by Motzen | Sep 4, 2022 | Sermons
I’m sure by now you’ve seen the Pizza Hut commercial.
Certainly, the many people here today from the former Soviet Union know what I’m talking about. Da?
In 1997, Mikhail Gorbachev, who passed away this week, appeared in a Pizza Hut commercial. He and his granddaughter are seen walking into a Pizza Hut, which of course, is an American franchise that had only recently opened its doors on Russian soil. At another table in the restaurant, two men who notice him start arguing. “It’s Gorbachev! Because of him, we have economic confusion,” says one of them. His friend, clearly a lot younger, replies, “Because of him, we have opportunity!” The argument continues: “instability”, “freedom”, “chaos”, “hope”, and back and forth and back and forth.
That argument of Gorbachev’s legacy is still going on today. There are people like Vladimir Putin who despise Gorbachev’s shift to restructuring the USSR to a policy of openness, or in Russian, glasnost and perestroika (how’s my Russian accent, guys?). And others, especially many Jewish leaders, who hail him as a hero who allowed millions of Jews to go free. You’ll find some obituaries that claim that he was a visionary who saw value in democracy, and others like Natan Sharansky, who argue that he was an ardent communist who was forced to make concessions.
So as this argument is playing out in this Pizza Hut commercial, an older lady stops the two men and exclaims, “Thanks to him… we have Pizza Hut!” Which no one can argue with. And before you know it, the entire Pizza Hut is raising their glasses to toast Gorbachev… for bringing them Pizza Hut. (Only in Russia do they have alcoholic beverages in Pizza Hut.)
My initial reaction upon seeing this commercial was that this is bizarre and pathetic. Clearly, Gorbachev was in need of funds – which he was, and therefore allowed himself, he, formerly one of the most powerful people on earth, to appear in a commercial for pizza. Not even good pizza, I am told, and allow himself to be mocked.
But I thought about it some more and I realized that maybe I was mistaken, maybe this commercial can teach us a profound truth about life and about Judaism. Hear me out:
Every one of us desires to have a legacy, right? We hope that we’ll be remembered for doing something good, positive, constructive in this world. So, we build our legacy. We give donations that will ensure organizations that we value will impact people for years to come. We build families – the clearest form of legacy. We come up with ideas that will change the world, or our communities, or our workspaces. We all want to leave our mark. And that’s great and it’s important. But sometimes, it comes at a cost.
There’s a Chassidic tale of a man who had a recurring dream. He dreamt that under a certain bridge in Cracow there was a huge treasure buried. Night after night, he kept on having this dream. This guy was poor, dirt poor. He figured he had nothing to lose so he packed his bags and started travelling across Eastern Europe until finally he arrived in Cracow. He finds the bridge and starts digging.
He’s digging and digging and digging until suddenly he hears a voice yell, “Jew! What are you doing?!” He looks up, there’s a Polish soldier staring at him menacingly. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He tells him the truth. “I know this sounds crazy, but I had this recurring dream that there’s a treasure buried under this bridge. So, I travelled from my home to come here and find it.”
The soldier looks at him and then bursts out laughing. “You fool! I also have a recurring dream of a treasure buried, but it’s across the country in Berditchiv. Do you think I am going to travel there to find it?”
The Jewish man says, “Wait, where in Berditchiv?”
The soldier replies, “In this and this street and in this and this home, under the fireplace.”
Sure enough, the address the soldier gave him was his address. The man went home, dug up his fireplace and found a magnificent treasure.
You see, sometimes we are so focused on the big picture, sometimes we are so focused fulfilling our dreams and laying out our legacy, on accomplishing all of our big plans, that we ignore and lose sight of what’s right in front of us, right under our nose.
Let me ask you a question, what is the mission statement of Judaism?
There is none. (The notion that being a light unto the nations as our prime goal is simply untrue. It’s important, but it’s not the entirety of our faith.) Nowhere in the Torah does Moshe say, this is what it’s all about. This is everything. This is the big picture. Instead, we are given Mitzvos. 613 Mitzvos. In addition to the 613 Mitzvos that are in the Torah there are a gazillion Rabbinic Mitzvos. There is a big picture in Judaism, but by not laying it out in the Torah, Moishe is teaching us not to worry about the big picture, not to worry about the End of Days, about the ultimate goal of the Jewish People. Because when we do so, we sometimes lose sight of, and even worse, we sometimes trample on, opportunities that are standing right before us.
There is a Mitzvah in this week’s parsha, that we are not to cut a down a fruit-bearing tree. And we extrapolate from there, that we are not to waste anything at all. Ba’al tashchit; do not destroy things for no reason. You take an extra piece of paper towel to dry your hands, you just wasted.
And the context of this Mitzvah is critical. It is describing the Jewish People in war. And in the context of warfare, when lives hang in the balance, the Torah demands of the Jewish soldier not to waste fruit trees. Really?! Is that so important right now? We have bigger things on our minds! But what the Torah is trying to do with this Mitzvah, it would seem, is sensitize us to the small things that we so often ignore, that we so often trample on in pursuit of what we believe to be greater and more important.
Our Sages take this even further, suggesting that an even greater sin than wasting material items is wasting time. Think about it –
… In the five seconds I just let go by, you could have turned to the person next to you and told them how nice their hair/ suit/ dress looks. You could have made someone’s day. You could have said a short prayer and rejuvenated your soul. But we’re sometimes so focused on what’s next that we forget about what’s now.
In the 16th century, a great rabbi by the name of Rabbi David ibn Zimra received a question. A Jewish man was in jail for life. But he was given the opportunity to take one day off. One day! And he sent a letter to this rabbi asking him which day should he take off? Should it be Yom Kippur so he could say Kol Nidrei and Neilah with a congregation? Should it be Pesach so he could have a seder with family? Maybe Rosh Hashana so he could hear the Shofar?
You know what the rabbi answered? He said, take off the first day you can. Whether it’s Shabbos, whether it’s a Tuesday. Because today, each day, is an opportunity. Each day has endless potential. Stop looking forward, stop looking up, stop looking big, and look right in front of you.
That old lady, in the Pizza Hut commercial, she was right. Legacies, fame, honor. They’re nice, but they’re not always attainable, they’re complicated, and most importantly, they could be distracting. Bringing people together, to enjoy each other’s presence, right here, right now, that is a big deal. Hail to Gorbachev!
Now, it’s a struggle. I’ll be the first to admit. This Friday morning, I was davening shacharis, morning services, and I was thinking about what I was going to say this Shabbos. And I had to stop myself. What am I doing? I am in middle of praying. I have an audience with G-d! And instead of appreciating what I’m doing right now, I am thinking about tomorrow. What a waste!
So maybe we can all practice this. We’re all going to go to Kiddush. We’ll be speaking to someone. Let’s try to speak to them and speak to them only. Let’s not worry about refilling our plate, let’s not worry about the friend we want to catch before they leave. Let’s value what is in front of us. It’s priceless.
In sixty seconds, we are all going to rise and have a few moments of silence. It’s called the Amidah, shemoneh esrei, the climax of today’s service. We believe that at that moment we are standing before our Creator. He’s listening to us. Every word. An audience with G-d. Let’s speak our mind. Or let’s just allow ourselves to relish and enjoy the experience of G-d paying attention to us, to me, to you, because we matter to Him. Wow.
I hope and pray that we all leave noble legacies behind, undisputed legacies. And we’ll need to dream big dreams to get there, we’ll need goals, we’ll need strategies. But on this great journey, let’s not lose sight of what’s right in front of us, let’s not lose sight of the countless treasures that we can access every moment with small acts of kindness, with prayer, with Torah learning.
There is nothing more precious than what’s right here, right now.
by Motzen | Aug 7, 2022 | Sermons
During the Nine Days of Mourning leading up to Tisha B’av, it is forbidden, according to Ashkenazic custom to eat meat (except for Shabbos). However, there is a loophole – if one attends a siyum, the celebration of the completion of a Mesechet or Tractate of Gemara, they can, at the siyum, eat meat.
Growing up, I recall friends letting me know they were making a siyum and inviting me to a private nine-days barbecue for their immediate friends and family. More recently this dispensation has arguably gotten out of hand. There are allegedly meat restaurants that make a siyum every hour so that the diners can eat meat. There are organizations that schedule their gala dinner during the Nine Days, advertising the unique opportunity to have a meat dinner during this time. They offer a meat dinner by inviting someone to join them and make a siyum. Someone recently suggested having a Nine Days hotel, with non-stop siyumim taking place so no one will heaven forbid go a week, or even a day without a steak.
We can chalk it up to an increase in materialistic hedonism in our communities, but the truth is, this has been going on for some time. Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein, author of the Aruch Hashulchan, the most important Halachic works of the 19th century, lambasted these siyumim that were taking place in his time. He writes: “How are we not ashamed? Is it not true that many of the nations of the world have many weeks during which they refrain from meat, milk, and eggs? And we, the Jewish People, about whom the Torah says, “You shall be holy” are not capable of holding ourselves back for eight days in the year in memory of the Beis HaMikdash?!” (h/t R. Rael Blumenthal)
Now I’ll be honest, I am not so bothered by the eating of meat at a siyum during the Nine Days. Full disclosure, I made a siyum myself the other day. Sorry for not inviting you all… What troubles me is the mindset that often underpins this practice. You see, there are three possible mindsets when it comes to Jewish Law. The first often sounds like this:
“Rabbi, I need a heter, a loophole. I want to do X, I recognize it may not be ideal. Can you help me figure out a way to do what I want to do without transgressing any Jewish laws?”
This is what I call the ‘obstacle course mindset.’ Jewish Law being the obstacle course, me, with all my wishes and desires being the person stuck in this obstacle course, and the purpose of Judaism is to avoid getting stuck in the obstacle course while I try to get to my destination.
I commend the people who live this way, I do. They obviously believe the Torah must be abided by. It is far better than those in the second category, who see the Torah as a ‘virtual reality obstacle course.’ This is the group of people who when they hit a wall in the obstacle course, they just remove the VR set from their head. To them, the Torah is not real, it’s a set of recommendations for when it’s not too inconvenient. So, I do admire people who believe with a full heart that the Torah must be observed at all times. But there is obviously something missing when our mindset is how can I do what I want without violating any Jewish law.
At one point I was using an app to help me eat more healthily. The way this app works is that you are given a certain amount of points each day and each food you eat costs you a certain amount of points. It’s a great app; you can scan the barcode of the food you’re eating and it will tell you how many points it will cost you and it really forces you to think about your food choices. But not all foods are in the database. Sometimes you have to input what you ate and try to figure out how many points it should cost you. And I remember one day, I was already low on points and I was kind of hungry, so I fudged the system: “Reeeeally, it’s not ice cream – which would cost me like 45 points. It’s really just churned milk, which is 2 points, and some sugar, 3 points, and some flavoring, another point. So really, it’s just six points.”
After devouring two pints of ice cream, I remember feeling quite silly. Who am I fooling? I am doing this because it’s good for me. This system was set up to help me eat more healthily. The only one who loses if I game the system is me.
So often we’re trying to game Halacha, Jewish law, but we’re only gaming ourselves in the process.
This week’s parsha begins with Moshe debriefing with the Jewish People before he hands over the reigns to Yehoshua. He spends some time reminding them of their many sins with the hope that they would grow from them and become better people. But one episode which he reviews seems a little out of place. He reminds them how at one point they shifted from Moshe being the only one who would answer all their questions to a system that trained thousands of others to address Halachic questions. That seems brilliant. That seems very efficient. That does not seem like a sin.
But the commentators explain that yes, while it was very efficient, the fact that the Jewish People were completely comfortable with losing Moshe as the one they would approach with all their Halachic questions betrayed their real mindset towards the Torah – they saw it as an obstacle course. They saw the Torah as a burden, a set of restrictions that we were born into. And if that’s all they are, I rather just go wherever I find the greatest leniency, the most convenient pathway to avoid all those cumbersome laws. The last person I’d go to with my questions is Moshe!
Had they really appreciated the Torah as the word of G-d, had they really appreciated the Torah as a set of laws that guide us towards the most elevated, ethical, and spiritual life, wouldn’t it be best to go to the source? Or at least as close to the source as possible?
The third and correct mindset is that the Torah is the pathway to life; not just in the world to come, but here on earth. The Torah and Mitzvos are meant to guide us through this jungle of confusion called life and give us clarity. How often are we unsure what is right and what is wrong in a given circumstance? How difficult is it to elevate ourselves and not get sucked into the rat race, hedonism, nihilism? Moshe was reprimanding the Jews for not having the right mindset; The Torah is not an obstacle course, it’s the most glorious, helpful, uplifting pathway known to mankind.
***
There is nothing wrong with eating meat at a siyum during the Nine Days. What is wrong is that we are living in a world in which it is so hard to see how the Torah helps us. What is wrong is that we live in a reality where what is the most precious gift feels like a terrible burden. What is wrong is that deep down or not so deep down, we all want to feel connection to the Author of those laws, but we can’t. What is wrong is how we confuse our physical hunger for a steak with spiritual hunger for G-d, and we end filling our life up with things that we know will never satisfy us.
Obstacle course mindset, VR obstacle course mindset, or the Pathway to Life mindset. In this world as we know it, it takes an incredible amount of effort to see the Torah in its true light. It is so much easier to be troubled by laws that grate on our “sophisticated” ears. It is so much more natural to see the Torah as a set of cumbersome restrictions getting in the way of my personal joy and satisfaction. And that is what we are mourning tonight and tomorrow.
The Bais Hamikdash, the Temple, was the nexus, the connection point between heaven and earth, between the physical world, and what exists behind it. When it stood, we didn’t need imagination or mindsets. We felt G-d’s presence as we studied His Torah or ate Kosher food. We stood in prayer and knew that we were talking to the Divine. We saw each sin as a flaming fire that would damage our pristine soul.
On Tisha B’av, I mourn for the disconnect. I mourn for the fact that I don’t see my sins as toxic waste eroding my soul. I mourn for the fact that I don’t see the explosive impact of a single Mitzvah. I mourn for the fact that I don’t notice the angels dancing very time I overcome a challenge. I mourn for the fact that I don’t feel Hashem holding me up in dark times and smiling with me in times of joy. I mourn for the fact that I sometimes find myself in an obstacle course instead of the pathway to an amazingly fulfilling life.
The rebuilding of the Bais Hamikdash begins when we realize what it is that we are missing. May it be rebuilt speedily in our days.
by Motzen | Jul 31, 2022 | Sermons
I recently saw what I thought to be the most brilliant advertisement. It was a large truck and on the side of the truck it had the words: “It’s what’s inside that counts.” Here’s where it gets good. When you think of those words, you think of not judging a person by their cover, and how our middos, our moral character is so much more important than how we look. Right?
But this ad was an ad for Life Fitness, a company that sells exercise equipment.
And so under the words, it’s what’s inside that counts, there was an image of the inside of the truck. And what’s inside the truck? Exercise machines. “It’s what’s inside that counts.”
This ad caused quite a controversy with many people feeling like they were being disingenuous, that this ad was completely out of line with the products and the lifestyle they promote. How can a fitness company that normally highlights perfectly toned bodies tell you that what really matters is what’s on the inside?! What I think many people missed is that this ad was a perfect example of Knowing Thyself and having a deep and honest self-awareness. Let me explain:
Who was the most successful leader of the Jewish People?
Undoubtedly that award goes to Moshe. Leads the Jewish People out of Egypt, performs the most memorable miracles known to mankind, facilitates the receiving of the Torah, and leads the Jewish people to the doorstep of the Land of Israel. Moshe is the GOAT, there is no competition.
But Moshe has flaws. Part of his greatness is that he is cognizant of his flaws. The first flaw we learn about almost causes him to not take the job, and the final flaw we learn about causes him to lose his job.
What’s the first flaw, or more accurately, the first disability? Moshe’s speech impediment. When Hashem initially asks Moshe to lead the Jewish People, Moshe says he can’t because – k’vad peh anochi, I am a man with a ‘heavy mouth.’ Moshe, as we know, had some form of a stutter. His first role was that of a spokesperson. Standing before Pharaoh and stuttering is not intimidating, and standing before the Jewish People and stuttering is not inspiring.
How did Hashem respond? Mi sam peh l’adam? Who gives man a mouth?
?! What does this mean?! What kind of answer is that?
Rabbeinu Nissim of Gerona, a 14th-century Spanish philosopher, shares a most beautiful idea: G-d was telling Moshe, “You think your speech impediment is a problem, an issue, something that will get in the way of your success as a leader of the Jewish People? It’s not a bug, it’s a feature! In order for you to be successful, you need to have that speech impediment!”
Rabbeinu Nissim explains: The most important part of Moshe’s job was not to take the Jews out of Egypt, it was to help them receive the Torah. Moshe would be the one who would present G-d’s offer to the Jewish People: Do you want to receive the Torah? There are many laws, there are many responsibilities, it’s a big ask.
Now imagine Moshe was not Moshe. Imagine Moshe was Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, and when he presented this question to the Jewish People, he did so with an English accent. Not only an English accent, but he first delivered the lecture of a lifetime; he wove together philosophy, stories, insights into the psyche of man, and all of this in his impeccable English, perfectly timed pauses, and brilliant prose. Frankly, by the time Rabbi Sacks would be done speaking he could sell me the Brooklyn Bridge. His eloquence translated into a magnetic charisma and he could talk you into just about anything.
Now imagine Rabbi Sacks gave this delivery and the Jewish People answered their famous answer, “Na’aseh v’nishma!” We will do and we will learn!” and they accept the Torah. A few weeks later, or maybe a few years later, when the magic dissipates, don’t you think the Jewish People might make an argument that they never really willfully accepted the Torah? That they were inspired, enamored, swept up by Rabbi Sacks and his charismatic speeches that they said yes but they didn’t really mean it? It would be a pretty compelling argument, no?
Says G-d to Moshe: “You think your ‘deficit’ your speech impediment is a ‘problem’? Who do you think gave you that speech impediment? I DID! And I did so for a reason! I did so because it was critical to your life mission!” It was critical for Moshe to not speak perfectly so that no one would ever say that they were duped, that Moshe, the used car salesman talked them into it. No! If you said yes, it was because you meant it.
But G-d’s response is not just to Moshe; it’s to all of us. We all have our own ‘kvad peh’ our own impediments, be they physical, material, emotional. And what G-d is asking us to do is to stop seeing them as something that gets in the way and instead recognize that those ‘hindrances’ are a critical key to our life mission. That G-d gave us those handicaps, but not as a handicap, as a gift. For some, it’s figuring out how I can use that impediment to my advantage, like Moshe. And for others, it’s how I can overcome that impediment – that too is a life mission. To be born with something that can hold me back and to learn how to overcome.
G-d is telling each and every one of us, “That feature that you’re so embarrassed of? That life circumstance that you can’t stand? I gave it to you. I gave it to you because I believe in you. Because I believe that you can transform that impediment into something beautiful.
Sometimes though the goal is not to transform, sometimes we cannot even overcome, sometimes the goal is simply to be cognizant of our weaknesses, to learn how to see what’s in our blindspot. That too is an accomplishment and not a small order. And this brings us to the end of Moshe’s life.
There is one consistent character flaw throughout Moshe’s life:
The Jewish People are told not to collect man on Shabbos, some people do. What does Moshe do? He yells at them.
After the death of Nadav and Avihu die, the Kohanim leave an offering on the altar for too long and it gets burned. What does Moshe do? He angrily reprimands the remaining sons of Aharon.
And of course, most famously, when the Jewish People complain about a lack of water, Moshe takes his staff and hits the rock.
Moshe, Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz points out, struggled with anger. Over and over his anger appears. It causes him to forget laws that he had learned, as our Sages teach us, anger causes forgetfulness, and it causes him to lose his leadership through the infamous hitting of the rock.
Despite the mishap at the rock, Moshe’s anger is still there. Once again, in this week’s Torah portion, we find him angrily reprimanding the Jewish soldiers as they come back from war. It never goes away. It never gets transformed into something beautiful. But Moshe’s greatness, in this instance, is his self-awareness.
How do we know that? When Moshe asks G-d for a successor, he has very specific criteria: “She’yehi sovel kol echad v’echad l’fi da’ato, that he will tolerate and will have patience for each and every person.”
Moshe recognized his limitation. Moshe, despite being the greatest man to live, never fully transcended that character flaw but what he did do was acknowledge it. “I don’t have the requisite patience, please G-d, find a successor who does.”
And that’s why I love that ad for Life Fitness. What is the biggest critique against a company that sells products that build your body and your body alone? The critique, the weakness, the deficit, is that by focusing on the externals, it ignores what really matters, what’s on the inside. Life Fitness leaned in, tongue-in-cheek, but they leaned in and acknowledged where they fall short.
This is something every company and every organization needs to do. Acknowledge your deficit. And then you have to figure out, is this a deficit that can be made into a benefit? Is my speech impediment really a gift? Or maybe it’s something that really is a problem? In which case, at the very least, I’ll acknowledge it.
I remember when I first became the rabbi of Ner Tamid and people asked me, who goes to the shul? Is it Modern Orthodox? Sort of. Is it traditional? Sort of. Is it for people who are newly observant? Sort of. Truth be told, it was awkward at first. But then I realized that’s not a weakness, it’s our superpower. There’s a word for that – we are the most diverse shul I am aware of! But there are other deficits that we have as an institution that we may not be able to reframe. And that’s okay. As long as we are aware of their existence they won’t hold us back.
We just started the Nine Days of Mourning. In a week we’ll be sitting on the floor reminding ourselves of the destroyed Bais Hamikdash. Our Sages teach us that any generation in which the Temple is not rebuilt, it is as if during that generation, the Temple is destroyed. So instead of spending these days just thinking about what they did wrong, we need to ask ourselves, what are we doing wrong? What are our flaws? This is a question that needs to be asked as a community, but also for every thinking individual; do I know myself? Am I aware of my flaws? Because let me tell you, if you are not aware of any glaring flaws, then I could tell you what your flaw is, it’s a lack of self-awareness. Ein tzadik ba’aretz asher lo yecheta, there are no perfectly righteous people, only people who think they are.
There is an apocryphal story told of Abraham Lincoln. Before he was president, he was a prominent lawyer in Illinois. One day, an inidvidual showed up in his office and asked him to help with some legal problems, but it would involve some shady business. Honest Abe said no, I can’t help you.
The individual pulled out 50 dollars, a nice sum of money in the mid-19th century. Again, Lincoln said no. The man pulled out 100 dollars and put it on the table. Lincoln shook his head and said, no. Until the man pulled $500, equivalent to around $10,000, and at this point Abraham Lincoln said: “Sir, everyone has a price and you’re getting awfully close to mine.” He picked the man up and threw him out the door. Know thyself; know your flaws and know your limitations.
***
Life Fitness is right. “It’s what’s on the inside that really matters.”
They may not live up to that standard but at least, they know themselves. When we’re awake to our deficits and deficiencies, sometimes, we can transform that embarrassing flaw into a beautiful feature. But at the very least, the knowledge of our weakness is in and of itself the most incredible strength.
by Motzen | Jul 24, 2022 | Sermons
Introduction: More often than not, I write my sermon Friday morning. I knew this Friday would be a little busy so I woke up early and wrote it before davening. It was a wonderful feeling, some pressure of my back, and a certain lightness that accompanied me to shacharis that morning. After davening, Murray Friedman approached me and said: “Rabbi, I just want to confirm that the Haftorah this week is the special one for the Three Weeks, right?”
He was right and I, had just spent a good amount of time writing a drasha that revolved around the wrong Haftorah…
I quickly figured out what I would do, but I decided to have some fun with it and placed a poll on Twitter. I wrote: Rabbi Fail – I forgot that we switch this weeks haftorah because it’s the Three Weeks and spent the morning writing a drasha on what is NOT the Haftorah. Do I…
I then listed three options and asked people to vote, which over 50 people actually did. Option one was rewrite the whole thing. 11% thought that was a good idea. I think that’s a chutzpah. Option two, voted on by 20% was, Use the D’var Torah, no one will know the difference… And the final option, the option that I decided already to go with was, Use the D’var Torah and acknowledge that I am human and make mistakes. And hope I don’t get fired for not knowing what Haftorah it is…
Imagine the following scene –
Rob and Ray over there grab water hoses and start spraying water all over and all around this pulpit. Like a LOT of water. Then, we turn the sprinkling system on (we don’t actually have a sprinkling system, but work with me) and it’s pouring water all over. And then, I lift my hands up like this, and yell: “G-d, if You exist, if You can see us and care about the decisions we make, if You want us to be meticulous in Mitzvah observance, if You want each of us to turn our lives around, then send down a HUGE fire from heaven and burn this pulpit to a pulp!”
And then, a fire appears right above the pulpit, and slowly descends, and with all the water spraying everywhere, it consumes this pulpit in an inferno.
Now of course the first thing that will cross your mind is, “Wow, I didn’t know the rabbi’s also a magician…” BUT THIS IS NOT A MAGIC SHOW! You’ll know, somehow, that this is legit.
Would that change your life? A fire descending from heaven. It does not get more old-school miraculous than that. Would that change you? Would that make you a greater believer? Would that impact the way you daven? Would that change how you spend your Shabbos? Your every day? Knowing for a FACT – because you saw it with your own eyes – that G-d exists, that He sees you, that He cares about you. I can’t think of anything more inspiring or life-changing than witnessing a full-blown miracle.
About two thousand five hundred years ago, your great-great-grandparents lived in Israel. They weren’t that different than us. They went to shul, they kept some mitzvos, they identified themselves as good Jews, buuuut they also did some other stuff that didn’t exactly fit that billing. They weren’t always so careful about this Mitzvah or that Mitzvah. They believed but they had their doubts. Sounds familiar?
Eliyahu Hanavi, the great prophet, had a fabulous idea – I am going to inspire the Jewish People, by giving them the most magnificent, spiritual experience, so that this inner struggle, the inconsistency, the apathy, it will all be done with, once and for all.
And so Eliyahu gathers the Jewish People to a Mt. Carmel, and he does exactly what we just envisioned. He takes an animal, places it on an altar, surrounds the altar with buckets of water, and then he prays. And in full sight of the entirety of the Jewish People, a fire comes down from the sky, lower and lower, and then burns the wet animal, sitting in buckets of water, to a crisp. You know what happens?
The people go crazy – “HASHEM HU ELOKIM! Hashem is our G-d,” they yell out in a frenzy. Game over. Eliyahu nailed it. This is the life-changing, inspiring moment they’ve all been waiting for. Shabbos is going to be Shabbos; I won’t even dip my feet in the pool. Kosher is going to be Kosher; no messing around, even when I’m on vacation. I’m going to pray every day. Like, really pray. I might even show up to weekday minyan. I’m going to be kidn to people, not only in public, but behind closed doors. Torah study, lashon hara, you name it.
And it works. This group of Jews who were, in the words of Eliyahu, posei’ah al shnei se’ifim, who were wildly inconsistent, they change overnight.
But then, a day later, maybe a week later, it all falls apart. Despite that intense experience of rapture, it doesn’t stick. Before you know it, the Jewish People are back to their inconsistent, apathetic, Jewish life.
***
Out of all the challenges people present to me, there is one that I really struggle addressing. I get some pretty wild and difficult questions sent my way, and they’re painful, they rip your heart to shreds, but I’m not afraid of them. But there’s one question that scares me:
“Rabbi, I don’t feel inspired. How do I get back that spark of inspiration in my spiritual life?”
You ask me that question, in my head, I run for the door.
I’ll be honest, it’s embarrassing. You want to ask me why bad things happen to good people? I could spend the next ten hours giving you a lecture on the topic. Your relationship is on the rocks? I could try share some practical advice and happy to help finding you a good therapist. But the one question which is probably the most basic to my job – helping people feel connected to G-d, guiding people in finding a spark and passion, ensuring that there is a spirit of inspiration in our lives, that question… I can’t answer it. Or to say it better, I can’t answer it in a way that you, the questioner will be satisfied. And that’s a problem.
If you’ve ever experienced that feeling of being really inspired – maybe you felt your breath caught in your chest, or the room expanding, or you felt absolutely certain about something, or total clarity, or just a sense that you were standing before G-d – that feeling is bliss, right? But as we all know, those feelings don’t last for very long. And so those blissful feelings end up being the biggest tease. Because we know what they are; we’ve experienced them, they were awesome. But now we can’t. And so now, we feel like we’re groping in the dark.
“Rabbi, I don’t feel inspired anymore.”
“Rabbi, what do I do to feel connected?”
“Rabbi, how do I recreate that amazing sense of connection that I used to have?”
***
I’m comforted by today’s almost Haftorah. In the Haftorah we did not read, I learned that I’m not the only one who doesn’t know how to deal with this. Eliyahu Hanavi, after bringing that heavenly fire down to earth, after facilitating the most spiritual experience ever, after witnessing the Jewish People change overnight, and then witnessing them lose that inspiration entirely, he ran away. Now, part of the reason he ran away is because some people wanted to kill him. But he also ran away because he was experiencing an existential crisis; what did I do wrong? I did everything I can to bring the Jewish People back to G-d, and it failed. What else can I have possibly done to inspire the Jewish People? Eliyahu is down, he’s depressed, he can’t understand what went wrong. So G-d shows up and gives him a masterclass in inspiration and it goes like this:
First G-d sends a powerful wind, and Eliyahu assumes, this is an image of G-d, but he doesn’t see G-d in the wind. And then G-d sends an earthquake, and Eliyahu assumes that G-d is found in that earthquake, but He’s not. And then G-d sends a fire, and Eliyahu just know that this fire is a representation of G-d, but it’s not. And then finally, G-d sends forth, a thin still voice, kol d’mamah daka, and G-d, we read, is found there, in that thin still voice.
To paraphrase Rabbi Jonathan Sacks: G-d was trying to teach Eliyahu by not appearing in the whirlwind, by not appearing in the earthquake, and by not appearing in the fire, that G-d is not to be found in violent confrontation, in drama, with spectacle. Rather G-d is found in gentleness and the word softly spoken. G-d was telling Eliyahu that true G-dliness is found far away from the drama.
And that’s why it’s so hard to guide people to be inspired. That’s why it’s so hard to say some words, and poof, the listener feels turned on. What we’re after is a fallacy. It doesn’t work. It’s not meant to work.
Moishe Bane, President of the Orthodox Union, summed it up quite nicely in a recent article. He wrote: “Perhaps we confuse holiness with religious exuberance just as young people often mistake infatuation for love. Infatuation, though exhilarating and intense, inevitably fades. Authentic love, by contrast, builds slowly over time. An authentic relationship with our Creator is the same.”
True love is not Hollywood. True love is showing up day in and day out. At times, it’s draining and difficult and not fun. Fireworks is getting the kids out the door in the morning. Passion is scrubbing the floor vigorously after someone spilled a bottle of milk. Romance is unplugging a toilet.
But between all that, there are sparks, a smile, a gaze, a touch. There is richness, there is beauty, and there is love, but it’s found thin voice and silence. And that’s exactly how inspiration works.
Can I invite you in to my davening experience?
I daven three times a day, every single day. And almost every day, I take three steps back, and I try to speak G-d. I say all the words and I try to say them with meaning. But more often than not it feels like I am smashing my head against a wall. Lightly. The words aren’t going anywhere. They fall flat. I could feel them falling flat. And then – once every, I don’t even know, the room melts away, and the words are like magic, they roll off my tongue, and I sense, I know, that they’re connecting to Hashem, and I feel G-d’s Presence right there in front of me. And then, smashing my head against a spiritual wall for weeks on end.
But that’s the only way it works, and that’s okay. Embrace it. Inspiration is found by showing up. Connection to G-d, that feeling of being lifted up and inspired is no different than love. You could dim the lights all you want, that’s not how romance works in real life. Day in and day out, consistency, the thin still voice, no drama. And in between the humdrum, the regular, the daily Mitzvos, the tefilos, the Torah study, that’s where love, and that’s where a deep and exciting and passionate connection to G-d is really found.
We’re celebrating the Bar Mitzvah of Yehuda Friedman. Yehuda, it has been a pleasure watching you grow up, and I mean that literally. Wow. In addition to height, G-d gave you many talents and qualities; you’re creative, you’re an artist, a sensitive soul. You’re protective over your younger siblings, you’re doting on your mother. You’re responsible – if anyone needs their lawn mowed, let Yehuda know. And today, Yehuda, you’re beginning a journey called Judaism.
Yehuda, I need to warn you – I hope over the next couple of years you have a wildy inspiring experience. Many of us, somewhere between teenagehood and young adulthood, have some life-defining spiritual experience that we never forget. But then, life’s going to get busy, you’re going to grow up, and you’re going to wonder, where’s that inspiration I once felt? Where’s that rush and intensity that I once had? Was it nothing? Can I ever access it again? How else will I feel connected to Hashem? How else will I feel inspired to be a good Jew?
And I hope you remember this speech. I hope you remember the lesson from Eliyahu Hanavi, the kol d’mamah daka, that in the thin still voice, and know to look there for inspiration.
But the truth is, even if you forget this speech, and even if you forget me, I’m not worried. Because you’ll have your Aba and Ima to look to. And you’ll see two paragons of quiet consistency, two people who if you look closely, glow ever so faintly, two people who so clearly are invested in one another, invested in you, and in their quiet and consistent way are teaching you what love really is, love of a spouse, love of a child, but also the recipe for love of G-d: kol d’mama daka, that thin, consistent, and still voice. Don’t give up. Show up. Because that’s where the magic is found.
by Motzen | Jun 26, 2022 | Sermons
Have you ever noticed the logo of the Israeli tourist ministry?
It is two men carrying a huge cluster of grapes.
You know, the spies from this week’s parsha who carry the fruit back to the Jewish People, then share a slanderous report about the land of Israel, using those fruit as props, then end up dying by plague, and causing the Jewish People to delay entering the land by 40 years. THAT’s the symbol they chose to use as the symbol of the tourist industry. What were they thinking?!
I’ve gotten over the many English signs in Israel with terrible grammar. Okay, they didn’t check in with one of the, I don’t know, two million English-speaking Israelis, fine. But this?! How could the State of Israel go ahead and choose, out of all the Biblical stories, the one story that represents such failure?! The one story that represents Jewish leaders sabotaging their opportunity to govern the land of Israel, the one story that represents a complete breakdown in leadership – how these spies could not rally around the leadership of Moshe, the one story that represents a group of leaders who for their own gain caused the Jewish People so much suffering…
Until I realized, wait a second, I cannot think of a story that represents the State of Israel better than the story of the spies! You know, the country that’s about to go into its fifth set of elections in three years, fifth! because none of the leaders seem to be able to get their act together. The country where the teachers are striking and not showing up to teach their classes. The country that just issued an unofficial suggestion to tourists to not bring luggage because there is so much chaos in their airports. Maybe spies carrying some grapes is not such a bad symbol for the State of Israel, after all.
Obviously, I’m being a little cynical, but it does beg the question – at what point in this experiment called the reborn state of Israel, would we say, maybe this was a mistake?
Let me explain what I mean: Over the past hundred years, there has been pushback in some Jewish circles about the legitimacy and appropriateness of creating a Jewish State. There is a Talmudic passage that, in its simple interpretation, indicates that it is forbidden for the Jewish People to reclaim the land of Israel until the times of Mashiach. Further, some Jewish leaders argued that there was a spiritual danger in living in a country that is Jewish, but not religious in nature. And lastly, some argued that it was a disgrace to have the holy land of Israel led by politicians who were not sensitive to the spiritual nature of the land.
The most famous and vocal opponent of the establishment State of Israel was the first Satmar Rebbe, Rav Yoel of Satmar. He dedicated a book to this topic; filled with argument after argument as to why the state of Israel was a terrible idea and a sin. He wrote this book in 1958.
However, in 1967, he felt compelled to write a follow-up book. Why? Because the six-day war, the miraculous success of the six-day war, seemed to be the nail in his ideological coffin. The fact that the IDF was able to defeat Jordan, Syria, in Egypt in such a short amount of time, the fact that Israel was able to more than double her land mass, and the fact that Har Habayit b’yadeinu; Yerushalayim and the Temple Mount were once again in Jewish hands, indicated to all that clearly, clearly, the State of Israel was no mistake. It seemed that G-d, through this victory was making it abundantly clear to all that the State of Israel was His will, not a sin! How else could one explain the miraculous nature of those six days? G-d was so clearly speaking to us and telling us, “You made the right choice!” G-d was screaming through the IDF, through the march of history, that He was happy to have us back in the land.
And so, Rav Yoel of Satmar felt the need to defend his thesis. He wrote another book, explaining how the six-day war was not the act of G-d. His book explained how people were misinterpreting these events, and instead, G-d was sending us a very different message.
Let’s perform a thought experiment, a very dark thought experiment – let’s say the six-day war did not go as it did. Let’s say the six-day war went ahead like some thought it would, with mass casualties and huge losses. The Satmar Rebbe may have written a very different book. This book would have been much easier for him to write. It would have pointed to the defeat, Heaven forbid, of the IDF, as a proof; as a message from G-d that we made mistake, that we should pack our bags and leave.
This argument, for and against the establishment of the State of Israel is based on a principle – G-d speaks to us through history. It’s certainly not as clear as the classical prophetic voice. But it is a communication and we’re obligated to listen to, to attempt to interpret, and to internalize. When things go well for the Jewish People, what does that mean, what is G-d trying to say to us? And when things do not go well, Heaven forbid, we also have to ask ourselves, what is G-d trying to say.
Rav Yosef Soloveitchik reported that during the Holocaust, he used to be confronted by Christians who would say, “See! Clearly, G-d has forsaken the Jewish People. Clearly, you all made a mistake. How else could He be allowing this Holocaust to take place?!” It’s that same principle.
Thank G-d, Israel is doing just fine. Chaos in the Knesset, yes. Bureaucratic dysfunction, yes. Splintering of society, yes. Fine. But there is also so much good. The tech boom in Tel Aviv continues to flourish. Official ties with Saudi Arabia seem to be around the corner. And for all the societal disunity, there is more and more overlap between the different segments of the country taking place away from the media and outside of the limelight of the political sphere. Baruch Hashem, the State of Israel is alive and well. Very well. But I return to my original question: what if it was not doing well? What if… and I rather not even say, but what if things were really not going well, how would we interpret that message? Would the Satmar Rebbe be vindicated after all?
After G-d informs the Jewish People that they would not be entering the land of Israel and that they would be spending the next forty years in the desert, a large group, recognizing that they had sinned, decided to right the wrong. They acknowledge that they should have believed in Hashem, they arm themselves and start marching towards the Holy Land. “וַיַּשְׁכִּ֣מוּ בַבֹּ֔קֶר וַיַּֽעֲל֥וּ אֶל־רֹאשׁ־הָהָ֖ר לֵאמֹ֑ר הִנֶּ֗נּוּ וְעָלִ֛ינוּ אֶל־הַמָּק֛וֹם אֲשֶׁר־אָמַ֥ר יְהֹוָ֖ה כִּ֥י חָטָֽאנוּ׃ In the morning, they went to the top of the mountain and proclaimed, behold, we will go to the place that G-d had told us about, because we have sinned.”
Moshe tells them, “Don’t do it! G-d does not want you to do it.” And then Moshe says,
וְהִ֖וא לֹ֥א תִצְלָֽח
“And THIS will not be successful.”
That’s weird. This, as opposed to what?
Says Rav Tzadok Hakohein (Tzidkas HaTzadik, 46) – Moshe was telling them, “Defying G-d by entering the land of Israel will not be successful THIS time. But there will be a time in the future that it will be successful; a time in which even if G-d says, no, you shouldn’t stop. Go anyway and you will be successful!” Meaning, even if the dreams of our enemies come true, Heaven forbid, we should not see that as a sign of G-d pushing us away from our land. No matter how bad it gets, no matter how much it may seem that G-d is telling us that this experiment is a failure, persevere, don’t give up, don’t allow those messages to deter you from staying in G-d’s home.
***
Rav Tzadok does not limit this idea to the land of Israel, he interprets this section to be relevant to the everyday life of every Jew. There is a passage in the Talmud that goes like this: Whatever your host tells you to do, you should. “Kol mah she’omer lecha ba’al habyais, aseh. Chutz, mi”tzei!” With the exception of the host kicking you out of the house. If he tells you to leave, tzei, you can ignore him.
What kind of strange etiquette did they have in the ancient world? Please don’t try that at my house. If I ask you to leave, I really need you to leave. What in the world does this passage mean?!
Rav Tzadok explains that the Gemara is not talking about social etiquette, how to be a guest. It is describing our relationship with G-d. G-d is the host (not the ghost). G-d is in control of the world. Whatever he tells us to do, we need to listen. “Kol mah she’omer lecha ba’al habyais, aseh”
But there’s one exception. Sometimes G-d seems to be pushing us away, sometimes, we feel like we’re trying so hard, but everything is going wrong. We’re working on ourselves endlessly, but we keep on falling short. We want to connect to Hashem every time we come to shul, but we feel like He’s ignoring us. Sometimes, the messages we are receiving from Hashem seem to be telling us, “Tzei! Go away. I don’t need you here.”
And to that Talmud responds. Yes, we must listen to G-d. Not only must we listen to the explicit messages of the Torah, but we must also listen to the implicit messages, the messages of our life, asking ourselves constantly, what is G-d trying to tell me? And then live our lives accordingly. “Kol mah she’omer lecha ba’al habyais, aseh.”
But there’s one exception. There is one message we have every right to ignore. “Chutz, mi”tzei!” When we feel down, when we feel distant, when we feel turned off, don’t take that to heart. Push on. Forge forward. Use that beautiful Jewish characteristic called chutzpah. No matter how many times Hashem says no or He says go, we have a right and an obligation to refuse, to stay put, and to say G-d, I am not going anywhere. I am staying with You.
Those two people carrying that huge cluster of grapes, they remind us that G-d does want us in His home. Yes, there was a time when He said, no, when He said, leave. But now, in this pre-Messianic era, even if He tells us to leave, even if, Heaven forbid, all goes bad in our precious homeland or in our own spiritual lives, even if it feels like He wants nothing to do with us, we will push forward, we will not listen. V’hi sitzlach. And we will be successful.
by Motzen | Jun 19, 2022 | Sermons
Burnout is defined as, ‘Physical, emotional or mental exhaustion, accompanied by decreased motivation, lowered performance and negative attitudes towards oneself and others.’ Who here has ever experienced burnout?
In the past 24 hours, the following news items have been published; an article in the Economic Times describing parental burnout, a widely-published study showing that the profession with the highest rate of burnout is… teachers! And (and this is for you Shoshi) the super-popular K-Pop band, BTS, is taking a break because of… you guessed it, burnout. (If you don’t know what K-pop is, ask Shoshi.)
The APA, the American Psychological Association, is reporting all-time highs of burnout across all professions. And while it may be on the rise, burnout is nothing new. It’s part of the human condition; the feeling of being alive and energized goes hand-in-hand with the inevitable feeling of being turned off and deflated. Burnout is something we may never solve, but it’s something we can learn to live with. It’s something we can learn to minimize, and not only minimize but to utilize – in living an even more energetic and turned-on kind of life.
Today, I’d like to share with you a story within a story within a story within a story. Like the Russian Babushka, only that the deeper you go, the larger the story gets.
Story #1 – Moshe’s Burnout:
The Jewish People complain, which is nothing new. They’re unhappy with the mann falling from the sky. The mann that tastes, according to our tradition, like anything you want. The mann that allows them to not work because food rains down on them every day. Moshe can’t take it. It’s not the first time the Jewish People complain, but this time it gets to him, and he lets G-d know. In the words of Moshe: “Why have You dealt ill with Your servant… that You have laid the burden of all these people upon me? Did I produce all these people… that You should say to me, ‘Carry them … as a caregiver carries an infant,’ … I cannot carry all these people by myself… it’s too much for me. If You would deal thus with me, kill me rather, I beg You, and let me see no more of my wretchedness!”
It does not get more burned out than that.
However, a few verses later, we find a completely transformed Moshe. His own brother and sister question his choices. They criticize him. The Moshe we heard from a moment before, would certainly lose it at this point. This is an ‘Et tu, Brute’ moment like no other! His own brother and sister have turned on him as well!! And yet – Moshe is as calm as a Buddhist monk. He doesn’t flinch. Not only is he calm, he has the wherewithal to pray on behalf of his sister, begging G-d to forgive and heal her for her sins – which she committed against him!!
What happened? How did Moshe transform from throwing in the towel, being sick and tired of dealing with the pettiness of the Jewish People and all the personal accusations it came with, to someone who can so graciously deal with such a personal attack?
To answer that questions, we move on to story #2 – Eldad and Meidad Share a Prophecy:
When Moshe tries to resign, G-d instructs him to gather 70 elders. Many commentators explain that these 70 elders were appointed to help Moshe. Moshe was saying the job is too tough, so G-d says, no problem, I’ll find you an assistant rabbi. 70 assistant rabbis to be exact.
The problem with this approach is that we don’t find these elders doing anything. He appoints them and then they exit stage left.
I believe the real solution lies with two enigmatic people, a little glossed over detail in the narrative that goes like this: These70 people were instructed to join Moshe, but two people held out, their names were Eldad and Meidad. 68 people are gathering around Moshe in front of all of the Jewish, and Eldad and Meidad choose not to. And then, suddenly, Eldad and Meidad, who are still in their own tents, start to experience prophecy. Moshe is informed that these two are not joining the rest of the elders and the story continues. Why is this little sidebar important?
The answer is story #3 – Eldad and Meidad’s lineage.
Who are these two people, Eldad and Meidad? (Are you all still with me?)
Yonasan ben Uziel, one of the oldest commentaries on the Chumash, tells us that Eldad and Meidad were half-brothers to Moshe. Listen to this wild story, and hold on tight: Before Moshe is conceived, Pharaoh decrees that all boys born to the Jews should be thrown into the river. The Gemara tells us that Amram, Moshe’s father, who was also the leader of the Jewish People, divorces his wife, Yocheved. “Why would anyone bring children into a world where they would be killed?” reasoned Amram. And so, he thought it would be better not be married at all. Being that Amram was the leader of the Jewish People, the rest of the Jewish People followed suit. Every Jew divorced their spouse.
Everyone, except for Yocheved, his own wife. That’s right. Yocheved thought her husband’s idea was a really bad one. And so, she went ahead and married someone else, and Yocheved and this man had two sons, Eldad and Meidad.
Imagine this – the entirety of the Jewish People are getting divorced, and this woman says no, it’s wrong, and she goes ahead and finds a new spouse and brings two boys into the world. This defiant, brave, individualistic, woman, is the mother of Eldad and Meidad. There is no doubt as to where their independence, their ability to decide what is right and wrong for them, where all that comes from; how 68 other people dutifully follow Moshe’s instructions, but these two individuals decline.
I imagine as Moshe heard that these two were not following others, he remembered the story that his mother told him, how she stood apart and was true to her beliefs. I imagine that caused Moshe to do the same. To ask himself, who am I? What are my talents, my skills? Am I true to my beliefs? To what I’m here for?
Both the mystics and psychologists, though they use different language, understand that burnout can be caused when we’re not listening to ourselves, when we’re living on autopilot, or even worse, when we’re living someone else’s life, someone else’s dreams or expectations. No matter how successful we may be, if we’re not living our life, a life that is true to ourselves, it doesn’t feel good. It actually feels physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting.
It takes courage and independence to listen to oneself. Sometimes listening to oneself takes us on a wild journey, far, far away from where we are right now. And sometimes, as in the case of Moshe, it opens our eyes to what we’re already doing, letting us know that we’ve chosen the right path, and it pushes us to continue on that path but for the right reason, because it’s our calling, it’s who we are.
What snaps Moshe out of his burnout is listening to himself, by being himself, like his half-brothers and like his mother before him.
One story to go: Where does Yocheved attain this strength of character? This ability to defy the leader of the Jewish People because she knows what’s right. How does she have so much self-confidence and awareness?
Story # 4 is the story of Yocheved’s Lineage. Yocheved is the granddaughter of Yaakov and the daughter of Levi. What do we know about Levi?
There is only one Biblical story about this man. His sister Dinah is violated, and Levi risks his life for her sake. He puts it all on the line for the sake of someone else. It’s no coincidence that his descendants are chosen to be the priests in the Bais Hamikdash; their great-grandfather lived his life for others and this becomes a trait in the family; a life lived in the service of others.
And here we find the great paradox. How does one learn about themselves? I googled it. Here’s one of many similar-sounding lists that popped up: 1) List your strengths. 2) Identify your core values. 3) Identify your beliefs? 4) Meditate. 5) Practice mindfulness and awareness. 6)Accept who you are…
You know what Judaism says about this approach? It’s all wrong. Or more accurately, it’s not the full picture. You know how you really learn who you are? Instead of focusing so much on yourself, serve others. Give to others. Live with and for others. In that space between you and others, that’s where you learn who you are. Let me tell you, I thought I knew who I was before I got married. Ha! Then I thought I knew who I was until I had children. Double ha.
Yocheved had the confidence to be her own person because she came from a family that served others. And that’s the great paradox of self-discovery: You don’t learn who you are by turning inward, you learn who you are by focusing on others.
A story within a story with a story. Moshe was burned out. Big time. But he was reminded of his mother. He was reminded of the importance of self-awareness and self-discovery. Burnout, if we want to take advantage of it, asks us if our life is aligned with our dreams, with who we are. And perhaps even more importantly, like his grandfather before him, Moshe was reminded to stop thinking about himself and instead to focus on others.
Many people will tell you that the response to burnout is self-care. That’s partially true. An even better antidote to burnout is the exact opposite. To stop obsessing about oneself and to give and give to others.
Shoshi, you too are a story within a story within a story. Your grandparents on your father’s side were pillars of their community in Randallstown. I just met your mother’s parents, and they seem to be the loveliest people. Your parents are both givers, an educator, a nurse; it’s a life of service. And you, like your parents and grandparents, are remarkably independent, you think for yourself, you do what you believe in, and you’re a giver, you’re a phenomenal friend and sensitive to every person and even animal around you. Those are not just antidotes to burnout, they are the ingredients of an exceptional, meaningful, and joy-filled life.
I’ll conclude with a final story. Someone once wrote a letter to the Lubavitcher Rebbe: “I would like the Rebbe’s help,” he wrote. “I wake up each day sad and anxious. I can’t concentrate. I find it hard to pray.
I feel that life has lost its joy. I need help.”
The Rebbe wrote a profound reply without using a single word. Somehow, he knew that this was not a case of clinical depression, but someone who was down. The Rebbe didn’t write anything. He circled the first word of every sentence in red and sent the letter back. Every sentence began with the letter I. You know why you’re feeling this way? I, I, I, I. That was the Rebbe’s response.
Shoshi, never forget where you come from, never lose sight of who you are. And remember, the key to self-discovery and a key to happiness is to focus less on ‘I’ and more on everyone else.
