Death is a highly uncomfortable and awkward subject. As a result, most people do all they can to avoid the subject altogether. While we would prefer to see ourselves as living forever, the Torah instructs us that, in fact, reflecting on our mortality and being mindful of our transience are critical to living an inspired life and making the most of each day. Indeed, it is for this reason that Shlomo Ha’Melech, the wisest of all men, encouraged us to prefer spending time in a house of mourning to spending time in a house of celebration.

Overcoming the taboo and talking about death are not only important to inspire how we live life, but are actually acts of love and devotion to those whom we will ultimately leave behind. A few years ago, a woman in our community died suddenly. She was never married and had no children, but I remembered that she had a brother. I went to her home and rifled through paperwork in an effort to find his information so that I could inform him of the terrible news. It took a significant amount of time to make contact with him and even longer to ascertain what arrangements she had made.

We usually think about the chesed aspect of death as the loving, attentive care the living show the deceased. However, there is a great chesed the deceased can show the living. The more the deceased has planned, organized, and communicated his or her wishes, the less speculation, conflict, and compounded pain the bereaved will face at their time of loss and grief. Put simply, it is not only negligent, but also unkind, not to have one’s “matters in order,” irrespective of how young or healthy he or she may presently be, or how uncomfortable it may be to think about and prepare for death.

None of us would ever intentionally cause or contribute to the pain or anguish of our family members. Yet failing to prepare likely will lead to complicating and, more likely, compounding the pain of our loved ones when we are gone.

The National Association for Chevra Kadisha (NASCK) has dedicated this Shabbos, Parshas Vayechi, to generating awareness and educating the Jewish community about end-of-life decisions. Boca Raton Synagogue is proudly participating along with hundreds of Shuls in North America. In the spirit of promoting awareness, mindfulness, and preparation, please consider, for the sake of your family, arranging the following as soon as possible:

 

1. ICE – Upon arriving at the scene of an accident or emergency, paramedics are trained to look on the patient’s cell phone for an ICE – an In Case of Emergency entry that lists emergency contacts. Access to the right person and the right information can be the difference between life and death. Add an ICE entry to your cell phone phonebook immediately and consider downloading an ICE app that will allow access to your emergency contact(s) even when your phone is locked.

 

2. Life Insurance – Both Rav Moshe Feinstein (Igros Moshe Orach Chaim 2:111) and Rav Ovadiah Yosef (Yechaveh Daat 3:85) were asked if purchasing life insurance reflects a lack of faith and trust in Hashem. They responded that as long as one remembers that it is Hashem who empowered us with the wisdom to create life insurance and enabled us with this tool to protect our families, it is absolutely permitted and appropriate. They extend this endorsement to fire, theft, and car insurance as well. Nobody ever plans to be diagnosed with a terminal illness or to be the victim of a fatal accident. We cannot predict when our end will come, but we can plan so that the pain of our loss will not be compounded by financial instability, hardship and disaster.

 

3. Disability Insurance – Life insurance can help provide for one’s family members if one dies, but what would happen if he or she suffered a debilitating injury or an incapacitating illness precluding the ability to work and provide an income? Disability insurance is only a luxury if it is never needed. We pray it will never be a necessity, but we would be foolish not to have it in case.

 

4. Halachik Living Will & Health Care Proxy – A myriad of complicated questions can arise in medical treatment, particularly at the end of life. This legal document empowers the patient to determine in advance what choices he or she would prefer within halachikly permitted parameters and who is authorized to communicate those choices to medical professionals if the need arises. Moreover, rather than leaving wishes and desires ambiguous so that others are guessing and speculating, this document spells them out. Additionally, instead of conflict arising over how decisions are reached or which halachik authority should be consulted, the halachik living will documents the decision-making process and sequence. The document can name a specific rabbi (or rabbis) or refer the decision to an organization, such as the Bioethics Committee of the Rabbinical Council of America. This is not a document reserved for the old or infirm. Every adult should have one on record and it should be reviewed and updated every few years and as circumstances demand – and discussed with your spouse, children or relatives, so your wishes are clear.

 

5. Will – Don’t leave loved ones guessing or fighting over how you want your assets divided. You work hard for your money and it should be properly distributed among family, friends, and charities in a thoughtful, intentional and halachik manner. You can use your estate to leave not only a legacy for your family, but a legacy gift to the community, Shul or schools that impacted your family. If you still have minor children, identify who will be responsible for them and ask their permission to stipulate such in your will. If you want to designate a specific piece of jewelry, art or memento to a particular person, specify that in your will or other document.

 

6. Ethical Will – In this week’s parsha, Yaakov anticipates his demise and calls his family around his death bed in order to give them each blessings and charge them as a family. Throughout the millennia, prominent rabbis and leaders have recorded ethical wills communicating their values, vision, and passions to the next generation. Don’t just leave children and grandchildren financial assets. Leave them your vision for who they could become and the most important values you hope they will pursue.

 

7. Burial Arrangements – Where do you want to be buried, including Israel? Do you want a chapel service or a graveside service? Whom would you like to officiate? Does your family know that you want a shomer, tahara, and halachik burial and for them to sit a full shiva and say kaddish? Have you bought a plot and purchased a “pre-need” package with a funeral home which is significantly less expensive that needing to buy it “at need?” Record your burial wishes in detail, including important biographical information that you would hope to be included in your eulogy, such as the major influences in your life and people and milestones that you were most grateful for or proud of. Are there particular relatives or friends or other people whom you would like to be invited to speak at your funeral?

 

8. Organized File – Perhaps most importantly, gather all of the above documentation and place it in a clearly designated place (paper and/or electronic) that your loved ones are aware of and have access to. Include your doctors, rabbi, and attorney and their contact information, your bank accounts, cemetery deed, safety deposit box (and location of keys), insurance information, financial advisors and brokers, inventory of assets and real estate, etc., so that nobody will be left guessing and searching for important information when it is needed. If you are one of those pack rats who hides money and jewelry in books or crevices around the house, tell someone where to look, so they do not get discarded with your other belongings or wind up with the next occupant of your house or apartment.

 

You may be reading this thinking it is excellent advice for someone else, for the elderly or the sick and infirm. But being responsible and planning appropriately are for every adult, every married person and certainly for every parent or grandparent. Don’t only consider making all of these arrangements yourself, but plan to speak to your children and grandchildren about their making such arrangements for themselves as well. Such preparations and arrangements are not taught in school. They rely on you to provide guidance and support in these areas. Not only is communicating these ideas to your children and grandchildren the right thing to do, but it is also in your interest, for their failure to plan, will likely become your emergency.

May we all merit to live full and meaningful lives realizing great longevity. In the meantime, let’s show our loved ones how much we care by making the proper preparations now, so they won’t have to later.

While some are counting down to Mother’s Day this Sunday with great excitement and anticipation, many are looking at the calendar with dread and anxiety.  For those desperately longing to have a child but have been denied by nature or because they are waiting to find a spouse, Mother’s Day and all the fanfare that surrounds it only pours salt in wounds.

While many of our young men and women of marriageable age assume that once a couple decides they would like start a family it is simple to conceive and bring a healthy baby into the world, the truth is not so simple.  One out of eight couples suffers from infertility, which includes the inability to get pregnant, secondary infertility, or loss of a pregnancy/stillborn.  Up to twenty percent of those who do become pregnant experience a miscarriage. Eighty percent of those miscarriages occur within the first trimester, when the couple is unlikely to have told anyone they were expecting and before the woman begins to show.

Our matriarch, Rachel, knew the pain of childlessness. She screamed out, “im ayin, meisa anochi, if I don’t have a child I am already dead,” from which the Gemara (Nedarim 64b) likens that the pain of being childless while wanting children to a form of death.  Indeed, those longing to have children describe the pain of their disappointment as the death of their dreams and hopes and the grief similar to the loss of a loved one who isn’t coming back.  Day after day of taking shots, undergoing fertility treatments, attempting IVF cycles, and going into debt to afford it all is extremely painful, but well worth it if resulting in a healthy baby.  But when the results come back negative, the procedure turns out not to help, or the IVF proves unsuccessful, the physical and material pain is negligible compared to the emotional agony and anguish.

Compounding this deep pain is the reality that most of the people struggling with infertility or who have suffered a miscarriage are grieving without anyone even knowing. They are forced to spend their days interacting with others as if all is well, when in fact it isn’t.  Since others don’t know about their struggle, they are deprived of awareness, support, love, or assistance and it leaves them feeling lonely.

Talk to anyone suffering with infertility, or with loneliness and the longing to meet someone and start a family, and they will tell you that worse than the indifference of friends and acquaintances is the unintentional insensitivity of so many who have been blessed with healthy children and who make comments, tell stories, share pictures, or complain about their kids.

Our parsha enjoins us, V’chai achicha imach, when your brother or sister is feeling down and out, uplift them and support them.  We can’t necessarily help our single family and friends find their spouse and we often don’t even know who around us is in anguish from infertility.  However, we can all do better—we must do better—to be sensitive in how we talk, what we post, when we share.

On Mother’s Day, rather than turn to social media as a public stage to profess love and appreciation to mothers and wives, we should directly and personally tell the mothers in our lives how we feel, or take the time to write a private heartfelt card making our loved one feel good without making others feel bad.

Rachel’s prayers were answered, and her hopes realized.  She not only became a mother, but is known in perpetuity as our Mama Rachel, the mother of our whole people.  Take a moment on this Mother’s Day weekend and pray that all those longing to be married and those longing to have children have their prayers answered and their dreams fulfilled.

(Since its inception, the BRS Segula Fund has helped more than 20 couples realize their dream of having a child. Unfortunately, the needs and requests continue. With your help and support, we can help and enable all BRS couples who seek our support. Please make a gift of any size at www.brsonline.org/segula or through a check made out to the BRS Segula Fund.)

Recently, President Trump formally declared the nationwide opioid drug problem a public health emergency.  Substance abuse is a growing epidemic that doesn’t discriminate based on religion, economic class, gender, or ethnicity.  As we have come to learn all too well, the frum community is not immune, either.

Experts will all tell you that drug and alcohol addiction are not about the substance, but rather, about what pain the users are trying to escape, what hole in their hearts they are trying to fill, or what aspect of their lives they desperately want to be numb to.  A young man I know recently wrote me a letter describing his experience with drugs and how he was using them to deny and escape his actual problem, the depression that was suffocating him.  “For months during that year I would go to sleep every night hoping and praying I simply wouldn’t wake up the next morning, and every morning I would open my eyes and feel the crushing disappointment of having to endure another day. Modeh Ani seemed to be mocking me.”

In the five years between 2010 and 2015, the number of teens in America struggling with depression surged to a shocking 33 percent. Teen suicide attempts increased by 23 percent.  While these numbers are dramatically lower in the Jewish community, they are still way too high and only growing.  A recent paper published in Clinical Psychological Science correlates the increased mental health issues among young people with the rise of smart phones and use of social media. It turns out that being hyper-connected generates feelings of loneliness and insignificance.

In recent, separate conversations with several young people struggling with depression, similar themes and language emerged.  They all shared feeling invisible, inconsequential, that they don’t know why they are here and that the world would be no different if they were gone.  While such thoughts are obviously unhealthy and demand attention, intense therapy, and often medication,  they also provide an insight into both what we can do to identify the population most at risk, to show support for those currently suffering, and to help those who have struggled from relapsing.

Last year, on a tour of the Library of Congress, I commented to our guide that a book we were looking at was rare.  She stopped me and said, “That book is not rare, it is unique, one of a kind.” That comment immediately got me thinking, not so much about the book, but about all of us.  So many people are struggling to find their place in the world, their value or worth.  Too many people feel irrelevant or insignificant.  We all need to know, believe and most importantly feel, that not only are we not just rare, we are one of a kind, and irreplaceable.  We each have a unique mission and distinctive purpose in this world that cannot be accomplished or achieved by anyone else.  We are each a tzelem Elokim, a distinct and special expression of the Ribbono Shel Olam in this world.  We need to know and truly believe it about ourselves, and we need to instill that message in those around us.

Not only is Modeh Ani not mocking us, it is the formula to start each and every day with a jolt of chizuk.  We end Modeh Ani with the words, rabba emunasecha, Hashem, your faith in us is great.  This phrase appears strange: we are the ones who are supposed to have faith in Hashem, why are we referencing His faith in us?  The Ribono Shel Olam prescribed these words so that we begin each day with the recognition that if we woke up this morning, if our “contract” has been renewed another day, that means Hashem continues to have faith in us, that we have a role to play in His world and that we have a personal mission to achieve.

Communicating each person’s individual worth and value must be a fundamental goal of education and is a core responsibility of parents and mechanchim.  The Piaseczno Rebbe, Rav Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, in his introduction to Chovas HaTalmidim, defines this as the essence of chinuch, education.  Based on a Rashi (Bereishis 14:14), he writes:

Chinuch is the initiation of a person or object into the trade or art for which it is destined, as in the education of a youth, the dedication of the altar or inauguration of a house.  The term chinuch is appropriate when referring to an innate talent that a person has for a certain art, or when describing the preparation of a house or object for use.  It is a special word with specific definition, and it is used to describe the realization of latent potential inherent in a person or object. If we fail to actualize that potential, it will remain concealed forever.  Our mission is to be mechanech, to educate the person so that he will become an accomplished craftsman; to prepare the house so that each room fulfills its intended purpose; or to prepare the instrument so that it performs the function for which it was designed.

The great artist Michelangelo put it well when he described his process of sculpting: “In every block of marble I see a statue as plain as though it stood before me, shaped and perfect in attitude and in action.  I have only to hew away the rough walls that imprison the lovely apparition to reveal it to the other eyes as mine see it.”

According to the Piaseczno Rebbe, the mission of each teacher and every parent is to stand before the child, see the potential in him and chip away until that potential and uniqueness is fully realized and visible to all, most of all the child himself.  Instilling a sense of worth and value within a child begins with knowing the child, and that takes time and an emotional investment.

Several years ago, an educator from Israel met with me to share his vision for creating a yeshiva that integrated a love of music with learning Torah.  He described that some connect to Hashem through music and that passion could be leveraged to grow in Torah.  His yeshiva would include time to practice and play music as a means of religious expression and would study Torah texts that focus on music.  He went around the United States meeting with educators about the idea and what he found disappointed him terribly.

When he asked them if they had students in their shiur or class who love music, he got blank stares and responses like, “I don’t know, possibly.”  For those passionate about the instrument they play or the music they listen to, it is a big part of their life and their individuality.  The Israeli educator asked me indignantly, how could people possibly be effective rebbeim or teachers and not even know such a basic fact about their students?

David Blazar, an assistant professor of education policy and economics at the University of Maryland, recently completed a study looking at the correlation between teachers’ focus on students’ confidence and well-being and their test grades.  “Many, including myself, see students’ social and emotional development as a central goal of teachers’ and students’ work,” he wrote. “Yet, accountability systems that focus predominately or exclusively on student achievement send a message that the skills captured on these tests are the ones that policymakers want students to have when they leave school.”

Blazar concluded that we need to broaden what it means to be a successful student.  Schools should measure teachers not only by their effectiveness at elevating students’ grades, but by imbuing them with confidence, happiness, and well-being.

What is true in school or yeshiva is even more true at home.  We must not communicate that our children’s worth or value is exclusively determined by their grades or how many blatt gemara they know.  They need to know they matter, they make a difference and they have a mission to achieve.  When children come home, don’t ask them how they did on their test or bechina.  Ask instead, “Did you do something nice for someone else; did you make a difference in someone else’s life today?  Did you matter?”

The young man who wrote me the letter (and gave permission to share) about his drug abuse described the multiple times he thought about taking his own life while away in yeshiva. When he finally confided in his father how he felt, he was met not with judgment or rejection, but with love and support.  He was diagnosed with clinical depression and after beginning a regimen of medicine and therapy, he concluded the letter by saying, “I really never felt better. I write this now as I start a new chapter of my life, one of honesty not of farces. Of truth not lies. Of sobriety, not drug dependence. I write this free of the burden of pretending to be something I’m not.”

Since confronting these issues and understanding them a little better, not only have I tried to act more compassionately and empathically to those in crisis, but it has changed the way I relate to everyone. The fact that these maladies are invisible means we must never assume we know everything going on in someone’s life or what motivates his or her behavior.  Ian Maclaren, the 19^th C. Scottish author once said, “Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.”  Cut others slack; give people the benefit of the doubt.

When someone you know is acting differently or unusual, don’t judge them or jump to assumptions about them.  Pirkei Avos (2:4) quotes Hillel who said: “Do not judge another until you have stood in his place.” Since it is impossible to stand in another person’s place, to be them, to have their baggage or to live their struggles, we can never judge another. Instead, we should be kind, sensitive, supportive and understanding.

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch explains the etymology of the name Chanukah derives from the same root as the word chinuch, to educate.  Explains Rav Hirsch, it used to be customary to spend time on Chanukah discussing, strategizing and recommitting to the importance of chinuch, of educating and inspiring our children.

The basic mitzvah of chanuka is ner ish u’beiso, the head of the household lights one candle and fulfills the mitzvah for his wife and children.  But, the Gemara continues, it is mehadrin, more proper, for ner l’chol echad v’echad, each person of the house to light their own menorah.

Rav Hirsch suggests that we can concern ourselves with ner ish u’beiso, lighting the fire in our heart, inspiring ourselves and making sure we are warm.  The proper thing to do, however, the enhanced way to live life, is to make sure each person in our home recognizes they are an individual flame, they can burn bright, and that they, too, have a special and unique role in illuminating the darkness.

There is nothing as gratifying and inspiring as being true to ourselves, pursuing our mission in life, and ridding ourselves of the burden of pretending to be something we are not.  With love, affection, support, and a regular affirmation of the emunah that both we and Hashem have in our children, we can stem the tide of these crises and help ensure the health and wellbeing of the generations to come.

A number of years ago, someone, who I guess felt I could use some motivation, gave me a CD of Tony Robbins to listen to.  I was excited to hear what one of the most inspirational people of modern times would have to say and how it could change my life for the better.  He started his talk by saying that he has the secret to both happiness and success.  If you follow his advice and begin each and every day of your life exactly as he prescribes, he can all but guarantee you will find yourself both happier, and achieving your goals and dreams.  I, like everyone else, want to be happy and I try to be successful in everything I do.  I was therefore, very eager to hear, what would he say next, what is the secret?

What Tony Robbins said is exactly correct, but for me, and for you, and for Jewish 3-year-olds around the world, it was nothing new.  The secret to happiness and to achieving success, he said, is to start every day of your life by expressing gratitude.  As soon as you wake up, before doing anything else, say thank you.  Be grateful and appreciative for being alive, having a roof over your head, having your health if you are lucky, your family, etc.  He continued that it isn’t enough to think appreciatively, but you need to start your day by verbalizing and actually saying thank you out loud.  If you do, the rest of your day is guaranteed to be successful and happy.

What Tony Robbins is teaching in the 21^st century, Judaism has taught since its inception thousands of years ago.  From an early age, we teach our children to wake up saying modeh ani lefanecha, I am grateful to you God for the fact that I woke up, that I am alive to see another day, for the wonderful blessings in my life and for my relationship with You.   It has been inculcated within us from our youth that we don’t wake up feeling entitled, deserving and demanding.  Rather, we wake up with a deep and profound sense of gratitude, appreciation and thanks.

In my experience, Tony Robbins is absolutely correct.  How we start our day has an incredible impact on how the rest of it will go.  This coming Sunday, we will celebrate Lag Ba’Omer, the 33^rd day of the Omer.  Each day of the omer is characterized by another kabbalistic attribute.   Lag Ba’Omer is hod she’b’hod, the glory of glory, reflecting our appreciation of God’s greatness and glory.  Alternatively, though, hod can be understood as coming from the same word as hodu, or modeh, meaning thanks.  Lag Ba’Omer is a day characterized as thankfulness within thankfulness, or a day to celebrate gratitude.

The Chassam Sofer, Rav Moshe Sofer says that the miraculous manna that fell from Heaven began to descend on Lag Ba’omer.  On the first day, the manna was undoubtedly greeted with great enthusiasm and appreciation, but as time went on and there was an increasing expectation the heavenly bread would descend, it became much easier to take it for granted and to forget to be appreciative for it at all.  Lag Ba’omer therefore, is a time that we identify and say thank you for all of the blessings that regularly descend into our lives, but unfortunately, like the manna, that we take for granted.

It is so easy to fall into a sense of entitlement and to forget to be grateful.   Why should I thank my children’s teachers, they are just doing their job.  Why should I be so appreciative to the waiter, or the custodian, or the flight attendant, isn’t that what they are supposed to do?  When is the last time we said thank you to whoever cleans our dirty laundry?  Do we express gratitude regularly to our spouse who shops, cooks dinner, or who worked all day to pay for dinner, or in some cases did both?

One person without whom we would literally not be here, but who often goes unappreciated is our mother.  Lag Ba’Omer this year overlaps wtih Mother’s Day. On Sunday, over 135 million cards will be given, millions of bouquets of flowers sold, brunches eaten, and an estimated $20 billion will be spent on gifts. With all the attention and fanfare paid to what has become among America’s most popular holidays, it is critical to remain mindful and sensitive to those who aspire to be mothers, but have not yet been blessed with the opportunity.  However, ultimately, Mother’s Day is not about celebrating the institution of motherhood, taking pride in one’s maternal instinct or even about applauding all mothers. According to its founder, Anna Jarvis, Mother’s Day is entirely about our own personal mother and recognizing her unique role and contributions to our life. Jarvis, who did not have children of her own, specifically did not call it Mothers’ Day in the plural, but Mother’s Day, the day dedicated to our singular, one and only mother.

When Jarvis introduce Mother’s Day, it didn’t take long for Hallmark and other greeting card companies to capitalize on this new holiday by selling printed cards with messages of appreciation to Moms. Jarvis was so disappointed and disturbed by the commercialization and exploitation of what she intended to be a genuinely sentimental day that she worked to rescind the very holiday that she had introduced. Mother’s Day was supposed to be about hand written, personal letters of appreciation, she felt, not about mass produced, impersonal cards that generate profit for big companies instead of engendering love and gratitude. Despite her organized boycotts, it was too late. The greeting card industry was too strong and Mother’s Day was here to stay. Over a hundred years after being introduced, I wonder what Jarvis would think of Mother’s Day today when many gush about their mother or wife on social media for the world to see, but don’t necessarily match that enthusiasm and affection offline, when nobody is watching.

On Sunday, as we celebrate Lag Ba’Omer and l’havidil Mother’s Day, let’s not just say modeh ani in the morning and then quickly transition to feelings of entitlement.   Let’s remember to say thank you to the people who do extraordinary things in our lives.  But even more importantly, let’s especially express gratitude to the people who do the ordinary things that make our lives so filled with blessing.

According to researchers in England, the average couple fights in their bedroom 167 times a year.  What do they fight about?  The survey concluded they fight about leaving a light on to read, the temperature in the room, allowing the children to sleep in the bed, and snoring.  More than anything else, however, they found that the one issue couples fight about in their bedroom most is hogging the blanket.

The Shulchan Aruch (634:1) says that the minimum size of a kosher sukkah is 7 tefachim by 7 tefachim, or approximately 2.5 ft by 2.5 ft.  For perspective, that is less than half the size of my desk.  Indeed, the Mishnah Berurah says as long as the sukkah can hold your head, most of your body, and part of your table, it is kosher.

Rav Yankele Galinsky notes that Pesach and Sukkos have many similarities and parallels, yet there is one glaring difference.  On Pesach we spread out, recline, and dine like royalty. In contrast, on Sukkos, we squeeze and squish into our fragile, flimsy, temporary small huts.  Once we are all inside, pressed up against one another, when there is no room left, we first begin to recite the ushpizin and invite guests to come join us.  Not only do we welcome Avraham, Yitzchak, etc. but v’imach kol ushpizei ila’ei, come one, come all, plenty of room for everyone.  Where?

Israeli war hero and statesman Moshe Dayan was once stopped for speeding by a military policeman. Dayan argued: “I only have one eye.  What do you want me to watch – the speedometer or the road?”

The quality of so much of our life experience is contingent on which eye we use to see.  It is not so contingent on what we see, but rather how we see.  The Mishnah in Avos (5:22) encourages us to be the students of Avraham Avinu and not Bilam.  Avraham is characterized by having an ayin tova, a generous eye, while Bilam lived with an ayin ra’ah, a stingy, critical eye.

Living with a good eye, a kind, optimistic, positive and magnanimous view is not mutually exclusive from having an ayin ra’ah, a negative, stingy, judgmental, pessimistic and intolerant view.  In truth, all of us have both, and employ different pairs of eyes depending on the moment, the circumstances, and our mood.

In marriage, in parenting, in friendships and in life, there are times we are in a place with someone in which they can do no wrong.  We feel particularly close to them for whatever reason at that moment and so when they do things that would otherwise bother us, we don’t notice, we give them the benefit of the doubt, we laugh away their idiosyncrasy, we excuse their behavior, and we see them only with our ayin tova, our generous eye. Psychologists have studied this natural behavior and even coined their own term: The Halo Effect.

Other times, however, when we feel alienated or disaffected from someone, we see them exclusively through our ayin ra’ah, our critical eye and they can do absolutely no right.  It is as if they are already on our bad side before they even woke up in the morning.  The smallest slight, otherwise normal behavior on their part, grates at us, irritates us, and drives us crazy.

What determines if we are looking at our husband or wife, our son or daughter, our friend, neighbor or co-worker with an ayin tova or an ayin ra’ah?  Certainly their behavior and choices influence how we see them, but all else being equal, in circumstances when they are behaving the same way but we are in a different place, the only thing that determines our perspective and viewpoint and by extension our relationships and happiness is us.

The Talmud (Sanhedrin 7a) says – when a couple’s love is strong they can sleep on the edge of a sword with room left over.  When their love is weak, a bed that is sixty amos (90 feet wide) will feel cramped and out of room.

The bed is an objective size; the blanket has fixed dimensions.  What determines if it feels cramped or spacious – only our perspective and our view.

Rav Galinsky explains that Sukkos is the holiday of unity.  We have spent the High Holidays bonding, reconciling, repairing our relationships and striving to form a bond.  We feel a closeness and a love and therefore we see with an ayin tova giving others the benefit of the doubt, being tolerant of our differences, choosing to dismiss slights and hurts and seeing the good in the person.

Rav Galinsky notes that on Pesach we have four sons, four cups, and on Sukkos we have four species, but there is a big difference.  Each of the four sons has his own independent question and we give each an individual answer.  The four cups are invalid if consumed in combination.  The Talmud (Pesachim 105b) says you must drink them one at a time.

In contrast, the four species of Sukkos must be taken b’agudah achas, bundled together, taken as one unit in order to be kosher.

Our sukkos are objectively small, close quarters. Will we feel cramped, crowded, and confined?  Will we be going crazy, needing our space, craving a break?  Or will our Sukkah feel roomy, spacious, and with plenty of room for others to join?  Will we look forward to the next meal and more conversation?

The answer is not found in the dimensions of our sukkah, or in the quality of the food, or even in the behavior of our guests.  It is found in ourselves.  If we put on our ayin tova, our generous eye, there will be all the room in the world.  If we are seeing through our ayin ra’ah, our critical view, there isn’t a sukkah big enough in the world for us to be comfortable.

The Mishnah in Avos 5:5 lists ten miracles that occurred in the Beis HaMikdash.  One of them is that people stood crowded yet bowed down spaciously and nobody said that it was cramped.  The Chassam Sofer (y.d. 2:234) explains: Har HaBayis, the Temple Mount, was objectively crowded.  The miracle was that nobody felt confined or restricted because of the joy and love they felt at that moment.

Howard Schultz, the Chairman and Chief Global Strategist for Starbucks, visited Israel in 2011 and wrote an article upon his return.  He related an encounter that he and a number of high-powered executives had when they met with Rav Nosson Tzvi Finkel, zt”l, the former Rosh Yeshiva of the Mir:

Gentlemen, the elderly rabbi began, who can tell me the lesson of the Holocaust? The Rabbi called on one of the men who was surprised to be singled out and he began meekly, “We will never, ever forget …” The Rabbi indicated this was not the right answer… No one wanted to be called on next. Schultz avoided eye contact with the teacher so he wouldn’t be recognized. Another man spoke up saying “We should never be a victim or a bystander.”  The elderly Rabbi dismissed this answer as well.

At this point, Schultz said the entire group felt reduced to a group of elementary school students.  Then the Rabbi responded in gentle but firm voice, “Let me tell you the essence of the human spirit.  As you know, during the Holocaust, people were transported in the worst possible inhumane way, by cattle cars, convinced they were going to prisoner of war camps but ultimately they ending up in death camps. After hours and hours in the stifling crowded cattle car with no light, no bathroom, nowhere to sit, they arrived in the camps freezing cold and hungry.  The doors of the rail cars were swung wide open and the people inside were blinded by the light.

Men and women were separated, mothers were torn from their daughters and fathers from their sons, and they were herded off to bunks to sleep.  Only 1 person out of 6 was given a blanket. And at that moment, that person, who was fortunate enough to be handed that blanket, had a choice: am I going to push the blanket to the other five people who didn’t get one or am I going to pull it toward myself to stay warm?  Am I going to give or am I going to take?  It was during this defining moment that we learn the power of the human spirit, when people pushed the blanket to five others.” With that, the Rabbi stood up and said “take your blanket, take it home and push it to five other people.”

This Sukkos, let’s see our sukkah, our blanket and our love as big enough to share with other people.

Many cynics assume that Mother’s Day was invented by the greeting card industry and they are only half wrong. In 1905, Anna Jarvis of West Virginia lost her beloved mother whom she respected, admired and loved beyond words. She began a campaign to create Mother’s Day as a recognized holiday in the United States in order to honor, “the person who has done more for you than anyone in the world.” She was successful in convincing several states to officially recognize the day and ultimately in 1914, Woodrow Wilson signed the proclamation creating Mother’s Day, the second Sunday in May, as a national holiday to honor mothers.

It didn’t take long for Hallmark and other greeting card companies to capitalize on this new holiday by selling printed cards with messages of appreciation to Moms. Jarvis was so disappointed and disturbed by the commercialization and exploitation of what she intended to be a genuinely sentimental day that she worked to rescind the very holiday that she had introduced. Mother’s Day was supposed to be about hand written, personal letters of appreciation, she felt, not about mass produced, impersonal cards that generate profit for big companies instead of engender love and gratitude. Despite her organized boycotts, it was too late. The greeting card industry was too strong and Mother’s Day was here to stay.

This year, on the 100^th anniversary of Mother’s Day, over 133 million cards will be given, millions of bouquets of flowers sold, brunches eaten, and an estimated $20 billion will be spent on gifts. With all the attention and fanfare paid to what has become among America’s most popular holidays, it is critical to remain mindful and sensitive to those who aspire to be mothers, but have not yet been blessed with the opportunity.   However, ultimately, Mother’s Day is not about celebrating the institution of motherhood, taking pride in one’s maternal instinct or even about applauding all mothers. According to its founder, Anna Jarvis, Mother’s Day is entirely about our own personal mother and recognizing her unique role and contributions to our life. Jarvis, who did not have children of her own, specifically did not call it Mothers’ Day in the plural, but Mother’s Day, the day dedicated to our singular, one and only mother.

This week, the N.B.A. bestowed its highest personal honor, the MVP, Most Valuable Player Award on the Oklahoma City Thunder’s Kevin Durant. At the reception celebrating his achievement, Durant who is incredibly competitive, aggressive and relentless on the court, was clearly emotional while thanking his teammates, coaches, fans and friends. He couldn’t fight back tears when he came to his final thank you addressed to his mother, Wanda. He told her, “We weren’t supposed to be here. You made us believe. You kept us off the street. You put clothes on our backs. Food on the table. When you didn’t eat, you made sure we ate. You went to sleep hungry. You sacrificed for us. You’re the real M.V.P.”

While Durant was receiving an award for his athletic prowess, halfway around the world in our Holy City of Yerushalayim, l’havdil Rav Aharon Lichtenstein Shlit”a was receiving the prestigious Israel Award for his contributions in the field of Jewish Religious Literature.   Rav Aharon, as he is affectionately known, is an extraordinary Talmid Chacham, Rosh Yeshiva, teacher, thinker and writer whose brilliance is only surpassed by his modesty and model character. In an interview years ago, when it was suggested to him that many of his students believe that his passion for Torah learning began when he first encountered Rabbi Joseph B. Solveitchik who would later become his father in law, Rav Aharon was quick to correct the record. He explained that in fact, it was his mother, Bluma, herself a product of Telz in Lita, who was the driving force to ensure that her son would become a Torah scholar. She arranged special teachers and advanced learning opportunities for him as young man and made special efforts to position her son as a prized student of Rav Yitzchak Hutner, long before he ever met the Rav.

Whatever success we achieve in life, whatever accomplishments we earn, would not be possible without the woman who not only brought us into the world, nourished us, nurtured us and cared for us, but empowered us, inspired us and propelled us forward to become the people we are, our mothers. Mothers have a special role and a critical voice in our development. It isn’t just that they changed our diapers, tucked us in to sleep, nursed us back to health when we were sick, packed our lunches for school, and patiently did our homework with us. Our mothers had a much more significant pedagogic role to play.

In his eulogy for his mechutenesta, the Rebbetzin of Talne, Rabbi Soloveitchik spoke about his own mother and said:

People are mistaken in thinking that there is only one masorah, and only one masorah community, the community of the fathers. It is not true. We have two masorot, two traditions, two communities, two shalshalot ha-kabbalah [chains of tradition]- the masorah community of the fathers and that of the mothers. “Thus shalt thou say to the House of Jacob [=the women] and tell the children of Israel [=the men]” [Exodus 19:3], “Hear, my son, the instruction of thy father [mussar avikha], and forsake not the teaching of thy mother [torat imekha]” [Proverbs 1:8], counseled the old king. What is the difference between these two masorot, these two traditions? What is the distinction between mussar avikha and torat imekha? Let us explore what one learns from one’s father and what one learns from one’s mother.

From one’s father one learns how to read a text- the Bible or the Talmud, how to comprehend, how to analyze, how to conceptualize how to classify, how to infer, how to apply, etc. One also learns what to do and what not to do, what is morally right and what is morally wrong. Father teaches son the discipline of thought as well as the discipline of action. Father’s tradition is an intellectual-moral one. That is why it is identified with musar, the biblical term for discipline.

What is torat imekha? What kind of a Torah does the mother pass on? I admit that I am not able to define precisely the masoretic role of a mother. Only by circumscription may I hope to explain it. Permit me to draw upon my own experiences. I used to have long conversations with my mother. In fact, they were monologues rather than a dialogue. She talked and I “happened” to overhear. What did she talk about? I must use a halakhic term in order to answer this question. She spoke of inyana de-yoma [the affairs of the day]. I used to watch her arranging the house in honor of a holiday. I used to see her recite prayers. I used to watch her recite the sidra [weekly Torah portion] every Friday night; I still remember the nostalgic tune. I learned much from her.

Most of all I learned that Judaism expresses itself not only in formal compliance with the law but also in living experience. She taught me that there is flavor, a scent, and a warmth to mitzvot. I learned from her the most important thing in life- to feel the presence of the Almighty and the gentle pressure of His hand resting upon my frail shoulders. Without her teachings, which quite often were transmitted to me in silence, I would have grown up a soulless being, dry and insensitive.

The laws of Shabbat, for instance, were passed on to me by my father; they are part of musar avikha. The Shabbat as a living entity, as a queen, was revealed to me by my mother; it is a part of torat imekha. The fathers knew much about the Shabbat; the mother lived the Shabbat, experienced her presence, and perceived her beauty and splendor.

The fathers taught generations how to observe the Shabbat; the mothers taught generations how to greet the Shabbat and how to enjoy her twenty-four-hour presence.

Rabbi Soloveitchik never attended a Yeshiva. All of his formal Torah learning came from his father. And yet, it is his mother whom he credits with awakening and nourishing his soul. “Without her teachings, which quite often were transmitted to me in silence, I would have grown up a soulless being, dry and insensitive.”

This Sunday, on the 100^th anniversary of Mother’s Day, let’s make Anna Jarvis proud. Instead of purchasing a mass produced greeting card, hand write a letter to your Mother and thank her for being “the person who has done more for you than anyone in the world.” Let’s never take for granted the toras imecha, the unique roles of our mothers and the lessons we have learned from them.

Two weeks ago, Adrian Peterson, a professional football player, suffered an unimaginable tragedy when his two-year-old son died as a result of child abuse.  Forty-eight hours later, he played football saying, “Football is something I will always fall back on.”  Whether you view it as playing a game or returning to work, Peterson’s reaction, while seemingly extreme, is not in fact unusual.

In an article in Sports Illustrated, Jon Wertheim provides examples of other athletes who responded to tragedy by returning to business as usual.  In September of 2012, 19-year-old Tevin Chris Jones was killed in a motorcycle accident.  Tevin’s brother, Torrey Smith, a wide receiver for the Ravens, played in a game just 24 hours later and delivered one of his best performances, catching six passes for 127 yards and scoring two touchdowns.  In 2003, famed quarterback Brett Favre played one day after losing his father and turned in one of his most legendary and spectacular performances in a nationally televised Monday night game. In 1990, weeks after his mother’s death, Buster Douglas knocked out the previously undefeated Mike Tyson.

The capacity to display tremendous resilience and return to life so soon after suffering loss seems extraordinary.  However, Wertheim argues, it is in fact quite ordinary.  He references George Bonanno, a professor of clinical psychology at Columbia University in a study entitled, “Loss, Trauma and Human Resilience: Have We Underestimated the Human Capacity to Thrive After Extremely Aversive Events?”  Bonanno found that there is little evidence that grief is incapacitating.  “Resilience is the norm,” he said, “Not the exception.”

Wertheim argues that rather than urging taking time off for bereavement, we should encourage people to recognize that they have the resilience of Adrian Peterson and that they could get back to their work immediately.  As I read the article, I couldn’t help but think, they could, but should they?  Just because people may have greater capacity for resilience than they know, does that mean they should deny themselves the opportunity to grieve and mourn and display the resolve to move on?  Is moving on really the best response to death?

The members of BRS’s new Kaddish Club definitely don’t think so.  Last week, our Shul inaugurated a new club that we only wish had no members.  The Kaddish Club meets once a month and is comprised of those within their year of mourning for the loss of a loved one.  I am grateful to my colleague and friend, Rabbi Shaul Robinson of Lincoln Square Synagogue, who gave me the idea for this fantastic initiative.

Our first meeting was attended by close to 20 of our members and brought together a diverse group, many of whom might otherwise not have met or spent time together.  We studied the origins of the Kaddish prayer and why it is so closely associated with mourning, considering that it doesn’t include any reference to death or loss at all.  The conversation that flowed was intense, powerful and, I hope and believe, therapeutic.

While the loss of a parent is not the same as that of a child, and the loss of a sibling is not the same as the passing of a spouse, the group bonded over a shared feeling of intense grieving and the pain of transitioning to life without their loved ones.   They shared their reactions to the Jewish way of mourning such as the difficulties in trying to never miss a Kaddish, having to schedule vacations near shuls and schedule dinner around davening.   While limiting how many families you can share a meal with, missing simchas, refraining from listening to live music and growing a beard for thirty days can be difficult or uncomfortable, the consensus of the group was that the Jewish laws of mourning are a tremendous gift, and they couldn’t imagine confronting death without them.

Just imagine going back to work a day or two after the funeral as if everything is normal when it isn’t.  Shiva and its rules provide an ingenious cathartic system that centers the focus on the departed and offers a perfect setting for others to share comforting stories, anecdotes and memories without the mourner being distracted by feeling pressured to go back to work, return to the gym or cook dinner.   Shiva makes space to mourn and grieve.  During shiva, instead of pulling the bereaved out of their pain and away from their sadness towards us, we join them in their sadness and attempt to extend comfort and consolation.

Sheloshim, the thirty-day period, allows the mourner to begin to transition back to everyday life while still forcing the world to remain cognizant that something for them is different.  For the loss of a parent, the year becomes the final period of mourning.  Not being allowed to attend a simcha, be part of a large social gathering, or take in a concert for 12 months, is a relief to most mourners who are grateful not to need to find an excuse or justify their absence when the truth is they really don’t feel like celebrating or being joyful while their wound is still open and raw.

While the pain from loss of a sibling, spouse or child is usually acknowledged, many downplay the loss of a parent as it is part of the natural cycle of life.  Many don’t realize that losing a parent at any age is devastating, despite our knowledge that the day will come.  Rabbi Marc Angel wrote a book over twenty-five years ago called, “The Orphaned Adult: Confronting the Death of a Parent” in which he addresses the impact of becoming an orphan, even at an advanced age.  The pain and anguish of becoming an orphan doesn’t disappear in a day or two and doesn’t get resolved by simply going back to work.  It deserves to be addressed, validated, and provided an opportunity to express itself in grief and sorrow, just like the loss of other immediate relatives.

So, can we show the resilience to return to work after suffering a loss – perhaps yes. Could we perform at our best, and maybe even better, so soon after losing a loved one? The science suggests we can. But should we – I definitely don’t think so. People deserve an opportunity to grieve, mourn and to focus on their pain without guilt or distraction, and to receive solace and comfort from those who care about them.  We are so blessed and fortunate to have a tradition that provides a framework for doing so.