Sunday, May 23, 2004
Sparks From Israel
The Body of Israel
One of the first things I noticed when I arrived here was that people are much closer. Even strangers sit close together in mini-van taxi’s tapping each other on the shoulders and passing money from hand to hand to the driver. Good friends walk arm in arm in the street. People hug each other and call each other ‘achi’, which translated means ‘my brother’. But even brothers in Canada don’t act so close.
When you get even closer to the heart and soul of the nation, by the generator that sits waiting to be rebuilt in Jerusalem – the ‘Kotel’ that closeness is felt even deeper. One of the most amazing sights to see at the Kotel on a Friday night is all of the many factions of Israel that oppose each other, dancing together arm in arm. Holding hands in the same circle are fur hats, black hats, knitted kippas, black kippas, paper kippas, soldiers with guns on their backs, Sephardic, Ashkenazi, converts, white faces, black faces, oriental faces, hippies, businessmen, visitors, kabbalists, left wingers, right wingers, religious and not religious. All dancing together in a trance that goes beyond the body and beyond our understanding.
On festival days when thousands of Cohens meet at the Kotel to give their blessings to the people you really feel the body of Israel because your body is pressed next to thousands of other bodies. You can drop your siddur, and another hand will catch it, your hat can fall, and another hand will return it, you can think a thought, and the man next to you who just flew three thousand miles from New York was brought there just to give you the answer. No wonder the birds go mad, flying in circles around the courtyard above this soup of Jews. They must see us too as one divine body, the molecules that make up the original man ‘Adam’ next to the divine presence.
It seems to me that part of the process of Pesach that climaxes with Shavuot is the recognition that we are one body. Through the seven weeks we fine-tune that body in all of its parts by reciting the sefirah. By the final sefirah, which is Malchut (Kingship), we come to an even higher understanding. We are kings who control our bodies and direct them in different ways. We are judges who can punish or forgive, be satisfied with little, accepting of much, and discerning in judgment within and without. We are kings and sons of kings. We are also servants to master, students of a teacher, and a teacher to other students.
This Shabbat I wondered what was the connection between the Parasha Bamidbar and its Haftorah and how are they both connected to Shavuot, which falls at this time? I found an answer in a commentary in my Chumash. Rav Kaminetsky writes that the census taken of the people when they left Egypt was of the nation as a ‘whole’. The census taken in the book of Bamidbar which list the numbers of each tribe, and their leaders could only be done once the Nation understood that it’s central focus was the Mishkan (the Tabernacle).
By drawing attention to various tribes and leaders of tribes in the formative stage of the Exodus, there might have been a danger of Nationalism or Factionism, but now that it was understood that their was one aim and goal, then their individual roles in achieving the collective goal could be expressed in a healthy way. In the center of the Mishkan itself was the Menorah whose candles pointed towards the central candle.
In the Haftorah the Navi talks about a future time when we are gathered together as a people and when we no longer think of Hashem as ‘my Master’, but rather ‘my Husband’. I suppose if one looks from an outside faction, inward, he sees a world of service, with rules and regulations. However, if one stands by the generator, where all factions become one, then one becomes a bride and feels a closeness and completeness that’s hard to explain. He looks outward as he loses himself and gains himself at the same time. On one hand he is a small part of the collective body of Israel, but on another hand, he is a significant part with unique gifts that only he can bring and add to this great Nation.
I wonder if Hashem looks down from above, seeing everyone dancing under His light and sometimes thinks to Himself. What a beautiful bride, what a great body, and she’s clever, too!
The Body of Israel
One of the first things I noticed when I arrived here was that people are much closer. Even strangers sit close together in mini-van taxi’s tapping each other on the shoulders and passing money from hand to hand to the driver. Good friends walk arm in arm in the street. People hug each other and call each other ‘achi’, which translated means ‘my brother’. But even brothers in Canada don’t act so close.
When you get even closer to the heart and soul of the nation, by the generator that sits waiting to be rebuilt in Jerusalem – the ‘Kotel’ that closeness is felt even deeper. One of the most amazing sights to see at the Kotel on a Friday night is all of the many factions of Israel that oppose each other, dancing together arm in arm. Holding hands in the same circle are fur hats, black hats, knitted kippas, black kippas, paper kippas, soldiers with guns on their backs, Sephardic, Ashkenazi, converts, white faces, black faces, oriental faces, hippies, businessmen, visitors, kabbalists, left wingers, right wingers, religious and not religious. All dancing together in a trance that goes beyond the body and beyond our understanding.
On festival days when thousands of Cohens meet at the Kotel to give their blessings to the people you really feel the body of Israel because your body is pressed next to thousands of other bodies. You can drop your siddur, and another hand will catch it, your hat can fall, and another hand will return it, you can think a thought, and the man next to you who just flew three thousand miles from New York was brought there just to give you the answer. No wonder the birds go mad, flying in circles around the courtyard above this soup of Jews. They must see us too as one divine body, the molecules that make up the original man ‘Adam’ next to the divine presence.
It seems to me that part of the process of Pesach that climaxes with Shavuot is the recognition that we are one body. Through the seven weeks we fine-tune that body in all of its parts by reciting the sefirah. By the final sefirah, which is Malchut (Kingship), we come to an even higher understanding. We are kings who control our bodies and direct them in different ways. We are judges who can punish or forgive, be satisfied with little, accepting of much, and discerning in judgment within and without. We are kings and sons of kings. We are also servants to master, students of a teacher, and a teacher to other students.
This Shabbat I wondered what was the connection between the Parasha Bamidbar and its Haftorah and how are they both connected to Shavuot, which falls at this time? I found an answer in a commentary in my Chumash. Rav Kaminetsky writes that the census taken of the people when they left Egypt was of the nation as a ‘whole’. The census taken in the book of Bamidbar which list the numbers of each tribe, and their leaders could only be done once the Nation understood that it’s central focus was the Mishkan (the Tabernacle).
By drawing attention to various tribes and leaders of tribes in the formative stage of the Exodus, there might have been a danger of Nationalism or Factionism, but now that it was understood that their was one aim and goal, then their individual roles in achieving the collective goal could be expressed in a healthy way. In the center of the Mishkan itself was the Menorah whose candles pointed towards the central candle.
In the Haftorah the Navi talks about a future time when we are gathered together as a people and when we no longer think of Hashem as ‘my Master’, but rather ‘my Husband’. I suppose if one looks from an outside faction, inward, he sees a world of service, with rules and regulations. However, if one stands by the generator, where all factions become one, then one becomes a bride and feels a closeness and completeness that’s hard to explain. He looks outward as he loses himself and gains himself at the same time. On one hand he is a small part of the collective body of Israel, but on another hand, he is a significant part with unique gifts that only he can bring and add to this great Nation.
I wonder if Hashem looks down from above, seeing everyone dancing under His light and sometimes thinks to Himself. What a beautiful bride, what a great body, and she’s clever, too!
Sparks From Israel
The Workings of Heaven
They say there are many gates in Heaven. These gates open and close all day long receiving guests and prayers and sending billions of angels on deliveries with little motorcycles like they have in Tel Aviv. At different times in our lives we may feel imprisoned, or between doorways, or going from one chamber to the next.
I read once that one who does charity, and especially one who ‘feeds’ the community, is judged mercifully because of their special merit and the gateways of heaven open easily for them. I think others too must have read this, because even in Tel Aviv, which to many is synonymous with ‘secular’ Judaism, there are many people who make banquets in synagogues every Shabbat for the congregants. And so this begins the story of a shul Gabbai, one who sets the table for those who come to pray.
As the chulent was being passed around he announced to everyone to listen closely to a true story that had happened to him recently. ‘He was the Gabbai of one of the oldest synagogues in Tel Aviv. Every Friday afternoon when he arrived to prepare the synagogue for Shabbat, he found on the doorstep a box full of catered food for the congregation. One Friday he arrived slightly earlier and for the first time he saw a young man placing the box there. He called to the man, and the startled man rushed off. He said, ‘wait, what’s your name, we can at least mention your name at the Torah reading’. The man pointed upward, as if to say, ‘He knows my name’, and fled.
A few weeks later, a friend of his called. He wanted to do a mitzvah that day and he asked his Gabbai friend to come to a shiur with the 95-year-old Rabbi Rokovesky. The Gabbai answered he would like to, but he couldn’t because that day he was scheduled to appear in court. (A few years before he became a Gabbai of a shul, he was a secular Tel Aviv restaurant owner, whose business went bankrupt.) The judge had no mercy on him, and demanded he pay $5000 immediately or be thrown into prison. He frantically left messages with his friends, but to no avail.
In the end, he was forced to tell the judge he could not pay, and was then taken to prison. He passed through doorway after doorway, each one being locked with yet another key and led through many different corridors by different guards until the last guard who wore a kippa opened the final door of an overcrowded holding cell. The Gabbai appealed to him, that he was a Baal Teshuva (a newly observant Jew). How could he observe Shabbat here? The guard hesitated then said ‘follow me’ as he took the prisoner through another series of doorways to another guard. ‘He’s a good guy, put him in the dati cell.’ He said to the other guard.
When the door shut behind him, he looked at the room full of prisoners, and one stood out from among them. It was the man who brought food to the synagogue every Friday. He had run away so quickly he never saw the Gabbai’s face, but the Gabbai recognized him. ‘You’re the man who brings food to our shul each Shabbat, now I can thank you.’ The man’s face turned red. The Gabbai looked for a place to sit, but there was none. The man motioned for him to follow, as he led him to another room inside the cell. The room was full of cans of food and there was a table and chair. ‘Are you hungry?’ said the man. The Gabbai hadn’t eaten all day.
After serving him a three course meal, he asked him if he wished to shower and shave before Mincha. The Gabbai thanked him and after being fed and refreshed proceeded with his prisoner friend to Mincha. After the prayers, his name was called by one of the guards. ‘Your free’, he was told.
Standing outside of the prison perplexed, the Gabbai looked down at his watch and realized there was still time to make it to the shiur. When he arrived it was explained to him, that when the Gabbai’s friend appeared at the shiur distraught, the Rabbi asked everyone to donate what they could, and in addition he used the funds dedicated for re-tiling the synagogue floor. They rushed down to the prison and miraculously released him. In the end, the Gabbai did the re-tiling job and so it all worked out.
What is the meaning of this story? Number #1 – Even when times are difficult and judgments are cruel, one who tends to the needs of the community is given a special status above and gateways are opened below. Number #2 – We all go through periods of judgment, but the judge above can override the judge below reducing a sentence of 3 years to 3 hours. Number #3 – Blessed is the ‘true’ judge, who gives, and takes, and restores to each man according to divine justice.
I suppose it was decreed that he go to jail, but only long enough, to have a good meal, take a shower, pray Mincha, and be back in time for a Torah lesson – I’m sure he got one. Who was the guardian angel in prison? This remains a mystery. And so, these are some of the workings of heaven.
The Workings of Heaven
They say there are many gates in Heaven. These gates open and close all day long receiving guests and prayers and sending billions of angels on deliveries with little motorcycles like they have in Tel Aviv. At different times in our lives we may feel imprisoned, or between doorways, or going from one chamber to the next.
I read once that one who does charity, and especially one who ‘feeds’ the community, is judged mercifully because of their special merit and the gateways of heaven open easily for them. I think others too must have read this, because even in Tel Aviv, which to many is synonymous with ‘secular’ Judaism, there are many people who make banquets in synagogues every Shabbat for the congregants. And so this begins the story of a shul Gabbai, one who sets the table for those who come to pray.
As the chulent was being passed around he announced to everyone to listen closely to a true story that had happened to him recently. ‘He was the Gabbai of one of the oldest synagogues in Tel Aviv. Every Friday afternoon when he arrived to prepare the synagogue for Shabbat, he found on the doorstep a box full of catered food for the congregation. One Friday he arrived slightly earlier and for the first time he saw a young man placing the box there. He called to the man, and the startled man rushed off. He said, ‘wait, what’s your name, we can at least mention your name at the Torah reading’. The man pointed upward, as if to say, ‘He knows my name’, and fled.
A few weeks later, a friend of his called. He wanted to do a mitzvah that day and he asked his Gabbai friend to come to a shiur with the 95-year-old Rabbi Rokovesky. The Gabbai answered he would like to, but he couldn’t because that day he was scheduled to appear in court. (A few years before he became a Gabbai of a shul, he was a secular Tel Aviv restaurant owner, whose business went bankrupt.) The judge had no mercy on him, and demanded he pay $5000 immediately or be thrown into prison. He frantically left messages with his friends, but to no avail.
In the end, he was forced to tell the judge he could not pay, and was then taken to prison. He passed through doorway after doorway, each one being locked with yet another key and led through many different corridors by different guards until the last guard who wore a kippa opened the final door of an overcrowded holding cell. The Gabbai appealed to him, that he was a Baal Teshuva (a newly observant Jew). How could he observe Shabbat here? The guard hesitated then said ‘follow me’ as he took the prisoner through another series of doorways to another guard. ‘He’s a good guy, put him in the dati cell.’ He said to the other guard.
When the door shut behind him, he looked at the room full of prisoners, and one stood out from among them. It was the man who brought food to the synagogue every Friday. He had run away so quickly he never saw the Gabbai’s face, but the Gabbai recognized him. ‘You’re the man who brings food to our shul each Shabbat, now I can thank you.’ The man’s face turned red. The Gabbai looked for a place to sit, but there was none. The man motioned for him to follow, as he led him to another room inside the cell. The room was full of cans of food and there was a table and chair. ‘Are you hungry?’ said the man. The Gabbai hadn’t eaten all day.
After serving him a three course meal, he asked him if he wished to shower and shave before Mincha. The Gabbai thanked him and after being fed and refreshed proceeded with his prisoner friend to Mincha. After the prayers, his name was called by one of the guards. ‘Your free’, he was told.
Standing outside of the prison perplexed, the Gabbai looked down at his watch and realized there was still time to make it to the shiur. When he arrived it was explained to him, that when the Gabbai’s friend appeared at the shiur distraught, the Rabbi asked everyone to donate what they could, and in addition he used the funds dedicated for re-tiling the synagogue floor. They rushed down to the prison and miraculously released him. In the end, the Gabbai did the re-tiling job and so it all worked out.
What is the meaning of this story? Number #1 – Even when times are difficult and judgments are cruel, one who tends to the needs of the community is given a special status above and gateways are opened below. Number #2 – We all go through periods of judgment, but the judge above can override the judge below reducing a sentence of 3 years to 3 hours. Number #3 – Blessed is the ‘true’ judge, who gives, and takes, and restores to each man according to divine justice.
I suppose it was decreed that he go to jail, but only long enough, to have a good meal, take a shower, pray Mincha, and be back in time for a Torah lesson – I’m sure he got one. Who was the guardian angel in prison? This remains a mystery. And so, these are some of the workings of heaven.
Sparks From Israel
What’s Not in the Paper
There was a local protest at city hall tonight in our little town. On the Internet this was an international headline. Why? I really have no clue. Are we really that special that the whole world is interested in our local affairs? Anyway, I thought I would walk down and see if they really did have all the numbers that they said they did, and to check out the left-wing chicks.
I didn’t start out till 11p.m. so that I wouldn’t be adding my number to this appeasement demonstration, but if it was anything like the Yesha rallies, it would still be going strong at 11pm on a Saturday night.
To my surprise there was no security to go through because the blockades had already been taken down. Rabin Square was practically empty, except for a bunch of litter from the demonstration and of course big Peace Now signs that were still hanging. As I approached the center I noticed a group of young dosi freaks sitting in a circle with guitars playing Am Israel Chai. I thought to myself, could it be that the religious people are also with Peace Now? It didn’t quite make sense to me.
I saw one young man wearing a Peace Now T-shirt with another one wrapped around his head like a pirate. He was cleaning up and at times took a break to dance to the Jewish-hippie music. I asked him, how many people showed up? He said he was very disappointed. There were many, but then they all left so fast. They didn’t have time. I asked one of the dossi guys if they were here to support the rally. He said they were from a yishuv next to Schem, and they had come to talk to the people and explain to them that they too want peace, but abandoning their communities will not bring peace.
Of course I agreed with him and was relieved to know what they were here for. It seems elementary to me that savages who parade body parts of Jewish soldiers today, dream of Tel Aviv tomorrow. But the real war is not with the Arabs, it is within the soul of the Nation; a soul full of spiritual and emotional problems that overshadow the intellectual process. I watched the lone Peace Now ‘believer’, as he kicked a box in frustration.
True to the ideology I suppose of ‘Peace Now’ the followers didn’t have much time. Little time to rally, and little time to think things through. They just wanted there to be a temporary Peace, that didn’t interfere with their lives too much. If that meant that other Jews would be dragged out of their homes, and their communities demolished, so be it. The dossi guys also believed in miracles. They said we need our Father in heaven to come back. But their faith wasn’t haphazard, and cold-hearted. It was a well-founded belief that by reclaiming their inheritance they were obligating their father to return.
The newspapers can write all they want to about the ‘protest of the majority’, and the huge numbers of the Peace Now turnout, but theirs is a camp with no spirit, and no ideals. The future is with the handful of hippies beating their drums. Even the Peace Now devotee, who was all dressed up with no place to go, ended up dancing to their music and then sitting in a corner frustrated and confused.
If I was to base my thoughts on what is written in the papers I would think that it’s a matter of time before Israel surrenders itself to the Goliaths of the world. But I don’t read papers, I read the spirit of a people, and to me its clear that yes indeed it is a matter of time. A matter of time before the Goliaths rise up to the height of a huge wave that can only come crashing down upon the rock of Israel.
What’s Not in the Paper
There was a local protest at city hall tonight in our little town. On the Internet this was an international headline. Why? I really have no clue. Are we really that special that the whole world is interested in our local affairs? Anyway, I thought I would walk down and see if they really did have all the numbers that they said they did, and to check out the left-wing chicks.
I didn’t start out till 11p.m. so that I wouldn’t be adding my number to this appeasement demonstration, but if it was anything like the Yesha rallies, it would still be going strong at 11pm on a Saturday night.
To my surprise there was no security to go through because the blockades had already been taken down. Rabin Square was practically empty, except for a bunch of litter from the demonstration and of course big Peace Now signs that were still hanging. As I approached the center I noticed a group of young dosi freaks sitting in a circle with guitars playing Am Israel Chai. I thought to myself, could it be that the religious people are also with Peace Now? It didn’t quite make sense to me.
I saw one young man wearing a Peace Now T-shirt with another one wrapped around his head like a pirate. He was cleaning up and at times took a break to dance to the Jewish-hippie music. I asked him, how many people showed up? He said he was very disappointed. There were many, but then they all left so fast. They didn’t have time. I asked one of the dossi guys if they were here to support the rally. He said they were from a yishuv next to Schem, and they had come to talk to the people and explain to them that they too want peace, but abandoning their communities will not bring peace.
Of course I agreed with him and was relieved to know what they were here for. It seems elementary to me that savages who parade body parts of Jewish soldiers today, dream of Tel Aviv tomorrow. But the real war is not with the Arabs, it is within the soul of the Nation; a soul full of spiritual and emotional problems that overshadow the intellectual process. I watched the lone Peace Now ‘believer’, as he kicked a box in frustration.
True to the ideology I suppose of ‘Peace Now’ the followers didn’t have much time. Little time to rally, and little time to think things through. They just wanted there to be a temporary Peace, that didn’t interfere with their lives too much. If that meant that other Jews would be dragged out of their homes, and their communities demolished, so be it. The dossi guys also believed in miracles. They said we need our Father in heaven to come back. But their faith wasn’t haphazard, and cold-hearted. It was a well-founded belief that by reclaiming their inheritance they were obligating their father to return.
The newspapers can write all they want to about the ‘protest of the majority’, and the huge numbers of the Peace Now turnout, but theirs is a camp with no spirit, and no ideals. The future is with the handful of hippies beating their drums. Even the Peace Now devotee, who was all dressed up with no place to go, ended up dancing to their music and then sitting in a corner frustrated and confused.
If I was to base my thoughts on what is written in the papers I would think that it’s a matter of time before Israel surrenders itself to the Goliaths of the world. But I don’t read papers, I read the spirit of a people, and to me its clear that yes indeed it is a matter of time. A matter of time before the Goliaths rise up to the height of a huge wave that can only come crashing down upon the rock of Israel.
Sparks From Israel
Rebbe Shimon
They say there is a kosher version of everything un-kosher. And so Hashem gave us Meron- a Charedi ‘Woodstock’. The sea of people dancing by the kever of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai was so intense, it literally lifted me off of my feet and carried me like a wave.
As I approached I gazed at the moon; the same moon that shed its soft light on the hills where Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Akiva walked. Imagine the conversations between the author of the Zohar and the greatest scholar of the Talmud. The rolling hills surrounding Tzfat remember every word that was spoken and if you listen closely you can hear them.
Later a friend asked me if I said tehillim. I answered that there were so many people and so much music I actually forgot, but I did something on an even higher level. I ate schnitzel.
In the cafeteria where they were passing free food out all night I ate very well. When I noticed that they were serving soup with lots of kenaidels in them, I went back for some more food. I stuck my hand out among the five other empty bowls requesting soup, and after filling each one with soup and lots of kenaidels, he took my bowl and filled it with only soup.
I sat down and at that point realized that by visiting the tzaddik, Hashem had forgiven me for my sins. I could have easily asked for kenaidels, but this time I accepted what was given to me, and by doing so accepted the forgiveness that was being passed out like schnitzel.
[To understand the deeper significance, read my kenaidel story from Pesach.]
Rebbe Shimon
They say there is a kosher version of everything un-kosher. And so Hashem gave us Meron- a Charedi ‘Woodstock’. The sea of people dancing by the kever of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai was so intense, it literally lifted me off of my feet and carried me like a wave.
As I approached I gazed at the moon; the same moon that shed its soft light on the hills where Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Akiva walked. Imagine the conversations between the author of the Zohar and the greatest scholar of the Talmud. The rolling hills surrounding Tzfat remember every word that was spoken and if you listen closely you can hear them.
Later a friend asked me if I said tehillim. I answered that there were so many people and so much music I actually forgot, but I did something on an even higher level. I ate schnitzel.
In the cafeteria where they were passing free food out all night I ate very well. When I noticed that they were serving soup with lots of kenaidels in them, I went back for some more food. I stuck my hand out among the five other empty bowls requesting soup, and after filling each one with soup and lots of kenaidels, he took my bowl and filled it with only soup.
I sat down and at that point realized that by visiting the tzaddik, Hashem had forgiven me for my sins. I could have easily asked for kenaidels, but this time I accepted what was given to me, and by doing so accepted the forgiveness that was being passed out like schnitzel.
[To understand the deeper significance, read my kenaidel story from Pesach.]
