. I have an idea," The mean gathered both of the books together. "how about we forget these books, just start with a clean slate, a fresh start. What do You say?" The man then turned to the fireplace and threw both of the books into the fire, watching them burn along with all of the sins and misunderstandings of his past year. The man got up and, with a big smile on his face, said "NOW I'm ready for a seudah!"
What's the whole point of this INCREDIBLY lengthy story? We're not so great; maybe we spoke too much gossip or didn't speak up when people were being spoken ill of, maybe we were to quick to judge others without any consideration to our own finitude, maybe we didn't give the extra change back when the cashier made a mistake. Sure we've made mistakes, but no one's perfect. But then again, this year wasn't so great either; maybe our wallet was stolen or we missed out on an opportunity to make a profit, maybe we came down with a bad case of mono, which took us out of commission for a month; maybe our friend was in a near-fatal car accident. In the end, it all belongs to the past; there's always more money to be made, opportunities to make up missed work, time to heal seemingly unhealable wounds. We have a choice: do we decide to arrogantly clutch on the past, attaching ourselves to it out of some misplaced need for stability or do we decide to let go, let the past remain the past and do the only healthy thing, move on? This is what Hashem offers us on Yom Kippur. We've all sinned, we've all fell regret, we've all made ammends to those who we've hurt, and we've all resolved to change; on Yom Kippur, Hashem wipes away all of our blemishes and helps us progress by giving us another chance. By revealing our perfect and unchanging essence for 26 hours, Hashem burns away all of our impurities and makes us into the pure, flawless gold that we were before and have always been. So whether you're Jewish or non-Jewish, fasting or trying as best as you can, going to synagogue for all of the services or just popping in and out, try keeping Yom Kippur and what it's all about in your head and guarantee that you will have a more meaningful day than you've had in a while. Wishing you all a sweet new year and may you be sealed in the book for life, prosperity, health, and happiness. Have a meaningful Yom Kippur observance.
All of my love,
Zach
It says in the Talmud (Jewish rabbinic text) that there are ten days of teshuvah between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, but any person who knows a little bit about dates would realize that there are actually seven days between the two holidays. What gives? Is it ten or seven? Well, the truth is that it's both. Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are three of the ten days, making them days of teshuvah, but they each have something special that sets them apart from the other ten days, which means that they are both within and outside of the chronological ten days. What makes them so special? On Rosh Hashanah, we declare Hashem as King; we see ourselves as just a little piece in a vast portrait of reality. On Yom Kippur, we transcend normal reality, entering into a realm outside of space and time where it's just us and Hashem. On this level, no good deed or sin could have any affect and it is because of this, the fact that everything is perfect, unchanging, and untouched, that we are atoned for all of our sins. This past week has been part of the ten days of teshuvah, days in which we are encouraged to do more mitzvot, connect to what Hashem really wants of us, take stock of all the things that we may have done that weren't so nice, and make resolutions to change for the future. In order to illustrate this concept, there is a wonderful story that I recently heard that I'd like to share with you.
There was once a chasid who approached is rebbe and asked him "Rebbe, why is it that on eruv Yom Kippur (the hours before the holiday) chasidim have a big seudah (festive meal)?" His understanding was that Yom Kippur is a very serious holiday and that any pre-holiday eating shouldn't go much beyond eating bread and water in a corner of a room, trembling in fear. His Rebbe told him "Go to the next town over and observe the first house that you find. There, you will see why chasidim eat a seudah before the holiday." So the chasid traveled to the house in the town. When he got there, he observed through the window a man sitting at a table near the fire place. "Hashem," the man said. "it's almost Yom Kippur. I know that I haven't always done right by You, but You should know that I really do love You. I would never intentionally hurt You and if I ever did during the year, I'm so sorry for all the pain that it caused. I just wanted to tell You..." The man then reached into the desk drawer and produced a big, thick book. Opening the book, he pointed to the first line and said "On this day, I didn't prayer with proper kavanah (intention). And then on this day, I spoke gossip. There was also this day when my kashrut observance was a bit questionable. And on this day..." The man had taken stock of EVERY single transgression or sin that he had commited the entire year!
After reading through the entire book, the man closed the book and reached into the desk drawer again. "But You know Hashem," he said as he produced another book (this one was a bit smaller). "There have been times during the year that I really haven't understood what You were trying to tell me. There was this one time when my wife broke her leg; what did she deserve that for? She's an incredibly righteous woman! And also during the winter, by son became incredibly ill and almost died. What did he do to deserve that, he's only an innocent child! There was also this large business investment that I made earlier that seemed to be reliable, but in the end, caused me to lose more money that I could have made!"
The man paused and closed the book before getting to carried away. "Listen, there's been things in my life that I haven't quite understood." He glanced at the book of his sins. "But then again, I haven't even come close to doing what is expected of me. I have an idea," The mean gathered both of the books together. "how about we forget these books, just start with a clean slate, a fresh start. What do You say?" The man then turned to the fireplace and threw both of the books into the fire, watching them burn along with all of the sins and misunderstandings of his past year. The man got up and, with a big smile on his face, said "NOW I'm ready for a seudah!"
What's the whole point of this INCREDIBLY lengthy story? We're not so great; maybe we spoke too much gossip or didn't speak up when people were being spoken ill of, maybe we were to quick to judge others without any consideration to our own finitude, maybe we didn't give the extra change back when the cashier made a mistake. Sure we've made mistakes, but no one's perfect. But then again, this year wasn't so great either; maybe our wallet was stolen or we missed out on an opportunity to make a profit, maybe we came down with a bad case of mono, which took us out of commission for a month; maybe our friend was in a near-fatal car accident. In the end, it all belongs to the past; there's always more money to be made, opportunities to make up missed work, time to heal seemingly unhealable wounds. We have a choice: do we decide to arrogantly clutch on the past, attaching ourselves to it out of some misplaced need for stability or do we decide to let go, let the past remain the past and do the only healthy thing, move on? This is what Hashem offers us on Yom Kippur. We've all sinned, we've all fell regret, we've all made ammends to those who we've hurt, and we've all resolved to change; on Yom Kippur, Hashem wipes away all of our blemishes and helps us progress by giving us another chance. By revealing our perfect and unchanging essence for 26 hours, Hashem burns away all of our impurities and makes us into the pure, flawless gold that we were before and have always been. So whether you're Jewish or non-Jewish, fasting or trying as best as you can, going to synagogue for all of the services or just popping in and out, try keeping Yom Kippur and what it's all about in your head and guarantee that you will have a more meaningful day than you've had in a while. Wishing you all a sweet new year and may you be sealed in the book for life, prosperity, health, and happiness. Have a meaningful Yom Kippur observance.
All of my love,
Zach
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Reflections on the year past and on the year to come
Shalom everyone! Sorry for the large gap of time between my last blog post and now. For those of you who might not know, these past 29 days, we have been observing the Jewish month of Elul, the last month on the Hebrew calendar. Elul is a month of spiritual stock taking, contemplation & meditation, introspection, and big life questions, resolutions, and goals. Elul, in hebrew, is actually an anagram for "Ani l'dodi v'dodi li" roughly translated, "I am to my beloved and my beloved is to me." Other than being a verse that is recited at weddings, it is meant to express the inherent relationship between Hashem (G-d) and Yisrael (us). "I am to my beloved" indicates that we take a step towards Hashem, going out to meet Him, initiating the relationship, while "and my beloved is to me" indicates a reciprocal aspect of the relationship, Hashem extending his hand towards us, embracing us with a shining and gracious face. The symbolism of relationships isn't a mistake; the holidays coming up are all meant to symbolize Hashem's marriage to the Jewish people (Rosh Hashanah is the engagement, Yom Kippur is the wedding, etc.) Now, while Elul, Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur are all Jewish observances/holidays, this does not mean that only Jews can partake of the amazing energy of this time.
Reflect on this past year; is there anyone that you deeply hurt? Can you think of something that you regret doing? Is there anything that you wish you had done, yet didn't do? Missed opportunities? This is the time to recognize those regrets and to resolve to change. This is called teshuvah, commonly translated as "repentance" yet literally meaning "return". This begs a very good question: return to what? How did I ever get lost? How do I return? What does all of this mean? Every creature on this Earth has a connection to G-d. He created us, gave us life, gives us everything that we have, and continuously keeps us in existence. If you've read any of my past blogs, you can get a clearer picture of my views on Hashem, but if you're pressed for time, then just know that Hashem is not some seperate entity pelting down Divine punishment for our actions. Hashem is deeply integrated into reality, in fact, Hashem IS reality. All of everything within the finite, infinite, and beyond the infinite is Hashem; there is nothing else but Him LITERALLY.
So if that's the case, then why don't I see G-d? Why don't I think about G-d? How can I live my life without ever even thinking about G-d or recognizing His existence? Because that's the nature of this world. Hashem created us in His image; from Hashem's point of view, there is nothing else but Him, ergo, we are the central focus of our lives. This world was created to be a finite expression of a beyond infinite reality; Hashem's essence is concealed within the illusion of our percieved reality, thus making it possible for us to never recognize His existence. Also, since Hashem gave us free will, His revealed existence in this world would defeat the whole purpose of our ability to choose. So with all of this complex information shoved into our brains, we are now able to truly understand what it means to return: to return to Hashem and to return to ourselves. Since our "selves" are part of the larger "Self" that is Hashem, then returning to ourselves i.e. living a more G-dly life and G-d conscious life is both returning to our true selves, as well as returning to Hashem. *PHEW*
What I hope everyone can take from this is as follows: This is the time to partake of that act of returning. We all have deficiencies, we all are lacking something, we all are broken. There is no person on Earth that does not make a mistake or is free of any blemish or flaw. Hashem- timeless, boundless, perfect reality- is the only consistent thing in this world. By returning to Hashem, by connecting to Him on a deeply personal level, we connect to our true selves, which is to be vessels for G-dliness in a world seemingly devoid of it. What does that mean in practicality? It means being the best person you can be. It means living up to your full potential as a human being. It means looking at another person, seeing that same G-dliness present in them, and learning from it that we are not here to struggle, despair, fight, or hate, but we are here to embrace, unite, labor, and love (throw back to Rabbi Schwab). It's not about turning over a new leaf and becoming a new person, it's about returning to who you've really been all along. All it takes is one step towards Hashem and He'll take care of the rest for you. Wishing you all an amazingly sweet and happy New Year full of health, happiness, success, friendship, and love.
All of my best,
Zach
Reflect on this past year; is there anyone that you deeply hurt? Can you think of something that you regret doing? Is there anything that you wish you had done, yet didn't do? Missed opportunities? This is the time to recognize those regrets and to resolve to change. This is called teshuvah, commonly translated as "repentance" yet literally meaning "return". This begs a very good question: return to what? How did I ever get lost? How do I return? What does all of this mean? Every creature on this Earth has a connection to G-d. He created us, gave us life, gives us everything that we have, and continuously keeps us in existence. If you've read any of my past blogs, you can get a clearer picture of my views on Hashem, but if you're pressed for time, then just know that Hashem is not some seperate entity pelting down Divine punishment for our actions. Hashem is deeply integrated into reality, in fact, Hashem IS reality. All of everything within the finite, infinite, and beyond the infinite is Hashem; there is nothing else but Him LITERALLY.
So if that's the case, then why don't I see G-d? Why don't I think about G-d? How can I live my life without ever even thinking about G-d or recognizing His existence? Because that's the nature of this world. Hashem created us in His image; from Hashem's point of view, there is nothing else but Him, ergo, we are the central focus of our lives. This world was created to be a finite expression of a beyond infinite reality; Hashem's essence is concealed within the illusion of our percieved reality, thus making it possible for us to never recognize His existence. Also, since Hashem gave us free will, His revealed existence in this world would defeat the whole purpose of our ability to choose. So with all of this complex information shoved into our brains, we are now able to truly understand what it means to return: to return to Hashem and to return to ourselves. Since our "selves" are part of the larger "Self" that is Hashem, then returning to ourselves i.e. living a more G-dly life and G-d conscious life is both returning to our true selves, as well as returning to Hashem. *PHEW*
What I hope everyone can take from this is as follows: This is the time to partake of that act of returning. We all have deficiencies, we all are lacking something, we all are broken. There is no person on Earth that does not make a mistake or is free of any blemish or flaw. Hashem- timeless, boundless, perfect reality- is the only consistent thing in this world. By returning to Hashem, by connecting to Him on a deeply personal level, we connect to our true selves, which is to be vessels for G-dliness in a world seemingly devoid of it. What does that mean in practicality? It means being the best person you can be. It means living up to your full potential as a human being. It means looking at another person, seeing that same G-dliness present in them, and learning from it that we are not here to struggle, despair, fight, or hate, but we are here to embrace, unite, labor, and love (throw back to Rabbi Schwab). It's not about turning over a new leaf and becoming a new person, it's about returning to who you've really been all along. All it takes is one step towards Hashem and He'll take care of the rest for you. Wishing you all an amazingly sweet and happy New Year full of health, happiness, success, friendship, and love.
All of my best,
Zach
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
taking a moment to recognize the presence of the Shechina
So I just got back from this wedding that I went to tonight. I rushed back from Tzfat, did my laundry, took a quick shower, and practically jumped into the cab; I had been waiting for this all week. It was the wedding of these two wonderful people, Ronnie and Nili. I just met Ronnie a couple of weeks ago and everyone from Mayanot was invited. I'm SO glad that I went. the chupa (wedding ceremony) was the most literally THE MOST beautiful thing that I've ever seen. There were all different types of Jews; chasidic, non-observant, ones wearing streimels, once with long peyot, knit yamulkas, etc. When I was watching everything go on, the kallah (bride) circling the chasan (husband) seven times, the rings, seven brachot (blessings), breaking of the glass; everything done with incredible meaning, intention, emotion, holiness. The chasan, swaying back and forth with religious ecstacy, lost his composure at times, burying his face in his hands and sobbing. The kallah, her face shrowded behind the veil, taking in deep breaths and smiling when she had some sort of collectedness. People blowing shofars, playing guitars and violins, singing, dancing, crying. Clusters of grapes dangling from the chupah. The one leading the ceremony, Nili's brother, asked us to pause for a moment to recognize the presence of the Shechina, the feminine face of Hashem, the very presence of Hashem. Closing my eyes, listening to the faint sounds of distant sung melodies, freely strummed guitar, violin drones, the underlying murmer of voices, all interplaying with one another, I heard the collage of Hashem's symphony. Opening my eyes, seeing the vibrant colors of the flowered vines, the blend of different types of people, embracing, swaying, dabbing at the tears of joy in their eyes, closing their own eyes to drink in the moment, I saw Hashem's masterpiece. The crowd was united, witnessing the beautiful, blessed union of two people, starting their holy home of Torah and G-dliness; we were one, vessels for the Shechina, conduits for Hashem. We were actualizing the presence of G-d on Earth. The glass was broken in commemoration of the destruction of the Temple, yet also to break free from a previous life of seperateness into wholeness. We danced throughout the night and I, for the first time in my life, experiences being b'simcha, full of joy, pure unbridled joy.
Zach
p.s. sorry for the cheesiness/melodrama
Zach
p.s. sorry for the cheesiness/melodrama
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
First post in a while: Isralight program, week in Tzfat, Elul introspection
Hi all! Sorry for the long break, I've been VERY busy with lots of different things, but don't worry, I won't talk your ear off (or type or eyes off, I guess) So Mayanot summer semester came and went like a flash. It was really great, just what I needed at that time, and I'm incredibly excited to go back for the year-long plunge. After Mayanot, I ended up going on this ten day learning/traveling program in the Old City of Jerusalem called Isralight. I can't even really explain it other than by saying that it taught me how to:
a) look at Judaism and at G-d in a completely different way
b) answered a lot of questions that I'd had about seemingly unsettling/contradictory issues that I had with Torah
c) Helped me come closer to a loving relationship with G-d
Pretty much stated in an incredibly summarized, condensed version, G-d or Hashem is not some guy in the sky pelting down divine retribution at us; that is a severe misconception formed from Western culture. Hashem is infact EVERYTHING (and not the other way around G-d forbid, we're not G-d since that would be idol worship *tsk tsk*). However, while we are not G-d, we are a part of G-d, an aspect of G-d, the manifestation of G-d's free will/ability to choose. Hashem is the greater self and thus, by tuning into the will of Hashem (Torah), we in turn tap into that greater self that we are all apart of. It was explained to me as a good form of self centerdness, by seeing everyone as being a part of that larger self and looking out for that self through caring for others. Like I said, it's an incredibly condensed, rich, dense version of ten days of intense learning and living (contact me if you want more details on what I learned)
After Isralight, I spent two days back at Mayanot just knocking around the zoo and then went to Tzfat for the three day klezmer festival. It was pretty awesome; the performances were out of this world, but being in Tzfat by myself was at times a bummer. However, with this new found view on Hashem, the loneliness challenged me to tap into that higher self and to realize that we are never truly alone even when we are by ourselves. During the days of the festival, I went to some AMAZING art galleries. Tzfat opened up my eyes in regards to creativity and how that relates to the Divine. Hashem created us in His image and in doing so, gave us the ability to create. The fact that art exists is absolutely mind blowing. I mean, think of it, we take some colored oily stuff, smear it on a white piece of cloth stretched out over a wooden frame, and we suddenly make that quantum leap from the finite to infinite possibility. It's such a crazy concept. And to think that Hashem created us, the world, and everything else; we truly are like pieces of art in the largest art gallery ever!
Lastly, the month of Elul (the last month in the Jewish calendar) just started last tuesday, the day that I happened to arrive in Tzfat. During this time, it is common practice for people to do spiritual stock taking i.e. figure out your strengths, weakness, where you're lacking, how you can improve upon it, what you intend to do to improve upon it, etc. Simply put, it's like making a laundry list of yourself, yet then again, things aren't always so simple in Judaism. There's tons of customs such as listening to the Shofar (ram's horn) blast every morning at davening, reciting psalm 27 twice a day for the month of Elul, we switch up our greetings from a simple "shalom" or "shalom aleichem" to "ketiva v'chatima tova" translated loosely "may you be inscribed and sealed for a good year". If observed properly (or some what properly in my case) it can be incredibly meaningful. This past week in Tzfat has seemed like an eternity because I've learned so much about myself, where I am right now, what I need to do, etc. I've never felt so connected in my life. This has really been such a crazy year; I think that anyone who saw my transformation during it can attest to that. There's been definite ups and downs to it, I can't even imagine what's in store for me this year.
So with that I wish you all a fond farewell, much love, and ketiva v'chatima tova,
Zach
a) look at Judaism and at G-d in a completely different way
b) answered a lot of questions that I'd had about seemingly unsettling/contradictory issues that I had with Torah
c) Helped me come closer to a loving relationship with G-d
Pretty much stated in an incredibly summarized, condensed version, G-d or Hashem is not some guy in the sky pelting down divine retribution at us; that is a severe misconception formed from Western culture. Hashem is infact EVERYTHING (and not the other way around G-d forbid, we're not G-d since that would be idol worship *tsk tsk*). However, while we are not G-d, we are a part of G-d, an aspect of G-d, the manifestation of G-d's free will/ability to choose. Hashem is the greater self and thus, by tuning into the will of Hashem (Torah), we in turn tap into that greater self that we are all apart of. It was explained to me as a good form of self centerdness, by seeing everyone as being a part of that larger self and looking out for that self through caring for others. Like I said, it's an incredibly condensed, rich, dense version of ten days of intense learning and living (contact me if you want more details on what I learned)
After Isralight, I spent two days back at Mayanot just knocking around the zoo and then went to Tzfat for the three day klezmer festival. It was pretty awesome; the performances were out of this world, but being in Tzfat by myself was at times a bummer. However, with this new found view on Hashem, the loneliness challenged me to tap into that higher self and to realize that we are never truly alone even when we are by ourselves. During the days of the festival, I went to some AMAZING art galleries. Tzfat opened up my eyes in regards to creativity and how that relates to the Divine. Hashem created us in His image and in doing so, gave us the ability to create. The fact that art exists is absolutely mind blowing. I mean, think of it, we take some colored oily stuff, smear it on a white piece of cloth stretched out over a wooden frame, and we suddenly make that quantum leap from the finite to infinite possibility. It's such a crazy concept. And to think that Hashem created us, the world, and everything else; we truly are like pieces of art in the largest art gallery ever!
Lastly, the month of Elul (the last month in the Jewish calendar) just started last tuesday, the day that I happened to arrive in Tzfat. During this time, it is common practice for people to do spiritual stock taking i.e. figure out your strengths, weakness, where you're lacking, how you can improve upon it, what you intend to do to improve upon it, etc. Simply put, it's like making a laundry list of yourself, yet then again, things aren't always so simple in Judaism. There's tons of customs such as listening to the Shofar (ram's horn) blast every morning at davening, reciting psalm 27 twice a day for the month of Elul, we switch up our greetings from a simple "shalom" or "shalom aleichem" to "ketiva v'chatima tova" translated loosely "may you be inscribed and sealed for a good year". If observed properly (or some what properly in my case) it can be incredibly meaningful. This past week in Tzfat has seemed like an eternity because I've learned so much about myself, where I am right now, what I need to do, etc. I've never felt so connected in my life. This has really been such a crazy year; I think that anyone who saw my transformation during it can attest to that. There's been definite ups and downs to it, I can't even imagine what's in store for me this year.
So with that I wish you all a fond farewell, much love, and ketiva v'chatima tova,
Zach
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Missing Ithaca and my past
Pretty straight forward blog title. I'm listening to all this music that has a connection to my past in Ithaca i.e. James Taylor, Simon & Garfunkle, etc. I'd say that I'm afraid of changing, but I'm not. Without change, there'd be no life. I also know that I bring my memories with us where ever I go, I just wish that I could experience them again. It almost seems unfair to have memories; when we think about them, we experience them as if they're happening in real time, but as soon as we realize that it's not the case, then that little piece of us connected to the memory is dragged back to the past with it, leaving us incomplete. The funny thing is that this time a year from now, I'll feel the same way about this moment. When it comes down to it, I guess there's two ways of looking at life similar to a glass half empty/half full approach: life is either a series of memories that are recollected when we leave this world or a perpetual present, constantly moving forward, evolving, changing. I can't go back to relive the past and I'm not particularly anxious to get to the future, all I have is now and although it will be just another memory come tomorrow, there will always be a new "now" to experience.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Why Care?: The Meaning Behind the Tisha b'Av Observance
This year, I'm in Jerusalem for Tisha b'Av. For those of you who don't know what that means, Tisha b'Av is considered the saddest day of the year in Judaism; it commemorates all of the tragedies that befell the Jewish people, mainly the destruction of the First and Second Temple, or Beit Hamikdash. There are many people who still, two thousand years after the last destruction, take on the observances of mourning. For twenty-five hours, people do not eat or drink. They don't bath. They don't wear leather shoes. They don't greet each other. They don't learn Torah. They don't apply ointments or deodorant. They don't have marital relations. Now the obvious question that one would and should ask is that after two millenia, why go through all this trouble? People die, cities are besieged and conquered, civilizations fall; this is the nature of things. Even if I am a Jew and my ancestors were among those slain or exiled, why should I inconvenience myself over something that happened to the distant generations long since passed? Here I am in the 21st century, a free-thinking member of society; any feeling that I experience from the events of Tisha b'Av are unnoticable, unpercieved; a faint ripple spread out by the fallen stones in the recesses of history. Why Care? I would venture to say that you a very good reason to.
Every year during the Passover seder, Jews around the world recount the story of the Exodus from Egypt, another event from an almost forgotten past. At the seder, we say that in every generation, each person must feel as if they themselves emerged just now from Egypt. How is this so? We are all slaves in the desert of our minds, a psychological prison enforced by the brutal task master of our addictions, habits, fears, and anxieties. When we come together as one people to celebrate our redemption, we are celebrating the transcendence that we could achieve through dedication, perserverance, and the grace of G-d today. At Shavuot, the holiday commemorating the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, we stand at the recitation of the ten commandments from the Torah. By doing this, we symbolically recognize that these laws are not some fossilized remains of a dead culture, but the thriving and vivifying force ever-present in our lives as human beings today. On Shabbat, we take a day of rest to not only remember G-d's resting from creation, but also to recognize the constant and ongoing creation of the universe today . In short, by keep these traditions alive, we are personally recognizing the same presence found behind the letter of the law in our very lives.
Tisha b'Av, however, is somewhat different. Instead of commemorating a miraculous event through celebration and feasting, we commemorate a tremendous tragedy through mourning and contemplation. How is the destruction relevent in our lives? Because we recognize that it could happen again. We know that the kohanim (priests) of the second Temple observed Tisha b'Av in commemoration of the first Temple; how could this be so? The Temple was already rebuilt in all it's glory! They observed the day as a time of prayer, recognizing that the destruction hadn't even been one hundred years earlier and that it could happen again. Sadly, it certainly did happen again, a pattern of repetitive destruction found as a theme throughout Jewish history. The Holocaust wasn't so long ago, not even seventy-five years ago, yet sadly, even that is becoming a forgotten memory. Living in America, one might not be able to see or feel the present possibility of physical destruction, but in Israel, the threat of annhilation from nations that want you wiped off the map is present everyday. As I said before, though, this only deals with the physical annhilation. The destruction of the Temple was much more than just the razing of a building, it was the dismemberment of a way of life, a near collapse of the Jewish soul. What is to be said about the threat of spiritual annhilation?
Many Jews that I've come into contact with are ashamed of being Jewish, simply put. They're either ashamed or they are forgetting what it means to be a Jew. Being Jewish is so much more than just receving present on Hanukkah or eating matzah ball soup on Passover, it's a hidden mystical beauty, an abstract complex of emotions and devotion, a passionate and involved relationship with the infinite and unfathomable Divine. Many people don't know this, nor care to know this; they have become comfortable in this illusory facade of materialism that we call "reality". We go through our lives a puppet in a pantomime, looking to the magazines, T.V. screens, and celebrities to follow by example in what we percieve as life. One need only to take the first step out of the candle-lit cave to see the blazing, brilliant light of the sun.
This is also why we observe Tisha b'Av; because in the future, it will no longer be an observance of mourning, but a celebration of life, the arrival of something much bigger than iphones and realty show break-ups, a transcendence of the physical and an immersion in the hidden spiritual realty; in short, an awakening in global consciousness. One need only look around with the right lens to see the destruction present all around us. If by setting aside one day out of the year to recognize that personal destruction, then imagine how much creative power we could be capable of. So whoever or wherever you are, let's try to rebuild what we've lost, let's come together to bring the beauty and glory of the past here into the present. It is only then that we'll see time as merely a barrier through which belief can break.
Every year during the Passover seder, Jews around the world recount the story of the Exodus from Egypt, another event from an almost forgotten past. At the seder, we say that in every generation, each person must feel as if they themselves emerged just now from Egypt. How is this so? We are all slaves in the desert of our minds, a psychological prison enforced by the brutal task master of our addictions, habits, fears, and anxieties. When we come together as one people to celebrate our redemption, we are celebrating the transcendence that we could achieve through dedication, perserverance, and the grace of G-d today. At Shavuot, the holiday commemorating the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, we stand at the recitation of the ten commandments from the Torah. By doing this, we symbolically recognize that these laws are not some fossilized remains of a dead culture, but the thriving and vivifying force ever-present in our lives as human beings today. On Shabbat, we take a day of rest to not only remember G-d's resting from creation, but also to recognize the constant and ongoing creation of the universe today . In short, by keep these traditions alive, we are personally recognizing the same presence found behind the letter of the law in our very lives.
Tisha b'Av, however, is somewhat different. Instead of commemorating a miraculous event through celebration and feasting, we commemorate a tremendous tragedy through mourning and contemplation. How is the destruction relevent in our lives? Because we recognize that it could happen again. We know that the kohanim (priests) of the second Temple observed Tisha b'Av in commemoration of the first Temple; how could this be so? The Temple was already rebuilt in all it's glory! They observed the day as a time of prayer, recognizing that the destruction hadn't even been one hundred years earlier and that it could happen again. Sadly, it certainly did happen again, a pattern of repetitive destruction found as a theme throughout Jewish history. The Holocaust wasn't so long ago, not even seventy-five years ago, yet sadly, even that is becoming a forgotten memory. Living in America, one might not be able to see or feel the present possibility of physical destruction, but in Israel, the threat of annhilation from nations that want you wiped off the map is present everyday. As I said before, though, this only deals with the physical annhilation. The destruction of the Temple was much more than just the razing of a building, it was the dismemberment of a way of life, a near collapse of the Jewish soul. What is to be said about the threat of spiritual annhilation?
Many Jews that I've come into contact with are ashamed of being Jewish, simply put. They're either ashamed or they are forgetting what it means to be a Jew. Being Jewish is so much more than just receving present on Hanukkah or eating matzah ball soup on Passover, it's a hidden mystical beauty, an abstract complex of emotions and devotion, a passionate and involved relationship with the infinite and unfathomable Divine. Many people don't know this, nor care to know this; they have become comfortable in this illusory facade of materialism that we call "reality". We go through our lives a puppet in a pantomime, looking to the magazines, T.V. screens, and celebrities to follow by example in what we percieve as life. One need only to take the first step out of the candle-lit cave to see the blazing, brilliant light of the sun.
This is also why we observe Tisha b'Av; because in the future, it will no longer be an observance of mourning, but a celebration of life, the arrival of something much bigger than iphones and realty show break-ups, a transcendence of the physical and an immersion in the hidden spiritual realty; in short, an awakening in global consciousness. One need only look around with the right lens to see the destruction present all around us. If by setting aside one day out of the year to recognize that personal destruction, then imagine how much creative power we could be capable of. So whoever or wherever you are, let's try to rebuild what we've lost, let's come together to bring the beauty and glory of the past here into the present. It is only then that we'll see time as merely a barrier through which belief can break.
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