Category Archives: lessons

Reflections of a "fringe" Jew

Full disclosure:  I don’t fit in all the time, but then again, most of us don’t.

In truth, I play the part of blending into the “mainstream” frum lifestyle fairly well.  I talk the talk and I walk the walk.  However, when I walk, I think about how the word הלך is the root word of halacha, meaning “to walk”.  I also usually hum the song “A Walk” by Bad Religion.  I just can’t help myself.

I rarely have time or schedule time to think about what makes me different from those around me who are frum.  It usually is just a waste of my time.  Once in a blue (new) moon, I find myself in a situation where I cannot distract myself with my Blackberry, hisbodedus, or a sefer and am forced to actually accept that neis that Hashem made each of us different.  Case in point: this past Motzei Shabbos.

I ventured out, on my own, to see the band Pitom.  They were great.  While I am not a major fan of klezmer music, there were enough electric guitar riffs, hard drums, killer bass lines, and one insane electric violin to make me forget that I was actually listening to “Jewish”-based music.

As I sat in a crowd of about thirty, I scanned the audience and found, maybe, one or two others who I’d label as “frum”.  Not a big deal.  It did get me thinking that even though I have changed in many ways since becoming observant year ago, I still am sort of an “arty-hispter-type”.  I still find myself moved by music as an art form, not just as a niggun, a tune to Adon Olam, or the newest song by any generic “boys choir”.

I think that most people, if they look hard enough, have something that makes them different than everyone else.  That is how Hashem made us.  We are all on the fringe of something.  It could be the fringe of getting closer to Hashem or the fringe of going out of our minds as we get ready for Pesach.

Just as each shevet has a different degel, we are each different…created by Hashem, who is “Echad”.

Food for thought

Rav Elya Lopian zt’l, a product of Kelm (as in the yeshiva founded by Rav Zimcha Zissel Ziv, the Alter of Kelm- a direct talmid of R Yisrael Salanter), once commented that the true measurement of a person’s middos is how he or she treats those in their own home.  He observed that often people are much nicer to strangers than to loved one in their own family.  I, so relate, because I am generally viewed as a nice person to strangers.




The reason for this is because a casual interaction with someone in a store isn’t a big deal.  It’s a one or two time relationship.  It’s not directly ongoing, nor is there much to be gained from investing time or effort into the person at the cash register (although this doesn’t free on from the obligation to make a Kiddush Hashem).  With those in your family, it a constant relationship.  That’s why it’s more difficult to keep your cool, speak pleasantly, be appreciative, and display a level of kavod haAdam.


This is something, especially in dealing with my kids, that I am constantly working on.  It’s an avodah in the real sense, because effort is involved.  There are times that I win (well my Yetzer haTov wins) and there are time that I slip and lose it.  It’s less frequent than it was, say 4 years ago, but it happens.


Once in a while I experience something and it give me a different perspective.  Last night, I placed an order for some “take out” food.  I went, picked up my order, and then came home.  When I got home and started taking out the purchased items, I realized that I was missing something.  I quickly called the establishment and asked if the item I was “missing” was meant to be included with my order.  It was.  So I asked if I could come back and pick up the item.  Of course they said, “Yes.”


I showed up and gave my name and said I had come for the part of the order that didn’t make it home. They apologized profusely and told me how sorry I was.  I told them that it really wasn’t a big deal and that I was sure they were just busy when they put the order together.


As I drove home, I realized that it didn’t really make sense that I didn’t adapt this easy going attitude at home.  Here I was, telling them “no big deal”, when I had paid for an item and didn’t receive it.  Yet, I find myself frustrated and low on patience when I ask one of my kids to pick up their dirty clothes and they choose not to. It’s not like I paid them to actually clean up their clothes.  There was no implied exchange of currently for services rendered.  There is, however, a relationship built on trust, love, respect, and appreciation. That’s really the kicker.  When working with any “volunteers” it’s imperative to appreciate what they do.  I realized that my strategy of working on patience and keeping my cool only really affects how I preceive things, or the input, not the output.


So, when I came home, I went straight into my son’s room and told him that I really to appreciate all the effort he puts into studying, school work, and I understand that after a full day of school he is sometimes too tired to even care about the state of his room.  I also told him that if he wants help pick up close, I’d be happy to assist him.  If I can be nice and understanding to the person behind the counter, then even more so, to my own family.  At least, that’s the plan.

I couldn’t help but overhearing…

In today’s age of blogs , Facebook, and Twitter we have become fairly accustomed to make a quick comment on things. From a status update about how cold it is outside to a picture of a cute kid playing in a suitcase, it seems that everyone has something to say and now we have a platform to stand on when saying it. I’m probably more guilty of this than most people, by my own admission. However, it’s important to realize that there’s a difference between an invited comment (like anything that someone posts on Facebook, where commenting is part of the online culture) and commenting on something that’s really doesn’t concern you. How often have we said or hear the phrase, “I couldn’t help but overhearing…”, followed by some advice or a comment that is unsolicited and, to put it mildly, not helpful?

At times, we might hear or see something that directly affects us, so it’s in our own interest to speak up. Especially when someone is being wronged.

True, it’s hard to help overhearing things, however it takes self-control and a willingness to sometimes negate voicing our own opinion and not making a comment.

One step forward or three steps back

In a casual conversation with a co-worker, I was informed that for every one day that you don’t wear orthodontic rubber bands or elastics then you “go back three days”.
Amazing!

Since everything the the physical world is really just a parallel of our spiritual world, could it be that every day you chose not to do a specific mitzvah, you also might “go back three days”?  Is it possible that it might be three times harder for you to get all that much closer to Hashem, than if you had performed the mitzvah you chose not to do?  Just a thought.

Attachments

I have a friend who was living in E”Y and is now moving back to America.  I mentioned to him that it might be a good idea to keep an item or two in E”Y, so that he still has a connection to the land.  Before I returned after spending time learning in E”Y, I left a set of Mishna Brurah there with a friend.  Eventually I will end up reclaiming it.  I also have a few items that I can’t seem to allow myself to get rid of that in their own strange way allow me to have a connection to E”Y (even if it’s just in my head).

For example, I have several siddurim from my time in there that I will open and daven from several times during the year (especially during the Shalosh Regolim).  I have my old combat boots, that I took with me to E”Y on my high school NCSY summer tour in 1987 (when/where I became observant).  I bought these in Wichita at an army/navy store and I still use them once in a while.  They really are not great for the snow in Chicago, since they have metal “vents” for breathing, but I can’t let myself get rid of them.  I have an old “kartis” or bus pass that I laminated and use as a bookmark.  Then there’s the spoon.  Ah, yes… the spoon!

The spoon rocks!  It was made in E”Y and I bought it in Machane Yehuda.  It’s sort of a teaspoon and is about four inches long. Since buying it in 1990 I’ve used the spoon for stirring coffee.  I use to keep it in my pocket so that whenever I had coffee, I wouldn’t have to bother with a flimsy plastic stirrer.  After getting married and having our first child, it became the unofficial cereal spoon for our kids before they were big enough to use the adult silverware.  My children even refer to it as the “Eretz Yisrael spoon” or “Abba’s special spoon”.  Of course, when I bought it, I never envisioned that I would have it for so long and that my own kids would be using it.

Book, photos, artwork, magnets, or other items remind me of where I have been, but in truth, these are just display pieces.  It’s those things that I can use in my everyday life that really remind me that I need to connect to something or someplace.

When the needle hits E

Monday morning my car wouldn’t start. I know, great way to start my week, right?

There was power in the battery, but the engine just wouldn’t turn over and rev. I called my good friends at AAA and they said that they would be out “as soon as possible”. In the meantime, a friend of mine came by to see if all I needed was a jump. The jump didn’t really do a thing.

After what seemed like forever, a nice new AAA flatbed tow truck pulled up onto my street in Chicago. I had been dreading this, because my thinking was that it was going to be the transmission, alternator, or starter…all fairly top dollar repairs. The driver asked for my keys and got into my vehicle to attempt to start it. After getting the same results that I got, he looked at the gas guage and asked it there was gas in the tank, since the needle was on E. I knew my car had two gallons of gas in it when I parked it. The AAA guy suggested that because my car was parked at the curb on a big slant, it might have been tilted just enough that the fuel pump wasn’t able to to actually pump gas into the engine. AAA had a gallon of gas on them, so they poured it into my tank and, Baruch Hashem, the car started.

This whole episode got me thinking about my Avodash Hashem. A person can have all of the right kavanah, the right seforim, daven every day, learn at set times during the day, fullfull many mitzvos both Bein Adam l’Makom and Bein Adam l”Chavero and still feel that they are not going anywhere. Why? Because just like my car, if everything isn’t balanced the right way, then you don’t get the proper fuel into your engine. This is why we need close friends and a Rabbi, or two, to give us the insight and information that we just don’t have. Sometimes, AAA can also help.

The best T-shirt ever for my Elul

I happen to like things that allow limited space for a given message, like t-shirts and bumperstickers.
On Wednesday I saw a brilliant T-shirt.  It captured an import foundation in personal growth.  Rav Yerucham Levovitz zt”l, the Mashgiach from the Mir (and a talmud of the Alter of Kelm, the Alter of Slobodka, and the Chofetz Chaim) said, “Woe to a person who is not aware of his faults, for he does not know what he has to correct. But double woe to a person who is not aware of his virtues, for he is lacking the tools for correcting himself“. 

What the Mashigach is saying is that if you don’t know exactly what your good points are, then you are lost. Without knowing exactly what those good points are, the things you excell at and make you who you are, then you can’t get anywhere.

When one reaches Elul, ok when I reach Elul, I usually attempt to figure out what I didn’t work on so much during the year. I look at my Cheshbon HaNefesh (I actually keep one online at http://www.joesgoals.com) and see what my “issues” and things I was struggling with were during the year and where I fell short. R Yerucham’s approach seems different. By focusing on our virtues we not only build up our confidence, but also become more aware of exactly what gifts Hashem decided to specifically give us. This idea is very in tune with the whole “Galus HaAdom” approach of Slobodka, finding the greatness within.

I think that using Elul as a time to bring out my strengths can only help me.  Usually my Elul is sort of a cannonball into a pool of introspection followed by endless laps by way of the Tikun HaMiddos stroke.  Using what virtues I might have to augment those things that I’m weak in brings me to the T-shirt.  Each of us has a “virture” or something that we are fairly good at.  If you don’t want to feel like a baal guyvah, then just accept that someone close to you feels that you are probably good at something.  Our goal is of figure it out and use that as a springboard in other areas.  Look at the T-Shirt below and think about how you would fill in the blank.

Bilvavi Mishkan Evneh on Novardok

One of the things that constantly amazes me about R Itamar Schwartz and his Bilvavi Mishkan Evneh seform is that he is willing to pull and blend Torah from a variety of sources and derechim.  Again, this is a major reason I humbly think his seforim speak to our generation.


For example, in the second volume (both in chapter 1 and 2) he brings down an important educational concept from the Alter of Novardok, Rav Yosef Yozel Hurwitz.  In the Alter’s sefer Madregos haAdom he explains that there is a difference between understanding and acknowledging something on an intellectual level and actually experiencing it.  The best example of this that comes to mind would be the difference between reading about the beauty of a traditional Shabbos meal and actually being part of an enjoying a Shabbos meal.


Rav Schwarz applies this teaching of the Alter of Novardok in regard to Emunah and D’vekus (faith and attachment) in relation to Hashem.  Later, in the same volume (chapter 18) the author writes this:

“…rare individuals would roll naked in the snow or break the ice to immerse in the ice cold water of a lake or pond.  Still others practiced a strong form of self-criticism…They might fall into constant bitterness.  This will damage their avodah, because without joy, there is nothing!”

The ikar, the main point, is that unless the end result (or the journey) is, in fact, simcha, joy, then you are not getting the whole picture…!כי כשאין שמחה – אין כלום   The question I often have is, “How do I get there”?  It’s the ability to extract different strengths from a particular derech that really the gadlus of Bilvavi.  In an information age, when many Torah observant Jews can have access to many different seforim, multiple shuls and schools in a community, different types of Jewish newspapers and weekly publications (I’m not even getting into what’s available onilne), it’s hard to distinguish between what might be substance and what might be filler.


While some argue that Novardok was a type of Mussar that was only applicable for a particular time in the world’s history, I’m glad that the Bilvavi is exposing aspects of it to a new generation.  Don’t worry, I’m jsut as happy when I see a quote from the Baal haTanya as well.  One way that I know I am listening to a true talmidei chachamim or a tzaddik (and I don’t throw around that term) is that when they quote sources it will be from a variety of sources.
“Ben (the son of) Zoma said: Who is wise? He who learns from all people, as it is said: ‘From all those who taught me I gained understanding’ (Psalms 119:99). -Pirkei Avos chapter 4 mishna 1


For other posts dealing with the Novardok Yeshiva and school of Mussar click here.

Holden Caulfield and the lack of observance

Note:  A few of the thoughts and ideas that make up this post have been sitting in my Blogger Dashboard since 08/09/06, after I sent an email to someone regarding banned seforim and authors.

I heard on CBS radio that J.D. Salinger had died.  As a former fan of fiction, avid reader of THE NEW YORKER, and someone who thought, once upon a time, of going into writing,  I had to pause and give some thought to Mr. Salinger and, of course, The Catcher in the Rye.  The primary thing that comes to mind whenever I think about The Catcher in the Rye is the fact that, sometimes, it takes just one written work to make an impact.  Culturally, this book was one of the first written works to speak to and about teenage life in post World War II America.  As often noted, while the book was intended for adults, many young adults felt that it spoke to them and reflected their feelings of alienation.  It was published in 1951 and banned very quickly due to language, adult situations, promotion of smoking and alcohol drinking, etc.   The book continues to be banned.

Even though I attended what was know as a “top” public school in Kansas, this book was never required reading.  In fact, it wasn’t until I was 22 (summer of 1992) that I first read it.  Holden Caulfield, the main character, was a mouthy teen who had been expelled from four schools and was rather discontent with society, adults, and especially people who were “phony”.  Holden saw the hypocrisy within his society and in many of the people he encountered.  In many ways, not so different from some individuals that would be labeled as “at-risk” or “in-risk”.

One of my favorite quotes (of all time) can be found in chapter two.  Holden says, “People never notice anything”.  I have always thought this to mean that Holden felt that people didn’t understand him and that they were not even willing to attempt to understand him.  It is that lack of observance (not the Torah u’Mitzvos kind), that feeling that we are not important and what we say doesn’t matter that can often lead to a lack of observance (yes, the Torah u’Mitzvos kind).  Most people want to be recognized and valued.  When parents, teachers, family members or the community give the impression that someone isn’t important or “worth the time” it can have a devastating effect on a person.  Of course, when a teen or adult gets to the point that they even contemplate the idea that Hashem forgets about them, then we get into a situation that might bring about that lack of observance.

“People never notice anything,” is a mindset that seems to go against many Jewish values.  Part of the reason I like the quote is because I see how it resonates with many people.  That’s I attempt to notice things.  I try the be first to wish others a “Good Shabbos Kodesh” or give a “Yashar Koach”.  I attempt to take an interest in what is going on in my life of those around me.   Lately I have become keenly aware of when people have a birthday coming up (mostly thanks to Facebook).  To simply ask someone how they are doing, but not push beyond the answer they give is really going only half the distance.

I know this personally, because friends will ask me how I’m doing, and my first reaction is to say, “everything is fine”.  Mostly I do this because R Yisrael Lipkin (Salanter) held that “one’s face is a Reshus HaRabim”, a public area (I believe the story goes that he saw someone looking obviously very serious during Elul and commented to this person, that showing distress might bring others down, as well).  I’m slowly realizing that if a good friend asks how I’m doing, the they do deserve a better answer than, “fine”.  This is sort of like R Dessler’s idea that even though we want to be givers and not takers, sometimes you can be a taker, like when someone really wants to give you a gift, and by taking you are giving to that over person.

“People never notice anything,” just isn’t true.  It’s easy to think that, in the big picture, our actions don’t really make a difference.  I fall into this mentality quite often as of late.  Usually, it’s really before I’m about to do something nice for someone or prior to actually making a difference.  If a novel, movie, song, or other aspect of what’s called “pop culture” speaks to our youth, I think, for myself, that it is important to find out why.  If you meet a teenager and they are into an author or a musical artist then there’s something (even if it’s completely off base) that “speaks” to that person.  This isn’t meant as an academic critique of Mr. Salinger’s book, but I’ve often wondered to myself, “What if Holden had felt that an adult understood him?”  Had that been the case, we would have had a very different story.

The taste of "Niskatnu HaDoros"

“Niskatnu HaDoros”, the diminishing of the generations, refers to the idea that each generation that is further away from the giving of the Torah, is weaker and further away from Kedusha.  You know how people say, “they don’t make them like they use to”, the “them” in this case would be someone from the previous generation in comparison to someone in our generation.  Think of that “alter Yid” you see in shul who takes time to actually kiss his siddur after davening.  Or the “bubbie” you see in the checkout line in the grocery store, quietly saying Tehillim to herself.
Now think of all the “young married guys” who, after shul is over, run to be “first” in line at kiddush.  Think of the young mother loudly talking on her cell phone while in line to purchase groceries for Shabbos Kodesh.  Yeah, these would be examples of “Niskatnu HaDoros”.  I guess that I’ve got it easy (another example of the diminishing of the generations) because I don’t have to come up with fictional examples.  I can just see it in my own kids.
The three kids that Hashem gave to my wife and I are the following ages:  10, 7, and 3.  They, like most of the kids in this dor (generation) have a penchant for any candy that’s sour.  Sour drops, balls, sticks, gum, gummys, apples, drinks, milk (ok, my kids don’t dig sour milk), etc.  They crave it.  Even the littlest one likes sour sticks.  Now, as much as my children love these items, that affection pales in comparison to the pleasure they derive from watching their Abba attempt to eat these things.  I pucker up and make, what they view as, the funniest face ever.  Why?  “Niskatnu HaDoros”, that’s why.  So, the next time you sit at a Shabbos table or schmooze with a friend over coffee and bemoan the fact that the youth of today have lost that “tam”, taste, for Torah u’Mitzvos, think of sour sticks.