What Happened to Your Heart?

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I’d like to ask you a question: Why is the world falling apart? 

People will come up with many creative answers: They will blame everyone from the Chinese to the Iranians; from the capitalists to the socialists.   It’s the Democrats’ fault, it’s the Republicans’ fault.  It’s the price of oil, it’s the price of eggs….

My friends, I have the answer and I won’t even charge you for it. The reason the world is falling apart is because we are ignoring the word of G-d, His Torah. Our Torah is the blueprint of the universe. Before G-d created the world, He created the Torah. Therefore, the Torah is the DNA of all reality. So, if the world looks like one big mutant cancer gene, it’s because we have scrambled the DNA and tried to create the world according to our own “architectural design.” That ambition has failed man, time and time again:

Adam sinned, he was thrown out of Eden and brought death to the world. The generation of the flood sinned and G-d brought the mighty flood; the people built a Tower of Babel and G-d punished them.  Sodom and Gomorrah well, their fate wasn’t too pretty either. 

You see, G-d is the master coder, and when we try to overwrite the program, we find ourselves faced with catastrophic glitches and disasters.

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So why is the world broken? Because we ignore G-d’s will.

And there is one sin that I want to speak about that is at the root of it all – calloused hearts! 

When someone came to Hillel and asked him to summarize the entire Torah on one foot, he said: “‘That which is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. That is the entire Torah and the rest is commentary.  Go and study it.’”

You see, my friends, all of Judaism depends on the ability to view another person’s life as just as real and significant as one views one’s own. If we don’t see the human being in the other person, then we certainly don’t see the G-d in them. When our egos are too big, we leave no breathing room for the existence of others. It may very well be that we are the lucky one, the rich one, the pretty one, the healthy one, the employed one, but that doesn’t cancel out the fact that everyone’s life matters. If others are not as lucky as we are, it doesn’t give us the right to disqualify their existence or emotions. We should have empathy, compassion and an opened hand and heart. And conversely for those who are less lucky, we have no right to dismiss the woes of the more fortunate with contemptuous comments such as, “Ah they are rich what do they know of suffering.” Pain, suffering, heartache, sickness and troubles have no tax bracket.

But we’ve become so callous and numb to the ordeals and dignity of others, that our feelings of superiority or inferiority and our massive egos dehumanize our brothers, our friends, our neighbors and our fellow citizens. We spurn and trample on the one principle which Hillel highlights as encompassing the entire Torah.

The Torah commands us, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” In fact, the rabbis teach that you should pray for another before you pray for your own needs. The reward: You will benefit first.

G-d tells us to circumcise our hearts. The Rambam explains this as behaving fairly, justly, not only to people who are rich, powerful or popular but toward everyone. Have a heart for people who need your heart; have a dollar for people who need your dollar; Have a smile, a hug and kindness for people who need it, not just for people who can do something for you. Because that is just serving your own ends and using people as little props in your deceitful game of life. 

Truly, we live in such an egotistical, self-absorbed world that it is no wonder that it is falling apart. It’s fractured by the pull of each man for himself. From selfies to the social media platforms which broadcast them, the obsession with self is nothing less than suicidal. 

We deem others along with their ambitions and successes as threats to our own survival, and as such, everyone feels like an enemy and no one like a friend, a neighbor or a brother. 

 

In this week's Parshah, Bo, we read about Pharaoh’s persistent refusal to let the Israelites go. Pharaoh deemed himself a god. He believed that he created the Nile and that he created himself. He rejected G-d. While the most devasting plague was yet to hit his country, the death of the firstborns of Egypt, he slept in his bed. While his country was being destroyed plague after plague, he was still able to sleep because he had a heart only for himself. It’s repeated many times that Pharaoh hardened his heart. That hardened heart ruined him and his country. Ego has only false gains, but its collateral damage will always bring justice in the end.

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G-d did not command us to love our parents in the Torah, just to respect them. But He did command us to love Him and to love our neighbor. Rabbi Akiva said that doing so is a fundamental principle of the Torah. “A soul enters this world for seventy or eighty years just to do a favor for another,” says the Baal Shem Tov.

Friends the very last letter of the Torah is a lamed and the first is a beit, combined they spell the world Lev, which means heart. We must have a heart! We put conditioner on our hair and skin to make it soft, more importantly we must condition our heart. Circumcise it, soften it, open it. If G-d gave us a heart, it’s because He wants us to use it! 

Shabbat Shalom

 

 

 

 

Thanks for What?

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I’ve known too many people in my life who have a “use them and abuse them” mentality. These egocentrics regard other people as servants and as a means to an end. They make their feelings pretty obvious that our existence revolves around their needs and ambitions. Once we’ve done all we can for them, our usefulness expires. They will find others to use and abuse. These thankless people may regard themselves as geniuses in their game of life, but the Torah regards them as Pharaohs, as arrogant enemies of Hashem.

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We read in this week’s Torah portion, Shemot, about Joseph’s death and how “a new king arose over Egypt who knew not Joseph”-- the very Joseph who was the only man who could interpret Pharaoh’s dreams and who was appointed viceroy, standing only second to Pharaoh. The Joseph who made the country rich and saved it from ruin; The Joseph about whom  all of Egypt heard when his brothers had arrived. Yes, that famous Joseph, with a coat of many colors, who we all still know about thousands of years later, yet, somehow, Pharaoh just couldn’t seem to remember him. 

After all, remembering comes with a heavy price - we might have to say “Thank you.” We might have to repay kindness for kindness. And so, the new Pharaoh showed his gratitude by enslaving Israel and murdering their firstborn. Talk about appreciation! Some of our sages explain that the “new Pharaoh” was not a different person at all, but rather the very same Pharaoh who arose with a NEW attitude. Once the bad times were over, he figured the Jews were expendable.  He thought himself a G-d and didn’t want to be outdone or overpowered by the people who made him successful.  

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The Torah teaches us a very different lesson about gratitude. After all the Egyptians did to the Israelites over their long years of slavery, the Torah commands us, “You shall not hate an Egyptian, for you were a sojourner in his land” (Deuteronomy 23:8). The Biblical commentator Rashi explains that we are not permitted to despise them because they hosted us in a time of need. The lesson should be clear: If we can’t hate those who tormented us because they were once good to us, imagine how much more we owe those who were good to us. We must appreciate and consider the efforts on their part which made our lives better and easier even if only for a moment. Sometimes it is just a single merciful moment that can save us from despair. 

Other examples in Judaism offer us sensitivity training and appreciation:  For instance, if we decide to change the mere casing of a mezuzah wherein a holy parchment was once contained, whether we change it to upgrade our decor or if the prior one was rotten or broken, it can’t just be thrown away in a garbage can. There is a respectful means of disposal;  Moses wouldn’t strike the waters and turn them to blood because the waters had once saved his life; We hide the challah on Shabbat under a cloth so as not to embarrass it when we first pray over the wine. All out of respect and gratitude. The Torah also prohibits needless destruction, directly or indirectly, of anything that may be of use to people.  

Thus, if inanimate objects which served us can’t be dismissed irreverently or disrespected, imagine how much more so are human beings to be treated with appreciation, dignity and gratitude if they helped us. When we are famished, it is easy to thank G-d for the sandwich in front of us. But the Torah commands us to say thank you also when we finish satisfying our appetites.  

It is actually only when we are in a perpetual state of gratitude that our best blessings are yet to come. “King Hezekiah had great messianic potential. G-d made great miracles for him...But because he did not sing a song of praise to G-d for the miracle, he was not appointed to be the Mashiach. (Sanhedrin 94a via Rabbi Avraham Arieh Trugman).  Gratitude is a fundamental of Judaism. In fact, the term "Yehudi"-- Jew, comes from the Hebrew name Yehuda, which means thanks and gratitude. It is thus from the tribe of Yehuda that the Mashiach will come.  

Everything comes from G-d. Even if we can’t stand the “messengers” He uses to execute His will, we have to be thankful. When we are not, we snub not only those who help us, but G-d as well. The Hebrew word for “thank you” is todah (תודה); When those same letters are permuted, they spell the word dotah (דותה) which means “illness.” When we are unthankful we are like an emotionally “sick” person and we separate ourselves from the Almighty. A thankless society is a Godless society.

It's funny because we often remember what we do for others, even the $5 we lent someone 20 years ago, and insist we are only upset "on principle" that they didn’t pay us back. But when we owe others, we can manufacture excuses a mile a minute as to why the account has been settled. We overvalue ourselves in the giving and undervalue favors when we are taking.  

At the end of the day, it all comes down to one thing. Are you a Pharaoh with a short term convenient memory? Have you rewritten history to fit your own narrative wherein you are a superhero and the other is vilified? Or are you a mensch? Are you a grateful person? Is “thank you” on your tongue; and even more importantly, is it in your heart and in your actions. 

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The Original

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My whole life I always hated it when people copied me. I always deemed it as a form of identity theft. I know some will say imitation is the highest form of praise. But for me, imitation is the highest form of irritation.  And I’ve often racked my brain as to why it bothers me so much. Was I afraid that if you wore the same hat and ring that I would mistake you for me? At what point do I risk losing my unique identity altogether? And then I think about it another way and question whether those things which are copyable are really me at all. Some advise and say that if you’re being copied then you must be doing something right. But I’ve concluded that if I am copyable then I’m doing something very wrong. 

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The problem with us is that we each think that the whole universe revolves around us. We live in a fractured generation that nurtures egotism with social media as its bolstering and enabling cohort. What good can come from that? The individual is entrenched in a world of  “I,” selfies and self-promotion causing brother to envy brother and friend to envy friend. Who really cares about their community anymore or even world events? Our potent egos have isolated us and desensitized us. This separateness is antithetical to creation where cohesion and oneness are essential for existence, where elements intrinsically know that they must function as a team, i.e. rain, earth, plants, air, in order for things to work. Like notes in a song which must come together to create a song; we humans must find our “note” and realize that no other can make our unique sound: D♭ (D flat) cannot usurp C# (C sharp). In addition, while copying another in envy we will always be singing out of tune. For each one of us is a unique soul and if we’d be truly pressing ourselves to extricate what is uniquely us we would be as inimitable as a thumb print; we’d love ourselves and all that we’d do in  a healthy way; and we would not be threatened by others nor feel the need to copy or envy them.

In this week’s parasha, Vayechi, the last in the book of Genesis, we read about the imminent death of Jacob who with foresight at the impending moment blessed his sons, the future tribes of Israel. His parting words were by no means a blanket blessing to wish his sons a one-size-fits-all good luck and farewell. Each son received a unique blessing which was intrinsic to his soul and his idiosyncratic and divine destiny. Each tribe would ultimately be represented by a precious stone embedded in the breastplate of the high priest when serving in the Holy Temple. Could the sapphire representing Issachar imitate the pearl which represented Zebulun? Could the emerald representing Judah imitate the turquoise representing Naphtali? Each gem has its own beauty and brilliance to reflect in the world.  Ultimately, scholars descended from Issachar, seafarers from Zebulun, leaders from Judah, judges from Dan, priests from Levi, etc.  Why even bother having 12 tribes if each was destined to be like the other.  Obviously, they were not. “All these are the twelve tribes of Israel...each man, according to his blessing, he blessed them.” (Genesis 49:28)

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When we become the best and highest version of ourselves, no one can steal our thunder because we own the sky.  Don’t tell Cecil B DeMille, but the Sages teach that when the Jews left Egypt the Re[e]d Sea didn’t split into two, it actually split into twelve paths, providing a distinct path for each of the twelve tribes. Each one of us should to take an honest, deep look at ourselves and find the gem within that is distinctly us. It’s not only about living a purpose-driven life; it is about living, in heightened form, our own unique purpose. Here I am now at my laptop, writing only what I can write. It is my purpose, it is my soul, it is my thumbprint, it is Aliza. Who are YOU?

The Light is in Our Hands

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I always wished I could read the candles flames like the kabbalists could and know what they are trying to say. But their lights remain ever a mystery, and they burn until they are no more. Their final glow dissolves into a whisper of smoke and leaves me wondering what happens to that otherworldly light that envelops our homes for eight days? Life feels darker. They take with them their warmth and certainty only to be replaced by chilly intimidating shadows. And then I remember the words of Isaiah “And the nations shall walk at your light, and the kings at the brightness of your rising.” My fellow Jews, the torch has been passed to us: We ourselves are the lights that must live on once the festive candelabras are placed back up on the high shelf. We are the flames that must burn radiantly in our service to G-d and with our faith in Him. For it is only in the roaring eternal fire called faith, that we can extricate ourselves from the gravitational pull of uncertainty, fear, darkness and assimilation—and hence shine on.

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Interestingly, it is at this time of year when the nights just start to get shorter and the light begins to prevail that we read parashah “Miketz” wherein Joseph is released from prison with great haste. Joseph who once found himself in the darkness of a snake-filled pit into which his brother’s had cast him and then later in the darkness of Pharaoh’s dungeon could have chosen to give up. What truly did he have to live for after being sold into slavery? His life seemed to be going from bad to worse. His brothers stripped him of his coat of many colors, also taking from him his pride, his innocence, and the years he could have been living peacefully by his father’s side. In some measure they killed everything about him, except faith and the light of G-d that burned inside him. Luckily, faith knows not shackles nor taskmasters nor pits or self pity—it sees only the light. The Bible teaches us something very interesting about Joseph’s attitude throughout his great suffering. The dungeon to which he is condemned is called Beit Hasohar, the “house of light.” Even in the depths of a dark dungeon, Joseph maintained his faith in God, he remained optimistic and hopeful and he created his own “light.” It was a house of light because he himself shone. 

We must learn to do the same as we go through our own trials and tribulations. With laser-like intensity keep faith shining until it cuts right through the “dungeon” wall. It is a sin to succumb to despair and it is idol worship to believe that life is only worth living when we are riding high. In the story of Chanukah we learn how the golden Temple menorah had been stolen and there was only enough pure olive oil to last one day. The Maccabees didn’t sit around lamenting the darkness of their circumstance. They made a cheaper metal menorah. And the one day’s worth of oil miraculously lasted eight days. If only we would stoke our souls and refine our faith like pure olive oil, the miraculous light of Chanukah would be with us 365 days a year. In fact Jews are compared to olives for many reasons, one of them being that olives must be squeezed hard to yield their oil and it is through that pressing and those hardships that we yield pure light. The test and salvation is to see the light even while still in the “pressing.”

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For just as abruptly as Joseph’s problems came upon him, they left him with equal speed as he was beckoned to interpret Pharaoh’s dreams. He went from being a prisoner to being the second most powerful man in Egypt. The cause of his woes, dreams, ultimately became his cure. My friends, the trials and hardships inflicted on man are limited. Just when a person least expects salvation, it is just around the corner. There is a season for everything in our lives, even a winter of discontent. 

All the above is poetically inspiring but also useless if we only have faith in Hashem but give Him no reason to have faith in us. Joseph did not survive Egypt simply because he had faith; that would just make him a positive thinker. Self-help guru, Tony Robbins,  could have taught him that too. He survived and triumphed because G-d had reason to have faith in him. Despite all the perverse influences around him, he behaved like a Jew is commanded to behave and maintained his unique identity. The most beautiful woman in the world made daily advances toward him and he did not succumb because his father’s face and all the moral teachings of his faith guided his conscience and his deeds. Just like the Maccabees withstood the temptations of Hellenism, he withstood the corrupting influences of Egypt. Each prevailed.

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No I cannot read the candles flames as I wish I could, but that is not my business after all. My job as is yours is to look our faith in the face and be honest. If a Jew really had faith in G-d he wouldn’t work on the Sabbath because he’d have faith G-d would provide. If he had faith he wouldn’t be scared to give charity because he’d be sure of G-d’s charity toward him.  If he had faith he wouldn’t dishonestly try and manipulate results in his life. He would do everything so differently because a person of faith will “let go and let G-d.” He would try but not over try. In all our worldly affairs we believe one hand washes the other, yet when it comes to G-d we are ready to collect with both hands and serve with neither. Our job is to illuminate the world with divine light. How does one do that? By living with faith and living faithfully. It will make all your dealings straight. Our faith mandates us to “shine” for all to see, just as the menorah’s lights must not be kept private, but rather must be placed in visible locations. We are not destined to be dimwits or dim-watts but rather a light among the nations. My beloved Yidden, we are bearers of the light. That is not our calling card--that is our calling!

Every Breath You Take

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As an emphatic way to describe an experience, people often use the expression, “It took my breath away.” I too, like everyone else, am moved by things and happenings. But, in honesty, I can’t say that anything ever took my breath away other than a cardio workout. But then, unfortunately, something did. My father died. He passed away at home from a brain tumor. I watched and listened as his breathing became evermore shallow and irregular and then it stopped. And then he died. My beloved father, David, my best friend, was gone, because the Almighty had ceased to grant him the gift of breath.

That day, my breathing also changed. I physically suffered from shortness of breath for years to come, even though my life went on, albeit, with many more heartaches along the way. I sometimes found myself seeking air in a brown paper bag. And it was only a few years ago that I realized that although I was religiously observant, I wasn’t living with faith.

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I don’t recall which rabbi said the following, but his words became my new oxygen. “If one cannot catch one’s breath, how can one claim to be connected to Hashem and to be living in faith?  With worry and fret we are trying to catch tomorrow’s breaths today, and we thus overload our system with fear instead of faith.” We strive to catch the breaths that have not yet been allotted to us. That was so me, trying to pack in a year’s worth of breaths to get through a singe day.

We read in the Book of Genesis how G‑d breathed the breath of life into Adam. G-d’s breath is our animating force. Yet, often we forget that and become burdened by grief, fear and disappointment; we disconnect from G-d and go breathlessly through the motions of our life.

For many years I’d think about my editor’s life motto: “It ain't Auschwitz, keep on truckin.” This sometimes helps, but it has the duration of a meme that one scrolls through in a social media feed.

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What helps more are the words of Dr. Edith Eger, a Holocaust survivor whose mother was selected for death by Dr. Mengele before her own eyes: “Part of me was left in Auschwitz,” she said. “But not the bigger parts and not the better parts.”  No matter what happens, when we walk with G-d the better part of who we are is always with us.

Thus, no matter what happens to us, we must not yield our breath back to G-d before our time, but rather get even closer to Him and step deeper into the Torah. For the Lord is the only oxygen and faith is the “ventilator” that connects us.

In a recent interview, Lewis Howes asked Dr. Eger her definition of greatness, and her answer encapsulates a major Torah value, “Show up for life.” And she did. How about you?

We learn this empowering life lesson from our forefather Jacob in this week’s Torah portion of Vayishlach.   Jacob’s life story is marked by heartache and challenges. He was forced to run away from his home because his brother Esau threatened  to kill him;  his father-in-law Lavan  deceived him by switching his bride Rachel with Leah, and changed his wages on a daily basis for 20 years; he wrestled with an antagonistic angel and was left limping; his daughter Dina was raped; his sons started a war to avenge their sister’s abduction after making a peace agreement; his favorite wife Rachel died  in childbirth; his mother died  after he fled his brother at her behest;  his firstborn son Reuven interfered in his marital relations with his concubine; his son Joseph disappeared   for 22 years after his brothers sold him into slavery.

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Jacob’s life sounds like a Netflix drama of at least 7 seasons. But true to his name Jacob, which means the heel of a foot, He propelled himself forward in life. His heartaches did not become his Achilles heel and ruin him. Nor did he use them as excuses to spurn G-d.

Jacob breathed because he believed.

In the Book of Shemot, we learn that when Moses spoke to the Children of Israel and told them that G-d would deliver them from bondage, they did not listen because of shortness of breath and because of their hard labor. The shortness of breath reflected their state of mind. And in their troubled state of mind, they abandoned hope of redemption. They lost faith in G-d’s promise.

How often in our own lives do we get locked into our emotions and a negative mindset and forget to breathe? This runs counter to logic.  One need not be a scientist to know that one has to breathe to live. But even more than that, Judaism teaches that the entire world was created with the breath of G-d. When we step out of faith, we are disconnected from our life Source. We become overwhelmed by stress which affects our nervous systems. Studies show that people of faith live longer.

It is no coincidence that people who meditate and practice breathing exercises are able to heal many serious ailments. Rabbi Nachman taught that deep and focused breathing is a formula for a fulfilling life.

As Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase.” But if you want to climb it, you have to breathe, to let go and let G-d.

And I’ll end with lyrics from a song written by an English rock band called The Police. But just pretend it’s G-d singing them to you:

 

Every BREATH you take
And every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I'll be watching you

 

Higher and Higher

 

It seems as if no one I know is happy; So many people have major issues sapping their peace of mind. Some, more than ever, find themselves wondering, “What’s it really all about? “What’s going on?” “What does G-d want from me?”                    

These are spiritually-driven questions, yet the askers never seem satisfied with spiritual answers.        

Tell them it’s all about stopping their sins and elevating the world through Torah and they will roll their eyes, shut you up, and start quoting gurus and their trite soundbites as if they were speedy transformative incantations. After all, saying abracadabra to make all our “boo-boos” disappear and wishes come true is so ever convenient.

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“Torah? Nah!  There has to be another way,” is a reply I’ve often heard by those attempting to shirk off any religious duty that would interrupt their daily schedules which includes bemoaning their plight. And so, as palliatives for empty hearts and flagging souls, these searchers of life’s meaning fill their lives with materialistic ornaments, promiscuity, Botox, yoga, body sculpting, traveling, shopping, decorating, golfing and all kinds of recreations and distractions, to no avail. Happiness evades them and another day dies and with it the opportunity to create light. The shallow pursuit of more and plenty will never satisfy their souls nor satisfactorily answer their questions. Rather, it will even further exasperate them as their hands are filled with “gold” but their hearts are empty of peace. Still mankind continues to build its golden calves and hence the Heavens rumble.

I find the question, “What does G-d want from me?”  puzzling. When we read articles about the Keto diet, we understand what dietary modifications we have to make. When we read self-help books, we know what the authors are recommending for better living. I am not sure then why when reading G-d’s book, we become illiterates and can’t seem to understand our native tongue. We have the Torah for over 3333 years and we still don’t understand what G-d wants from us? It’s there in black and white. Yet we are more inclined to believe the print in the National Enquirer than G-d’s own word.

When it comes down to TRUTH, we can’t go shopping and bidding for answers that we prefer, as we do on eBay for items. The Torah is the only truth. It is the blueprint of all creation, G-d’s architectural plan for creating the world. Therefore, in order to understand the world we live in and our place in it, we must refer back to the original “user’s manual.” If you don’t subscribe to it, it’s your prerogative. But then don’t seek for truth in the world of lies, just as you wouldn’t read the instructions for your toaster while trying to fix your washing machine. For doing so my friends renders us not “truth seekers” but rather voluntary obfuscators guilty of manufacturing our own darkness.

 So how can we extricate ourselves from the black hole that sucks us is deeper and deeper? Through prayer! It is like a sharp pointed arrow that can pierce the Heavens. And it can save us.  But just as with a bow and arrow, the closer one pulls the string toward one’s heart the farther the arrow will go, so to the more our prayers come from our heart with truth, the higher they will go. When we pray to G-d with all our hearts, all our souls and all our might, we can get close to our Maker and change nature itself. In fact, praying and reopening a relationship with G-d is the ark of our survival. Interestingly, the rabbis teach that the Hebrew word for ark (as in the ark which saved Noah) also means “word” alluding to prayer. Is it truly imaginable that the whole world was destroyed by boiling water and a mere boat withstood it all? Prayer is what kept it sailing and impermeable.

In this week’s Torah reading of Vayeitzei, we read about Jacob’s famous dream of a ladder set in the earth, with its top reaching the Heavens.  G-d’s angels were ascending and descending on this ladder. The angels represent the ascent of man’s prayers. The ascending angels bring man’s supplications to the celestial Throne and then those same angels descend laden with Heavenly blessings. Note that the Hebrew words for “ladder” and “voice” have the same numerical value (136), indicating a relationship between the two and demonstrating the power of prayer: the voice ascends and the sky is the limit.

If  our voices can activate Alexa, what makes us think for a single second that they can’t affect the Heavens? G-d is just waiting to hear from us as parents wait to hear from their children.  The technology also teaches us to be deliberate and articulate in our requests or we may find Alexa playing heavy metal music by Black Sabbath instead of Sabbath sundown times.   And just as we all resent communicating with people who are talking to us while texting and playing with their phones, G-d, too, wants our undivided attention. Pray as if you actually care about your relationship with the Divine, and not with burden-inspired impatience to get it over with. And as Rabbi Doniel Katz brilliantly pointed out, “How you pray is how you live your life.” And that my friends is really something to think about.        

Shabbat Shalom!

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