When A Place Makes You Cry

I'm sitting here on a flight to Tel Aviv, taking a group of students on a trip to tour Israel and look at potential yeshivot and midrashot for next year. It's the middle of the night and I can't sleep. I have so much on my mind but my thoughts keep coming back to the theme of Where Home Is.

The truth is I've been thinking about this theme for a few weeks now based on a couple of books I've been reading. In The Geography of Bliss, Eric Weiner travels the world in search of the happiest country. It's a fascinating book in general, exploring what makes people happy. But one of the side themes he explores is how people define the concept of being Home. Is it being with likeminded people who share a common culture (ex. at a Red Sox game at Fenway Park)? Is it being with family (home is where the heart is)? Is it being where you spent your formative years (your hometown/your parents' house)? Or conversely, as one person he interviewed put it, is it being in the place you want to finish out your years and be buried?

I've also been reading a book by Daniel Gordis called Home To Stay, about his family's Aliyah to Israel. And he writes something which really got me thinking. He says maybe home is the place that makes you cry when you think about it. In other words, you might love America, feel very comfortable there, and appreciate the freedoms and opportunities it provides, but does it touch your heart and make you feel the things Eretz Yisrael feels?

This perspective kind of speaks to me. Over the last few months we have been creating a new home for our family in Houston, after nine great years in Boca, where we felt very at home. And while our transition is going well, thank God, it takes time to really feel at home with the geography, the culture, the weather, the people, etc... But the truth is that although we miss our friends in Boca a lot, we're not homesick for it, because we have each other. To me, I guess Home is the place from which it hurts to be apart. Boston will always be my hometown. Manhattan will always be the place we started our marriage. Boca will always be the place we grew our family. And Houston will bring it's own special feelings. But at the end of the day none of those places make me homesick.

There are only two possible places that make me homesick. One is being apart from wherever my immediate family is right now. And the other is being apart from the place (Eretz Yisrael) where my extended family comes from and is destined to return. I do believe that we should live in Israel, that it is our homeland, that after two thousand years it is a miracle and a blessing that we can come home. And yet, I'm not yet there, because I haven't figured out yet how to make a living there as a Rabbi. This painful feeling of not living where I wish I could is good, because it reminds me not to get too comfortable in Galut, as our People have done in the past, but to keep trying to figure out a way to make the dream a reality. In the meantime, I look forward to the sun rising in a few minutes and to seeing the coastline as we come home, albeit for just a couple of weeks. Here's hoping that this trip inspires the students to feel the same love and personal connection to the Land and the People of Israel that I feel. And that it inspires me to remember where my family's home should be. Because when it's all said and done, it's the only place in the world that makes me cry.

The Courage to Retreat

I was thinking about the concept of Teshuva (as one tends to do during the Aseret Yemei Teshuva) and what it's all about. Many define it as Repentance. Some refer to it as Return. I thought of another definition recently. Maybe Teshuva is about Retreat. I don't mean it in the sense of running away from something scary. In fact, Yom Kippur kind of gets a bad rap as a scary day when we beg God to have mercy. The truth is that Yom Kippur is the happiest day of the year. It's the day we are given a new chance, a chance to symbolically enter the Mikva and remove all the spiritual dirt. And it's also the day we received the 2nd Luchot after theSin of the Golden Calf.

A couple of weeks ago we took our Middle School students away for a 2 day Retreat at a campsite. It was a great trip, full of team building and group bonding. And it also got me thinking about this concept of Retreat. Maybe Retreat is about taking a step back from our day to day routine, and looking at the bigger picture. It's about seeing the forest for the trees. You see, we are all so busy with our lives and our day to day stuff that we often lose sight of where we are heading. Which, if you think about it, is kind of crazy. It would be like driving on the highway and only knowing where each new exit is but not our ultimate destination.

Maybe Teshuva is about retreating from our routine and taking a day to ask ourselves, what is this life I am living really all about? What am I trying to achieve? Where am I headed and am I on the right track to get there? Sometimes we ask ourselves these questions at this time of year and realize that we headed off course a little, like a sailboat caught in the crosswinds and currents. And so we use our compass, our spiritual GPS, and readjust our coordinates, so that we can get back on track.

This Yom Kippur, I wish each of us the wisdom and courage to retreat, to step back from everything we assume is working, and from everything we are used to and comfortable with, and to reassess if we are heading where we really want to be. Gmar Chatima Tova...

The Ultimate Tour Guide

Erev Rosh Hashana brings with it so many thoughts and emotions. Tonight is the beginning of a new year, full of potential and unknown. For some people this can feel exciting; for others terrifying. As I reflect back on the past year I had no idea, sitting in shul last Rosh Hashana, that I would find myself, one year later, living in Houston, TX! It wasn't even on my radar screen. Looking forward, who knows what the coming year will bring? Hopefully only exciting opportunities, and happy memories.

Now, I'm the type of person who likes to have it all figured out. I like to know where I'm going, how I get there, and how long the journey will take. [And if there are some nice spots to see along the way I usually like to have those planned out in advance as well]. But maybe Rosh Hashana night is about reminding ourselves to trust Hashem that it'll all work out in the end. That even though we don't always know where we're going, it's ok because He does.

This reminds me of a song by Eef Barzelay called "I Love the Unknown." It includes the following lyric: "They ask him, "Hey where is this bus going?" And he said, "Well, I'm really not sure." "Well then how will you know where to get off?" And he said, "The place with the most allure!"

When we recite Malchuyot in shul, when we hear the pure sound of the Shofar, let's remind ourselves that Hashem has a great itinerary planned for us. And that even when we feel lost or stuck in the mud, even when the road detours from the planned route, it's not setting us back, but rather helping us realize that there was something we were supposed to pick up along the way that we haven't picked up yet. A sight that we don't want to miss.

This Rosh Hashana night, I remind myself to trust Hashem, who never steers me wrong. And to embrace the new paths waiting to be discovered. As I eat the simanim (the symbolic foods) I will remember that there are signs posted everywhere in my life directing me and helping me along. And as I bless my children, with my eyes closed, I will try to give them the internal compass called Emunah (faith) they will need to navigate the journey of their lives as well.

Wishing each of us a year of health, happiness, and growth. May we appreciate the blessings of the coming year and not take them for granted. And may we approach any challenges that may come with the faith that they are meant to help us grow stronger.

Caps For Sale

So it's been a while since my last blog post. Sorry. I guess I've been pretty busy over the last couple of months getting settled in Houston and at school. Thank God, it's going very well so far. The kids are happy. The house is great. The people are nice. And the work is interesting.

Over the summer, work was all about getting settled, meeting people, learning how everything works, and getting everything ready for the start of school. Last week we had teacher meetings and then, on Thursday, the 1st day of school. I thought I had been working hard all summer, but once the teachers, students, and parents arrived that's when things really started getting busy. I feel like I am going around from one person to the next solving problems. And they're all legitimate requests. It's just that as soon as one thing is crossed off my list three more pop up.

One friend of mine said it sounds like being a fireman who constantly has to put out flames before they develop into fires. I prefer to think of it like juggling, though, because not only are there many things to manage at once. But even after you deal with something there is often a follow up required to make sure the plan is working.

In a certain sense the job so far reminds me of one of my childhood favorites, Caps For Sale. Like the salesman in the story, I wear many different hats at school. If I would start listing the various tasks I have been involved in for the school so far this would be a very long blog post. It's good because it keeps things interesting. But it makes for a very broad job description.

It's also like that story because, like any good salesman, I have to stick with the message even on the days that the sales are slow, and I have to stay composed even on the occasions that the customers are challenging. In fact, one of the main lessons of that story is that others tend to react to us based on our own behavior. So I have been trying to set an example of dedication, excitement, friendliness, calm, and teamwork.

Overall, I am enjoying the job so far and am learning a lot. I work with some amazing people and though the hours are long and the tasks keep growing, I come home each day with a smile on my face and drive to work each morning eager to see which caps I will be wearing that day.

A Hesped For A Friend

I woke up today to some sad news. An old friend, Dan Singer, passed away. Baruch Dayan HaEmet. Dan was a great guy. He was always so friendly and kind. We were neighbors for a few years in Boca. He would come over to learn some Torah and we would have a great schmooze. He would help with anything: building a Sukkah, changing a car battery, making his signature magnets for a business, giving out head flashlights during a hurricane. Always with a sincere smile on his face. I remember that Dan was always prepared for anything. He had his house wired and stocked for any kind of emergency and you knew that Dan was going to be there for you in case of emergency. And he was even there for the animals. I remember Dan and Terry shipping in baby ducks which they literally fed and raised until the ducks got too loud. I also remember how active he was. He would take the kids biking, kayaking, etc... all the time. I even remember them learning how to kayak in the community pool. Every week it was a new adventure to some nature preserve or Everglades sanctuary. He spent a lot of time with his kids and loved them dearly. But there are two things which stick out most in my mind most when I think about Dan. One is how he ran away from Machloket. I remember how when someone offended him somehow he would be Maavir Al Midotav and not make a scene. The 2nd thing I remember most about Dan is how he had this uncanny ability to learn and remember new people's names (Something I am working hard at these days). We both moved to Boca at the same time. Every Shabbat I would come home from shul and feel overwhelmed by all the new names of the people I had met. And I might actually remember 2-3. Dan would come home and tell me about 10 different people he had met. And not just their names but specific details about them. He made it look so easy! But the truth was that not only was he a sharp mind. He also just really cared and when he asked you about yourself it wasn't just small talk. He really wanted to make a connection. Dan, I'm so sorry that I wasn't more supportive during hard times and more present in your life after you left Boca. I was not as good a friend to you as you were to me. I hope you can forgive me. I will try to take the lessons I learned from you and be a better person. You will not be forgotten.

Belonging

So many thoughts on this 4th of July 2012, our 1st day in Houston. What common thread do they share? I was thinking about the theme of belonging. We had a great 1st day in our new hometown. I was welcomed warmly in shul. We were invited to 2 different 4th of July BBQ's. We sampled one of the kosher restaurants and explored some of the new hood. We found Walmart and got the twins their 1st big kid bikes. And most importantly, we received the keys to our new house. The kids couldn't get over how much room there was! So far so good. And yet, of course it will take time to really feel like we belong here and are not just visiting. When our moving truck finally arrives next week (we hope) and we start to unpack we will feel like we belong in the house. And when we meet more people and learn our way around it will feel like we really belong in town. It might take a little longer though for it to settle in that we live in TX :-) Driving here from FL this week really made it sink in how huge this country is. When we finally entered TX the sign said something like 850 miles to El Paso on the other side of the state. I read recently that TX is bigger than France! And I was told at the BBQ tonight that if you want to drive from here to Los Angeles you are already halfway there when you exit TX! The truth is that Houston is pretty cool, and TX is pretty cool, and in general, living in America is pretty awesome (got to love the Boston Pops on the 4th!). But as much as I love this country and am truly grateful for all the freedoms and opportunities it offers, I remind myself that ultimately I believe that we really belong in Eretz Yisrael, our true home. So... As we start to settle in to our new home in Houston I am excited knowing that, like a good pillow, it will only get more and more comfortable. And it occurs to me that maybe belonging is more about feeling like your presence is needed. Since tomorrow is my 1st day at Beren I suspect that with hard work and dedication I will start to feel like I belong very soon indeed.

The Passenger In My Car

In Shema we are told to speak about Torah (ודברת בם) at home (בשבתך בבתך), on the road (ובלכתך בדרך), and when we go to bed and wake up (ובשכבך ובקומך). Today I had the chance to fulfill ובלכתך בדרך while driving. Since we are driving 2 cars I have been on my own in one car while Elisheva drives the other. However, in a certain sense I have not been alone. I have been listening to Rav Aharon Rakeffet's series on the history of Rav Soloveichik. It's great stuff if you love Jewish History, are a student of The Rav, and enjoy beautiful Divrei Torah. And it's especially great for me to listen to my Rebbe, Rav Rakeffet, speaking about his Rebbe, The Rav. Although it has been 11 years since I sat in Rav Rakeffet's shiur in Gruss Kollel in Israel, listening to the shiurim brings me right back and connects me to my Rebbe. It just goes to show you the impact that a Rebbe can have on a student even years down the line.

The Journey Begins

Today, day 2 of our drive to Houston, we drove through 4 different states (FL, AL, MS, LA) on our way from Talahassee to New Orleans. On the one hand, I'm kind of tired from all the driving and just want to get there already. On the other hand, if you know me you know that I love traveling and seeing new places. We stopped today in Mobile, Alabama (yes, I sang the Minyan Man song - "stepped off the bus in Mobile, Alabama...") and went to the USS Alabama museum. The Alabama was a huge combat battleship that fought during WWII. It was very cool to walk through its many massive levels. The kids especially loved it. They also had a submarine that we walked through called the USS Drum. And there were many cool planes And helicopters as well, including a Stealth Aircraft. Anyway, all in all, a couple of hours well spent. When you have the opportunity to see or do something that you might never have again you have to take advantage. In the afternoon we made our way to New Orleans. We had a nice dinner in a kosher restaurant called Casablanca (they did not serve kosher jumbilaya). Tomorrow morning we plan on doing one of those horse and buggy tours in the French Quarter before heading out for the final 6 hour stretch to Houston. Oh, one other thing before I sign off for the night. At some point in the Panhandle of FL we entered Central Time Zone. That's right: from now on we'll be an hour behind all our east coast friends and family. Just another thing to get used to among many. The adventure continues...

Gan Eden

A few years ago I pulled into a gas station here in Boca and came across a FL license plate that said Gan Eden. It's funny, and I can see why that person loves it here. But one of the side effects of this move has been to remind us not to get too comfortable or settled, no matter how nice our Galut at times may be. Our real home of course is in Eretz Yisrael. In about an hour we will pull out of Boca and begin the drive to Texas. We were supposed to leave last Monday but were delayed due to all the flooding in the FL Panhandle from Tropical Storm Debbie. Anyway, I want to give one last Bracha before we depart. Boca may not be Gan Eden, but it has always been a Gan, a lush garden where people grow. We have seen so many individuals and families grow here, and thank God, we have grown here tremendously as well. So my bracha to all of us is to never stop growing. Enjoy the Eden, but never forget the Gan.

The Invisible Bridge

One last thought, if I may, about leaving Boca. We were honored at BRS yesterday with a Seudah Shlishit in our honor. It was very nice. Rabbi Goldberg said really nice things about us and many people gave us warm brachot and good wishes. After Shabbat we were presented with a beautiful Challah Tray as well. I thanked the community for everything they have done for our family and shared the following idea.

Last summer, while leading a group of teens on a 6 week tour of Europe and Israel, I had a powerful experience which I shared with the kids. We were at the Kotel on the last Friday night of our trip. There were thousands of others around us all davening and singing with their groups. We had to sing Lecha Dodi at the top of our lungs, and even then it was hard to hear. You could feel the Kedusha, the holiness, of the moment, praying with so many others in the holiest spot on earth. I was thinking about how powerful this moment was and how I wished the kids and I could feel this close to Hashem every Friday night. So I stopped the davening for a moment and I said the following.

"Guys, I want each of you to close your eyes right now. I want you to picture your community at home. Picture the seat where you daven in shul on Friday night. Picture your family's shabbat table. And now I want you to build an invisible bridge to that scene. So that next week, when you are back home, and every week after that, you can close your eyes again and cross that invisible bridge back to this moment right now. Feel the power of this moment and take it with you to every shabbat going forward!"

I shared this story with our community here in Boca and I said that I believe it is possible to build an invisible bridge through Time or Geography to connect back to people, places, and moments that have inspired you and shaped who you are. Elisheva and I are moving on physically from Boca, but we have built an invisible bridge connecting us back to this community. We will forever remain connected to Boca and will close our eyes and feel the love from this community we have been priviledged to call home whenever we need a little inspiration. May we all build bridges to the places and moments that have inspired us.

A Hug From The Future

Yesterday we moved out of the house we have been living in for the last 9 years. It was a hard day. In fact, this whole move has been harder than I expected. On the one hand, we are so excited for our new opportunity in Houston. It seems like a great community, and I'm so excited to join the amazing team at Beren. But at the same time, Boca has been our home for 9 years and it is a community that we love. We feel very at home here, have so many close friends here, and have raised our children here. As we walked through our empty house one last time last night I was reminded of the day we moved in 9 years ago. I was such a different person then. And our family was different as well. Shira was only 4 when we moved in. Now she is a bright, kind, mature 13 year old. Rina and Simcha were dreams of ours, that to be perfectly honest, I didn't always believe we would ever see fulfilled. Thank God, we have grown so much here in so many ways. We have been through very hard times here, and very happy times as well. We have so many special memories here, and although we are leaving Boca, Boca will never ever leave us. I've been thinking about what it is about Boca that I'm going to miss the most. What is it that's making this separation so hard? Some of it may just be normal anxiety about the unknown. But I feel that it goes much deeper than that. Is it the house itself? Not really. We have had many great memories in that house and will always remember it. But our new house in Houston is even nicer. Is it the neighborhood? While we will miss the palm trees and the beach, Houston is also very pretty and has a similar climate. At the end of the day, it's the people and the relationships that we will miss. Even with Facebook, and Skype, and Southwest, it's not the same as seeing people day to day. And I'm not only talking about our close friends with whom I'm sure we will stay close forever. It's even those people you see in shul that you look up to and have learned from, that have given you a hug or a kind word during tough times, and with whom you have shared so much. It helps me appreciate, at least a little, of what Avraham must have been feeling when told to leave his land, his birthplace, and his father's house. For Rina and Simcha, this community has literally been מולדתך, it is all they have ever known. For Shira, it has been בית אביך, the place she grew up. And for us, it has been ארצך, the place we felt at home. So I guess that's why this separation has been hard for us. It feels like we belong in both places and we don't want to let go of either one. It actually fits with a Dvar Torah I heard from a friend (Rabbi Neil Fleischman) about this week's parsha (Korach). The Mishnah in Avot says that the Machloket (dispute) of Korach was the classic example of a dispute that is not L'sheim Shamayim, for the sake of heaven. But the Mishnah says that if a Machloket is L'sheim Shamayim then Sofa L'Hitkayem, it will endure. Why would you want a dispute to endure? The answer may lie in the word Machloket itself. It comes from the word Chelek, a portion. If a dispute is really for the sake of heaven then each side knows that they only have a portion of the truth. And that they need each other to complete the puzzle. That's the type of dispute that we want to last. The kind that keeps people connected to each other even when they are apart. And that's how we feel right now. We have had this internal Machloket between staying in Boca and moving to Houston. We feel connected to both. And therefore Sofa L'Hitkayem, we pray that our relationship with both will endure forever. So what do we take with us from Boca? Beautiful relationships. Amazing memories. An understanding of what the word Community really means. And the inspiration to try to bring the sense of Achdut (unity) Kavod (mutual respect and tolerance for differences) and Areivut (shared responsibility) with us wherever we go. They say that when you depart from someone you should leave them with a Bracha, a blessing. To Boca, all I can say is thank you for all you have done for our family and may you continue to inspire many others. As for ourselves, the best Bracha we got was from my sister Rachel who said that she wished that the me from a year from now, who knows how right this move was for our family, and how happy we will be in Houston, could give a hug to the me from right now. I know she is right and I look forward to that hug. Anyone who knows me knows I love books (more on that in future posts). We have just completed an amazing (and long) chapter in the book of our lives. I can't wait to see how the next chapter goes. If it's anything like the last one then we'll be very happy indeed.

Our Life In A Truck

Yesterday was one of those days you will never forget. The movers came and packed the truck with all our life's possessions. Even after weeks of sorting, sifting, throwing away, selling, and giving away, we still had about 250 boxes of books, toys, papers, dishes, etc... When did we get so much stuff? And how did we fit it into a 3BR condo for 9 years? As the moving truck was pulling away, all I could think about (aside from how physically and emotionally exhausted I felt) was how none of that comes with us to the next world. As I said to my wife Elisheva at the time, we should live and be well for many more years, with God's help. But when the time comes all we will be able to take with us is our Maasim Tovim, our good deeds. I hope the truck with our Maasim Tovim will be even more packed than the huge truck that pulled away yesterday.

My Last Day As A Teacher

Today was my last day as a classroom teacher. I stress classroom teacher because I believe we are all teachers in our everyday lives, and because no matter what I do I will always give shiurim and share the joy of learning with others. Anyway, like I said, today was my last day. I've been a teacher in various schools in NJ, NY, Yerushalayim, and FL for 14 years. But this summer (actually 2 weeks from today) my wife Elisheva and I, together with our 3 kids, are moving to Houston, TX to become the Judaic Principal of Beren Academy. This is an amazing opportunity, one which I have been preparing for all these years. I am very excited, and have started this blog to chronicle my journey, both geographic and professional. So why was today my last day as a teacher? I actually taught my last class last week. But as any teacher knows, report cards always loom even after the students are off to summer vacation. So there I was, sitting at my computer typing in my last few comments. And I was thinking about the real point of report card comments. Obviously, a major goal is to give feedback about the student's strengths and weaknesses. This helps the student, the parents, and future teachers. I thought about each of my 8th grade talmidim and wrote appropriate comments that reflected their grade. I was about to finish when I went back and added one last line for each student. I wrote "Good luck in high school. I will always remain your Rebbe and look forward to hearing great things." Because at that moment, as I was putting the final touches on another year of teaching, I reminded myself that you never really stop being a teacher. Like a farmer who does not see the fruits of his labor right away, a teacher sometimes does not see the impact of his efforts until years down the line. I may not see those kids in the room every day anymore, but I will forever be their Rebbe. Not only in the sense that I will always be there for them if they need me. But also in that I will be following their progress with sincere interest and expecting great things from them. So, I guess my 1st reflection as I head off on this new adventure is that although today was my last day as a classroom teacher, I will never stop being a Rebbe. I thank all the hundreds of students whom I have had the priviledge of learning with over the years. And I leave you with the most important lesson I have been trying to teach you all along: I believe in you.