Shaarei Tzedek – Orthodox Judaism in Downtown Toronto

via Chabad.org

The Talmud relates that the great Sage R. Yochanan ben Zakkai wept before his death, saying: “There are two paths stretching before me, one to Gan Eden [Heaven] and one to Gehinom. I know not on which I shall be led.”

It goes without saying that R. Yochanan ben Zakkai was concerned as to whether he had attained a sufficient level of holiness to enter Gan Eden. Why did he voice his apprehension only on his deathbed? His spiritual status should have been an ongoing concern.

Every Jew is entrusted with a unique Divine mission that he is to accomplish during his lifetime. He is allotted a specific time in which to accomplish that task — not one day more and not one day less.

When a Jew fails to make use of a day, an hour, or even a moment, in pursuit of his mission, he not only fails to achieve his fullest spiritual potential, but more importantly, he has failed — during those moments — to accomplish his entrusted task.

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By Simon Jacobson, Meaningful Life Center

What is more powerful: A strong touch or a soft one? A loud thud or a gentle song? A forceful shove or a delicate prod? Is love experienced more though aggression or through tenderness?

Touch. Music. Beauty. Love. Every experience that stirs the heart and soul is actually a bridge between the sensory and the supra-sensory: A loving look, a harmonious melody, wine on the palate, a fragrant flower, a mother’s touch – they all stimulate a sense. But just. Like a sliding skate on ice or a strumming string on a fiddle, the stimulated sense opens a door to a place that is far beyond any tangible and describable experience. The more subtle, the more powerful.

In one word: Sensuality – where the senses meet that which is beyond the senses. A loving caress is indeed tangible; yet, simultaneously intangible. A touch that just glances the surface, but ignites an eruption of feelings.

Yet, sensuality has a complex history. For all its allure, it is not always associated with purity and innocence. Some even see it as antithetical to the spiritual. In fact, modern dictionaries translate “sensual” as “lacking in moral or spiritual interests; worldly,” “relating to or consisting in the gratification of the senses or the indulgence of appetite.”

Let us revisit the roots of sensuality.

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by Rabbi YY Jacobson

There is an enigmatic Talmudic passage explaining a peculiar phrase in this week’s portion (Yisro): “They (the Jewish people) stood in the bottom of the (Sinai) mountain (1).”

What is the meaning of the words “in the bottom of the mountain”? (A more appropriate sentence would have been, “they stood at the bottom of the mountain,” or “near the bottom of the mountain,” not “in the bottom of the mountain”!)

The Talmud explains (2) that the Jews were actually standing inside the mountain, in the bottom of the mountain. “G-d enveloped them with the mountain as though it were an upturned vat, and He said to them: ‘If you accept the Torah, fine; if not, this will be your burial place.’”

The event at Sinai is viewed as the marriage ceremony between G-d and the Jewish people (2*). Imagine you would hear of a groom who, on the day of the wedding, placed his bride under an elevator and declared: “If you marry me, great; if not, the elevator will come down on your head.” What would you feel about such a groom? And how would you feel about such a relationship?

Couldn’t G-d have found a more “romantic” way to convince the “bride” to marry Him?

What is even more puzzling is the fact that according to the biblical narrative (3), the Jewish people had already expressed their willingness to accept the Torah before this event. Why was it necessary for G-d to coerce them into something they had already agreed upon (4)?

Let us present the explanation offered by one of the greatest spiritual masters, the founder of the Chassidic movement, the Baal Shem Tov (5).

Numb Days

There are days when we are emotionally in touch with our inner human depth and our inner G-dliness. At such times we are inspired to live deeply, to love deeply, and to fulfill the mission for which we are alive.

But then come the days when we feel estranged from our souls. We are emotionally numb, experiencing ourselves merely as self-centered and materialistic creatures seeking to satiate nothing more than our momentary cravings. We are not in the mood for G-d or the deeper truths of existence. We are too busy or stressed to even contemplate the inner meaning of what it means to be alive. At such times of spiritual alienation, we often succumb to mundane and selfish behavior. Since we feel disconnected, we act as though we are indeed disconnected.

In a creative way, the sages are suggesting, Judaism at its moment of inception, confronted this basic human condition of inner fragmentation and uncertainty. By G-d forcing the Jewish people to enter into the relationship — even though they had agreed already — He demonstrated to them that their relationship was not based on the fact that they were consciously passionate about it. Even not on the fact that they embraced it volitionally. The relationship was an inherent and an essential condition (6). Man, in the Jewish imagination, is an innately spiritual and divine creature. “Even when you are not in the mood for me,” G-d was saying, “our relationship is as strong as ever. You can act on it.”

By placing the mountain on their heads, G-d was demonstrating that the essential relationship between Him and the Jew was not dependent upon the Jew being “up to it,” excited about it, and enthused by it. Even when I am not in the mood of serving G-d, yet I serve Him regardless knowing that this is the truth, a genuine and authentic relationship it is. At the very inception of the relationship, G-d made sure to establish the truth that our oneness was not dependant on the feelings about that oneness.

(In Yeshivishe terminology – for those familiar with this jargon – also a life style based on “Kabalas Ol Malchus Shamayim” has a “chalos” shem relationship, and is not considered a failed relationship).

Rocky Moments

In the Jewish tradition, the marriage of each man and woman reflects the cosmic marriage between G-d and His people (7). There are the days when we feel truly grateful for our spouses and experience deep love toward them. At such times we crave to give of ourselves to our spouses and make their lives happier.

But at other times we become cold and apathetic. We just want to do “our own thing” and simply are not in the mood for the relationship. Often, a spouse may even evoke negative emotions in the heart of the other, resulting in a feeling of estrangement and detachment.

In the majority of cases, it would be a sad error to act upon those feelings of detachment. For the Kabbalah teaches (8) that a wife and husband are essentially “two halves of a single soul.” At their core, they are one. Thus, when a couple enters into marriage, it needs to recall what G-d reminded us at the day of His marriage: Whether we are in the mood for each other or not, we are one.

Such a commitment could save many marriages when they encounter rocky times. After all, it saved the marriage between G-d and the Jews.

~~~~~~~

Footnotes:

1) Exodus 19:17.
2) Shabbos 88a.
2*) See, for example, Mishnah Taanis 26b; Shemos Rabah end of section 15.
3) Exodus 24:7.
4) This question is raised among many of the Talmudic commentators. See Tosfos, Eitz Yosef, Pnei Yehoshua, Shabbos Shel Mi and BenYehoyada to Talmud Shabbos ibid. Midrash Tanchumah Noach section 3. Daas Zekeinim Mibbalei Hatosafos on Exodus 19:17. Maharal Tiferes Yisroel ch. 32, Gur Aryeh on Exodus ibid. and Or Chodash p. 45. Sources noted in Pardas Yosef to Exodus ibid.
5) 1698-1760. This idea was transcribed by his famed disciple, Rabbi Yaakov Yosef of Pulnah (Ben Poras Yosef Parshas Vayeishev. Cf. Nesiv Metzvosecah Nesiv HaTorah 1:28). For alternative explanations see referenced noted in previous footnote as well as in Torah Or Megilas Esther p. 96c; 118c.
6) Cf. Tanya chapters 14, 16, 18-19, 25, 28, 41, 44.
7) See commentaries to Song of Songs. Maimonides’ Laws of Teshuvah ch. 10. Zohar Vayikra p. 7

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By Simon Jacobson, Meaningful Life Center

Are you indecisive? Do you vacillate? Are there important decisions in your life that you are postponing – and with very good excuses which you may rationalize as “reasons”?

None of us are immune from inertia. As mere mortals we have our different fears and insecurities. Mood swings and circumstances don’t help. Often, life’s overbearing pressures simply wear us down, leaving us with little strength to break out of patterns and “make a move.” The silent, lethargic power of habit should never be underestimated.

And even when you finally make a “decision” to move, how often does that decision turn into an extended process that, years later, still awaits resolution? It’s one thing to be inspired; it’s quite another to maintain and implement the inspiration.

As we dig deeper into the psyche, this weakness exposes a more fundamental human flaw: Do we have unwavering identities, or are we products of the changing winds around us?

The only thing consistent about me, a friend jokes, is that I am inconsistent. Or as another poet put it, the only thing we knew for sure about Johnny was that his name was not Johnny.

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By: Rabbi David Lapin, iawaken.org

Journeys are typically linear. They are a means of getting from one point to another. Some journeys are not about getting from one place to another but about the experience itself. A trans-Atlantic voyage for example, is linear; a Caribbean cruise may well be circular. A cruise, unlike a voyage, is an end in itself.

Journeys bring about change. A voyage changes your location. A cruise may change your mind-space. You may land up at the same geographical point from which you departed, but your experience will have been different and you will probably be in a different mind-space from when you departed.

Often in life we take journeys of change. Sometimes they are exotic vacations. Sometimes we go away on a course or to study in Yeshiva for a period. Sometimes we take a Sabbatical. Perhaps we go to a health spa. There are times when we don’t choose our own journeys. Sometimes they are journeys through hard times, pain, illness or loss. They all entail arriving at a place of different being from where we were before the journey.

The journey of Benei Yisrael through the desert was designed to take them  from Mitzrayim to Israel. It was however also designed to change their mental and spiritual state. In telling us about this journey the Torah teaches us something so fundamental about journeying. We learn in Shemot 13:18 Vayaseiv elokim et ha’am derech hamidbar, Yam Suf  (“And Hashem took them on a circuitous journey through the desert by the Red Sea”). In the previous verse the Torah tells us the reason G-d opted for the circuitous journey rather than the linear one: “Lest the people have remorse when they experience struggle [1] and return to Egypt”.

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via Chabad.org

In the Torah portion Bo we read that, “G-d said to Moshe and Aharon in Egypt: ‘This month shall be the head month to you; it shall be the first month of the year.’“ We learn from here that it is a mitzvah to “sanctify months, set leap years, and establish the festivals of the year according to the determined sanctification.”

Our Sages note that the entire Torah might have begun with this commandment, “for it is the first mitzvah that the Jewish people were commanded.”

The very fact that of all 613 commandments the Torah chose to begin with this one indicates that this mitzvah contains an element fundamental to all the rest.

What is so special about this commandment?

The primary function of the mitzvos is to enable man to permeate the world with goodness and holiness. Thus all mitzvos involve the transformation of physical objects into mitzvah-objects, entities of holiness.

This, too, is the overall theme of the commandment to sanctify the new month: The court sanctifies a certain day and declares it to be Rosh Chodesh, the beginning of the month — not an ordinary working day, and one which establishes when the holidays shall be celebrated.

In addition to the above, this commandment is inherently first in theme and content: Although the world is a composite of both space and time, and time is bound up with space, nevertheless, time precedes space. For all of Creation, including space, implies an aspect of change — present conditions are compared to the past, i.e., to conditions prior to creation.

Thus, before anything was created, including space, there already existed an entity subject to change — time. Therefore the starting point of all creation is time.

This is true in terms of man’s experience as well. First comes the actual day, and only then can man make an impact on that day by transforming physical objects.

Sanctification of the new month is thus the first commandment, for sanctity is first imbedded in time — the beginning of existence — and only then comes man’s interaction with physical objects — the aspect of space.

There is yet another all-encompassing aspect to this mitzvah: All of creation was brought about in order to be sanctified through the Jewish people’s performance of Torah and mitzvos. This is a theme that affects all of creation at all times and in all places.

A Jew’s service consists of actualizing and revealing the ultimate purpose within all things. When a Jew performs a mitzvah with a particular object, he thereby fulfills the object’s reason for being, and the object becomes a mitzvah-object.

For example, when a Jew transforms an animal’s hide into parchment for a Sefer Torah, tefillin, or mezuzos, that animal’s hide attains the purpose for which it was created — the hide has now become imbued with holiness.

Since time, too, is created, it is readily understandable that it is meant to fulfill the same purpose as the rest of creation.

Herein lies the additional significance of this most important command: Through the Jewish people’s sanctification of months — Rosh Chodesh and festivals — they reveal that the true purpose of time is to be sanctified.

For in reality the sanctification of any one month affects not only the establishment of Rosh Chodesh and the festivals in that month, but alters the entire time continuum, so that all of time becomes permeated with the realization that it is to be filled with goodness, holiness, and mitzvos.

(Based on Likkutei Sichos Vol. XXVI, pp. 59-65.)

via Chabad.org – Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe

At the “Covenant Between the Parts” G-d said to Abraham: “Know that your children shall be strangers in a land not theirs, and they will enslave them and afflict them… and afterwards they will go out with great wealth.”

For much of our history, we have indeed been strangers in a land not ours. There was the Egyptian Exile that preceded our birth as a nation; the Babylonian Exile that followed the destruction of the First Temple; the Greek Exile during the Second Temple Era; and our present exile, which began with the Roman destruction of the Holy Temple in 69 ce and from which we have yet to emerge after more than nineteen centuries under the hegemony of alien powers.

Exile — galut, in Hebrew — is much more than a person’s physical removal from his homeland. A person in exile is a person severed from the environment that nourishes his way of life, his principles and values, his spiritual identity. In exile all these are in jeopardy, for the onus is now on him alone; he must call upon his own resources of resolve and perseverance to survive. In the words of our sages, “All journeys are dangerous.”

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