Sunday, September 26, 2021

My Favorite Jewish Moment Of The Year

Simchat Torah is unlike any other day of the Jewish year. We dance with the Torah, bless the children together under the Tallit, and give each member of the community an Aliyah. I know different shuls may have different minhagim. And I know that not everyone finds it easy to connect via dancing. Simchat Torah can feel, at times, a little Hefker. Some people are dancing. Others are already getting aliyot. Some attend a shiur. Others are making kiddush. Children are running around. No one seems to know exactly when Kol HaNearim will start. Like I said, Simchat Torah is different.

Growing up, there were two main things I looked forward to on Simchat Torah (other than, of course, the candy bags). Both may have been unique to our shul in Boston. One was the custom we kids had to find two men standing around during Hakafot and try to tie their Tallit strings together so that when their conversation ended and they went their separate ways their Tallitot would not go with them. The adults would shoo us away like flies, but we found great pleasure in trying to get away with this. Looking back now, I suspect there may have been a few men with a twinkle in their eye who pretended not to notice so that we could feel Simcha on this special day. The other thing we looked forward to, even though we didn't understand half the jokes, was the Meshugane Rebbe, a performance of two men in the community who did a routine from the Bimah in which one member pretended to be a visiting Rebbe who spoke only Yiddish, while the other acted as his translator. The translation never matched the Yiddish, I am told, and that's where all the jokes came from. I didn't catch the punchlines, but will never forget the image of all the grownups laughing hysterically in shul. As a kid, Simchat Torah was a clear message that Judaism is a religion of joy and that having fun, even in shul, was ok.

As I got older, however, and started to fall in love with learning Torah, I gained a very different appreciation for Simchat Torah, chaos and all. The idea of really rejoicing over the gift called Torah is something special if you allow yourself to get into it. It was most likely in Yeshiva that Hakafot really started being special. I know teenagers often have more energy than some of us adults, but letting the singing penetrate our souls, and using our entire body to celebrate Torah, brings a feeling that is hard to reach throughout the year.

But I still haven't gotten to the highlight of the day for me. My absolute #1 favorite moment of the Jewish year. And that is when we come back together to finish reading the Torah, and then open a 2nd Torah and start reading all over again from the beginning. It gets me every time. The special trop, the chuppah (or tallit) over the bimah, the fanfare given to Chatan Torah and Chatan Bereishit, the Chazak Chazak V'Nitchazek. I just find the entire symbolism of finishing and starting over again so powerful. Like the Hadran we recite when making a siyum, which pledges that we hope to return and learn this sefer again, Simchat Torah is a communal, even National, Siyum HaTorah, in which we celebrate everything we have learned this past year and pledge to keep learning even more deeply in the year to come.

There's a beautiful story brought down in the sefer Hegyonei Halacha (vol. 3) by Rav Yitzchak Mirsky. There was a man standing off to the side during Hakafot. The Rabbi approached him to invite him to join the dancing. But the man said, I didn't learn much Torah this year so what right so I have to dance with it like all of you? The Rabbi smiled and reminded the gentleman that there are two Chatanim on Simchat Torah. The Chatan Torah for finishing the Torah and the Chatan Breishit for starting it again. Even if you don't feel like the Chatan Torah who learned a lot, you can still be the Chatan Breishit who has hopes to start learning now.

This is why this moment is my Jewish highlight of the year. There are other great moments as well. Neilah of Yom Kippur, the Pesach Seder, Shavuot night... But on Simchat Torah, we remind ourselves that there is no such thing as ever finishing Torah, that each time we open it we find new meanings and new inspiration. So this year, try to lean into the chaos of Simchat Torah a little bit more. Tie someone's Tallit. Put a child on your shoulders and dance. And make sure to be there as we finish reading the Torah and immediately start again.

Chag Sameach

Wednesday, September 15, 2021

What Owls Can Teach Us About Teshuva (A Yom Kippur Drasha)

 I. The Shabbat Owl


A couple of weeks ago, on the last Shabbat of the year, just 3 days before Rosh Hashana, I was having a cup of coffee and reading before shul when I heard a lot of noise from the backyard. There were lots of crows flying around, which we have never seen in our yard before. And then it got even stranger. Sitting calmly in the tree, camouflaged so that we almost missed them, were two owls. That, we definitely had never seen before! The owls would occasionally swivel their heads slowly to see what was happening, but they remained otherwise as still as can be. It was amazing to see how the owls could turn their heads 270 degrees and see all around them without moving the rest of their bodies!


Since I am always trying to look for meaning in my life, I thought to myself, what are these owls here to teach me? They may not have been bringing me some mail, like in Harry Potter, but maybe they were sending me a message nonetheless. It got me thinking about my own ability to stay calm under pressure, to not allow stress from my environment to ruffle my own feathers, and to be flexible and see things from different perspectives.


We talk a lot about having a Growth Mindset (rather than a Fixed one), but are we as flexible as we think? Are we willing to try and see things from different perspectives? Or is it easier to maintain our views, our habits, and our familiar patterns? It’s true, owls have 14 vertebrae in their neck, whereas we have only 7, but maybe we too can learn to swivel and pivot a little more so that we can grow as well.



II. A Time To Pivot


The word Teshuva sometimes makes people nervous (in the same way that the word Change does). Because it implies that I have to give something up or move out of my comfort zone. It also suggests that there is something wrong with me, that I’m not good enough.


Even when we do identify an area we would like to work on, it can feel daunting to imagine all the work it would actually take to achieve the goal. So, more often than not, we resign ourselves to the status quo and assume it is too late to reinvent ourselves.


But what if Teshuva is not about change, but about returning to who we already are deep down? And what if, rather than implying a huge project, it is actually as easy as pivoting our heads, like an owl? What if changing our perspective just a little bit would help us see our lives in a completely different way?



III. Rebbe Elazar Ben Durdaya


Let me share with you an incredible story from the Talmud (Avodah Zarah 17a) about someone who was able to make a pivot that changed his entire worldview.


Chazal tell us about a man named Elazar Ben Durdaya. Let’s just say, he wasn’t a role model for others. This man, whose last name, Durdaya, means spoiled grapes, dedicated his life to pursuing pleasures of the flesh. He spared no expense or effort to live a life of debauchery and hedonism. He finally reaches a turning point where somehow he comes to the realization that he has wasted his life, and Elazar decides to do Teshuva. The Talmud recounts how he turns to the mountains and hills and asks them to intercede on his behalf, but they respond that they are busy davening for themselves. Elazar then turns to the heavens and the earth, and then to the sun and the moon, who give him the same answer. Finally, realizing that he has no one else to rely on but himself, Elazar says אין הדבר תלוי אלא בי, the matter depends only on me. He places his head between his knees, cries out from the depths of his soul, and dies. A Bat Kol, a heavenly voice, comes out and says רבי אלעזר בן דורדיא מזומן לחיי העולם הבא, Rabbi Elazar Ben Durdaya is destined for life in the World To Come.


What a powerful lesson in Teshuva! On the one hand, this story teaches us that it is never too late to do Teshuva. At the same time, it emphasizes the need for taking personal responsibility, for owning our mistakes and growing from them. We make so many excuses for ourselves in life, but only when we say אין הדבר תלוי אלא בי, the matter depends only on me, do we start to make real progress.


The name Elazar, which means God helps, reminds us that Hashem will help us in our Teshuva. Hashem tells us (Malachi 3:7) “שובו אלי ואשובה אליכם - Turn back to me and I will turn back to you. And Chazal (Yoma 38b) teach that “בא לטהר מסעיין אותו” - One who comes to be purified will be supported. But it has to start with us. 



IV. Yesh Koneh Olamo B’Shaah Achat


However, that’s not the end of the story. The Gemara concludes with the following postscript:


בכה רבי ואמר יש קונה עולמו בכמה שנים ויש קונה עולמו בשעה אחת


When Rebbe (Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi) heard this story of Elazar ben Durdayya, he wept and said: There is one who acquires his share in the World-to-Come only after many years, and there is one who acquires his share in the World-to-Come in one moment.


Why did Rebbe cry? 


Was he jealous that he had dedicated his entire life to Avodat Hashem (serving Hashem) whereas Elazar Ben Durdaya earned his share in one moment? Maybe he felt that this wasn’t fair! Similarly, this may also be why Yonah tries to run away from Nineveh. 


Or, maybe Rebbe was worried that if people see Elazar getting into Olam Habah by doing Teshuva at the last minute, they will push off doing Teshuva as well, assuming they will have the opportunity to set things straight down the road one day. To counter this attitude the Talmud (Shabbat 153a) quotes Rebbe Eliezer, who teaches that one should repent one day before his death. Asks the Talmud, but how do you know when you will die? And the answer is that we do not know when we will die, and therefore we must always be doing Teshuva.


A 3rd explanation of why Rebbe cried is quoted in the name of Rabbi Yissocher Frand, who posits that Rebbe cried because he realized from this story the power of each and every moment. If someone can earn their share in Olam Habah in one moment, that shows you the power of each moment. Rebbe may have felt a sense of loss for the moments of his life of which he did not take full advantage.


But now let’s go back and take a closer look at what Rebbe says: “יש קונה עולמו בשעה אחת,” there is one who acquires his share in the World-to-Come in one moment. Is that really true? Is it really possible to achieve your life’s mission in just one moment?


When I think of this, I think of two baseball players, both of whom are known especially for one moment in their long, successful careers. 


Sandy Koufax, a lefty pitcher for the Dodgers, who happened to be Jewish, is the youngest player ever inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. He won 3 Cy Young awards and one MVP. But he is most known for one day in 1965, when he refused to pitch in Game 1 of the World Series which fell on Yom Kippur. 


In contrast, Bill Buckner, who played 22 seasons in the majors, was an All Star, won a batting title, and had 2,715 hits, is known for a moment of baseball infamy, when a ground ball went through his legs at 1st base in Game 6 of the 1986 World Series, allowing the NY Mets to come back and defeat the Boston Red Sox (my hometown team).


It doesn’t seem fair, but nevertheless it can be true. There are cases where one moment can define a person forever.


Let me share another story with you that epitomizes this idea of “יש קונה עולמו בשעה אחת.” When I lived in Boca Raton I had the tremendous zechut of getting to know a holy man named Rabbi Eugene Klein, zt”l. Rabbi Klein was a Holocaust survivor, who lost his wife and 3 children in the Shoah. After the war, he started over in Canada, starting a new family and serving as a pulpit Rabbi for many years. I knew Rabbi Klein in his retirement years, when he still taught Torah and served as a role model for the community. One day, Rabbi Klein shared this incredible story with us that really shows the power of one moment. He was picking up his daughter from school one day and when she came to the car she had tears in her eyes. He asked her what was wrong and she said “daddy, I don’t want you to die!” Rabbi Klein, confused, said “I’m not dying! Why are you worried about this?” And his daughter responded “because in school today we learned that smoking can kill you and you smoke every day!” On the spot, Rabbi Klein took the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, tore it in half, and never touched a cigarette again the rest of his life. He just quit cold turkey, so that his daughter would not have to worry about him. Talk about being קונה עולמו בשעה אחת!



V. Shaot Zmaniyot


So here’s my big question: How does that happen? How does someone make a decision that changes the rest of their life? It’s impressive and inspiring to hear about, but it doesn’t sound like something the average person can achieve.


I’d like to suggest that the secret to success at these turning points in our lives is the secret we learned from the owl: the ability to pivot, to turn, and to rotate.


You see, while we celebrate and appreciate Moments in Judaism, our religion is really not one of Moments, but of Movement. Like the hands of a clock, which are always in motion, we are meant to be revolving, evolving, and growing at all times. And maybe that’s what the word Teshuva really means, to keep going around, to never settle and be complacent.


That’s why an hour in Hebrew is called a SHAAH. The word SHAAH doesn’t really mean hour. It means to turn. For example, at the beginning of the Torah we read about Kayin and Hevel. And the pasuk says (Breishit 4:4-5) that Hashem turned to the offering of Hevel, but not to Kayin’s: 

וַיִּשַׁע ה’ אֶל הֶבֶל וְאֶל מִנְחָתוֹ...וְאֶל־קַיִן וְאֶל מִנְחָתוֹ לֹא שָׁעָה.


You may have heard of the term Shaot Zmaniyot. Essentially, this means that in Judaism an hour is not always 60 minutes. Instead, we divide the total sunlight hours into 12 equal parts. In the summer, when the days are long, each halachic hour might last 70 minutes. In the winter, when the days are shorter, each hour might be 50 minutes.


What do we learn from this? That at different Zmanim, at different turning points in our lives, we need to SHAAH, to pivot.


A story is told about a great Sage who asked his student a question: “Tell me, what are you watching when you sit on a hillside in the late afternoon watching the sky turn from yellow to orange, then to deep purple, and finally to darkness?” ‘That’s obvious,” said the student. “You are watching the sunset." “No,” said the Sage. “You are wrong. You are not watching the sun set. You are watching the world turn.”


Life is not static. We move. We rotate. We pivot. And this is how we keep the momentum for growth going.



VI. Turning Points


We all go through turning points in our lives. The Sages teach us (Pirkei Avot 4:3) אין לך אדם שאין לו שעה, ואין לך דבר שאין לו מקום, there is no man who doesn’t have his hour, and no thing which doesn’t have a place. This is kind of the Jewish version of “everything has a time and a place.”

These milestones, or tuning points, are not always easy or fun. But they are incredible opportunities for creativity and growth. One of my favorite authors, Bruce Feiler, author of Walking The Bible, has done a lot of research about turning points. In his book Life Is In The Transitions, Feiler describes what he calls Lifequakes. These are major events in our lives that lead to transition. It can be a death or sickness in the family, losing one's job, getting married or divorced, the birth of a child… anything that causes a major change in our lives. Feiler found that we go through three to five Lifequakes in the course of our lives and each transition lasts an average of five years. Some of these lifquakes are personal and others are collective (ex. COVID). Some we choose, and others are involuntary. 


You may be thinking, “Lifequakes! That sounds very hard! You see! This is what I was afraid of when you brought up the word Teshuva!”


Yes, it can be hard. But what is hard is not the transition, or what I like to call the pivot. What is hard is starting to move if you’ve been stuck in the same position for a long time. This is what Chazal mean (Rashi Shemot 19:5) when they say “כל ההתחלות קשות”, all beginnings are hard. But once you loosen the muscles it becomes easy, natural, painless, and instinctive.


What I’m trying to say is that I think the secret to Teshuva is not becoming someone new; it is digging deeper to remind ourselves of who we already are. The light is already shining inside of us. Like the Shabbos lamps that some people have, where the light stays on the whole Shabbat, but you can twist the lid to cover or reveal the light, all we have to do if we want to reveal our inner light is twist the cover, pivot, and rotate.


Think back to a recent turning point in your life. It can be an achievement or even a failure. What did you learn about yourself? How have you grown since then?


Now think about the current Lifequake called COVID which we are all enduring together. In what ways do you see yourself, the world, life in general, differently? If you could pick one small thing to change about your life now that you have been through this what would it be?


Now try to imagine the rest of your life. Do you envision a linear path, where everything is predictable, or do you foresee Shaot Zmaniyot, opportunities for pivoting?


As long as we remember that our light never goes out, and all we have to do is turn the cover on our Shabbos Lamp, we need not fear or avoid those turning points, but instead can grow from them.



VII. Yizkor


We’re about to recite Yizkor and remember loved ones and teachers who are no longer with us. When you think of these people what do you remember? How do you feel? How did they help you grow through your turning points?


Even though we cannot see them or share a cup of coffee, we can still connect to their light. And maybe that’s why we light a yahrzeit candle, to remind ourselves of their light, but also of our own internal light that they could see even when we could not.



VII. Conclusion


It’s Yom HaKippurim, the holiest day of the year. Hashem is right here. And He has given us a gift called Teshuva.


Let’s remember today that, like the owl in my backyard, we can pivot, we can look at things with a fresh lens.


Let’s remember that if we really want to achieve our goals in life we must remember that אין הדבר תלוי אלא בי, it is up to us to make it happen.


Let’s remember that even when it seems too late to make a change, יש קונה עולמו בשעה אחת, it is possible to accomplish something amazing in each and every moment. 


Let’s remember that Judaism cares more about Movement than Moments. And that the challenge is not the transition itself; it is starting to move when you have been stuck for so long.


Let’s remember that the secret to Teshuva is not becoming someone new; it is digging deeper to remind ourselves of who we already are.


Let’s remember that we all go through Lifequakes, but that these turning points are not only challenges to overcome, but also opportunities for growth.


Let’s remember the core values our loved ones taught us and connect back to those pieces of our identity.


Let’s remember that the word SHAAH means to turn or pivot. So this afternoon, during the break, stretch your neck a little, swivel your head, and remind yourself that Teshuva doesn’t mean you have to stop being you. It just means you get to look at your life with a fresh perspective.


Let me conclude with this: my favorite line of the Avinu Malkeinu prayer is “Tehei HaShaah Hazot Shaat Rachamim V’et Ratzon Milfanecha” - May this moment (or maybe we should translate SHAAH as movement) be one of mercy and desire before you. I invite you to join me in singing this Tefilla and asking Hashem to help us stretch those vertebrae so that we can go through our own spiritual pivot this year.


Sing: “Tehei HaShaah Hazot Shaat Rachamim V’et Ratzon Milfanecha”


Wishing us all a Gmar Chatima Tova!!!

Friday, September 10, 2021

20th Anniversary of 9/11

There are certain moments of your life that stand out and, no matter how long it has been, feel like they just happened. Tomorrow is the 20th anniversary of 9/11, the day that 2,977 people were murdered in terrorist attacks right here in the United States. 20 years is a long time. The High School students I teach weren't even born yet. And yet, for me it feels like yesterday.

We were living in Manhattan at the time, in Washington Heights. Thank God, we were nowhere near Ground Zero. I was teaching in Moriah Day School and ended up getting stuck in NJ that day, as they closed the George Washington bridge to traffic. My wife was supposed to take the subway to Midtown but stayed home when she saw what was going on. I remember standing in the teacher's room after Tefilla, drinking a coffee, when a colleague came in and said that a plane had flown into the Sears tower in Chicago. Of course, it turned out to be the World Trade Center in NY. There were a lot of rumors flying around at the beginning. Parents started coming to school to pick their children up and take them home. While I do not personally know anyone who was killed that day, I think about the fact that many kids would never see their parents again.

While we were personally safe, it was, and remains to this day, incredibly shocking, sad, and scary. There were so many questions: Who did this? Why? Are there more attacks to come? Will we ever feel safe again? In the days and weeks to come, while Ground Zero continued to burn, and families searched desperately for their loved ones, letters with Anthrax were sent, causing additional panic over possible chemical attacks. Less than a month later the war in Afghanistan began. The world will never be the same.

When I think of 9/11, aside from the incredible sadness I feel for the families of the victims, I think of the courage and heroism of the first responders, who ran towards danger to save lives. And I think of the unity felt by Americans. All the divisions and arguments fell aside in the face of a common enemy/danger. I wish we could somehow feel that unity again today, without needing a tragedy to bring us together. How often we forget that, even with our differences, we are all Americans.

If you have never visited Ground Zero and the 9/11 museum I encourage you to do so. It is powerful. One cannot help but think about things like courage, sacrifice, and the preciousness of life when standing in that spot. Every name on the memorial represents a beautiful story ended in mid sentence.

So this 9/11 let's hug each other a little more. Let's teach and preach love and respect over hate and fear. Let's remember to appreciate the heroes all around us. And let's remember that what unites us far outweighs what divides us.