One Step at a Time

I recently read a story about one of the most successful magazine entrepreneurs in the world. The man was raised by a single mother in the Midwest, struggled growing up, and was failing out of high school. He promised his mother he would take the SAT test, though he didn’t expect to get a good score. He was shocked to learn he got a 1480 out of 1600 on the SAT. His mother, knowing her son, asks, “Did you cheat?” He swore to her he did not. And suddenly, things started to change.

In his senior year he decided since he’s smart he should attend classes. He stopped hanging out with his old crowd. The teachers and kids seemed to notice. They started treating him differently. He graduated, attends community college, went on to Wichita State, and eventually to an Ivy League university. He went on to become a successful magazine entrepreneur.

You might be looking at this story as someone who was really smart all along but just needed the standardized test to unlock his potential. No. That isn’t the story. What comes next is the important part. Twelve years after his fateful SAT exam, the man gets a letter in the mail from Princeton, New Jersey. He doesn’t think anything about it. The next day his wife asks him if he’s going to open the letter.

He opens it. It turns out the SAT board periodically reviews their test-taking procedures and policies. He was one of 13 people sent the wrong SAT score. His actual score was half of what he thought he got: 740. People had been saying his whole life changed when he got the 1480. What really happened is his behavior changed. He started acting like a person with a 1480 and started doing what someone with a score like that does.

Indeed, though not often thought of in this way, that is what Yom Kippur is about. Most mistakenly think that Yom Kippur is a day to feel worthless, a total failure, a mess-up, an underachiever. After all, we spend this day literally smacking ourselves and counting one by one the ways we have failed, the mistakes we have made. It seems a bit much. Yes, it is sobering and productive, but can’t we say vidui once? “I shouldn’t have done x, y and z,” mean it sincerely, then move on, break our fast. Why must we hit our chests and confess over and over and over again? Is perpetually beating ourselves up what this day is literally all about?

We say towards the end of our Yom Kippur Amida, עַד שֶׁלּא נוצַרְתִּי אֵינִי כְדַאי, וְעַכְשָׁו שֶׁנּוצַרְתִּי כְּאִלּוּ לא נוצָרְתִּי. “God, before I was formed, I was unworthy, and now that I have been formed it is as if I had not been formed.” I dread arriving at these words each year, words that are debilitating, deflating, and really very depressing. They come from the Gemara (Berachos 17a) – Rava said them at the conclusion of the Amida every day. I was nothing before, I am nothing now, what is the point of living at all?

Rav Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook reads this disheartening tefilla in a very different way. He explains it is in fact empowering, inspiring, and motivating. It is the answer and response to the imposter syndrome, to feeling worthless and a fraud. Explains Rav Kook, “Before I was formed, I was unworthy” means that each and every one of us enters the world at the exact moment when we are needed. Before we were formed, there was no need for us. Hashem sends us into His world at the exact moment when we are worthy — that our skills, talent and abilities and even our challenges are uniquely needed by the universe, by the world, by our neighbors, family and friends. We are precisely what the world needs at the moment we arrive and for the time that we are in it.

Until now I wasn’t needed, but if I am here, I must answer the call, live up to that potential in me, recognize my ability and be the person the world was waiting for and needs at this moment. Rav Kook is teaching us that the vidui of Yom Kippur, our confession and admission, is not our failures, not a list of rules and regulations we violated per se, rather it is more an admission and confession of failing to realize the potential inside us, indulging in temptations, urges and impulses that distracted us from our core mission, from who we are meant to be. If we forsake our mission, if we squander our time and resources, if we fail to see the potential inside us and to believe in our power, then “now that I have been formed it is as if I had not been formed.”

Yom Kippur is not to beat ourselves up, but to raise ourselves up, to use 25 hours for an honest look in the mirror, to admit the potential that is inside us, to regret the ways we have failed to realize it and to pledge to make our existence purposeful, meaningful and impactful.

Degel Machaneh Efraim cites the Baal Shem Tov in explaining the pasuk we recite today (Tehillim 71:9) אַֽל־תַּ֭שְׁלִיכֵנִי לְעֵ֣ת זִקְנָ֑ה כִּכְל֥וֹת כֹּ֝חִ֗י אַֽל־תַּעַזְבֵֽנִי , Do not cast me off to old age; when my strength fails, do not forsake me! The simple understanding is this is a tefillah that one maintain his physical strength, vigor, and cognitive faculties through old age.

But the Baal Shem Tov explained that Dovid Hamelech was asking for help in a different way. Al tashlicheini, don’t cast me off to old age, don’t let me act like a person who has a fixed mindset, who is done, a finished product, who considers his or her book complete, done. Let me not live a stale life, give my mitzvos and my life, my mission and my purpose freshness, energy, vibrancy and dynamism.

It was said that in Kotzk, there was no such thing as an old man. An older individual simply contained in him three or four younger people. He may have been eighty years old, but he was full of energy and enthusiasm, he is constantly moving if not physically, spiritually. Today, it is often the other way around: a young person is a third of an old man. He lacks a sense of vitality, of life. He might be physically agile, but if someone has given up on themselves, if they aren’t fighting to be independent and add their unique voice to the world, they have reached eis ziknah.

Late in his life, Rav Aharon Soloveitchik zt”l had a massive stroke. He recovered but it was very hard for him to walk. I will never forget watching him make his way to the YU Beis Medrash on his own two feet. He had a walker, dragged one side of his body, and involuntarily let out a load groan with each step he took.

It was hard, arduous, undoubtedly painful, but Rav Aharon wanted so badly to walk into the Beis Medrash on his own two feet. Two people would walk with him holding him. He would walk step by step, very slowly into the Beis Medrash. When asked why he would not accept help, he explained that he wanted to walk on his own as much as possible to be makayeim the beracha of hamaichin mitzadei gaver, Hashem guides our steps.

When Rav Aharon passed away, at his levaya it was described that when he would take each step towards the Beis Medrash he would count like the Kohain Gadol on Yom Kippur sprinkling the blood in the Kodesh HaKadashim: Achas. Achas V’Achas. Achas V’shatyim.

In his broken state, in great pain, with tremendous effort, he recognized that whatever I am up to in life, that’s the most important step in the world. That’s my personal Kodesh Hakadashim. We have to see our next step, our next moment, our next action as our holy of holies, something so important, so meaningful to the universe, the fulfillment of why we are here. We cannot be Netzavim. Like Moshe at the end of his life, like Rav Aharon at the end of his life, we must be Vayeilech, keep moving, keep taking the next step and then we are young no matter how old the calendar says we are.

One beracha. One tefilla. One shiur. One page of Gemara. One Mishna. One demonstration of Emunah and bitachon. One great parenting moment or marriage moment of patience, love and affection. One gesture of kindness. One act of tzedakah. Al tashlicheinu, don’t cast me to old age, I’m young and vibrant and ready to go one step at a time, like the Kohen Gadol. That is our avodah: achas, achas v’achas, one step, one moment at a time.

The world didn’t need you until you were born. That was Hashem’s decision. But now that you are here, what will you do with it? Achas v’achas, take it one step at a time.

Don’t wait for the world to recognize your greatness. Unlock your potential, act like the person you are meant to be, and people will treat you like that person. More importantly, you will see yourself, treat yourself and believe in yourself as that person.

Imposter Syndrome and the Real You

Have you ever felt like a fraud?

Ever experience that sentiment that you’re a fake, that you are making this up as you go and, eventually will be found out and exposed? It could be in your professional life, your private life, your religious life, or really anything. If you have felt this way, you are not alone. Studies have shown that 40% of successful people do not believe they deserve success. As many as 70% of people have felt like an imposter at some time or other. But we aren’t the first to struggle with this phenomenon, some of our greatest leaders did too.

When it is time for Aharon to approach the Mishkan, Opening Day of this house for Hashem, he hesitates and demurs. Moshe says, don’t worry, come, come, you are in charge, you got this. Why was he resisting, why did Aharon keep his distance? Rashi, quoting Chazal, explains that Aharon felt like a fraud, he was ashamed and fearful to approach. Moshe knew that feeling, he was familiar with that sensation. When Hashem had tried to recruit him to lead he replied, לא איש דברים אנכי, I am not a speaker, not a leader, this isn’t for me. Hashem said, you got this, I know you better than you know yourself. And so having been there himself, Moshe turns to Aharon and says “למה אתה בוש לכך נבחרת, why are you embarrassed, you were born for this role.”

There is a name for what Aharon, and earlier Moshe, was feeling. It is called imposter syndrome, coined in 1978 by two clinical psychologists, Pauline Clance and Suzanne Imes. People who suffer from it feel that they don’t deserve success. They attribute any success not to their effort and ability but to luck, or timing, or to the fact that they have deceived others into thinking they are better than they actually are. Those who suffer from imposter syndrome feel like they are making it up as they go, in contrast to everyone around them who really know what they are doing. Husbands and wives feel it, mothers and fathers feel it, accountants, lawyers, businesspeople, doctors and yes, rabbis feel it. A feeling of faking it on the outside while imprisoned by a gnawing feeling of unworthiness on the inside.

On Rosh Hashana, the birthday of humanity, we remember the truth and the truth is that Hashem knows us, loves us, believes in us, and needs us. The truth is when we are successful in our relationships with Hashem, those around us and ourselves, we aren’t imposters or fakers. That is our reality. It is when we come up short, give up or give in, fail to fulfill who we are meant to be, slip and indulge an urge to say, watch or do the wrong thing—that is when we are frauds, that is when we are fakers, because that isn’t the real us.

We aren’t defined by our worst moments, or our worst thoughts, actions or attitudes. The truth is that Hashem sees the best in us, holds on to our best moments, our glimpses of greatness. We mistakenly think the real us is the one who loses our cool with our spouse or children, the one who looks at the wrong things when nobody is looking or indulges the urge to say the wrong thing to curry favor with the listener. We also mistakenly think that when we show up despite our shortcomings that this makes us imposters. But that thinking is wrong, it simply isn’t the emes! The emes is that when we are able to stay calm and be patient with those we love, when we have the discipline to do the right thing despite being tempted to follow our urge, that is who we really are, this is in fact the true us.

“לצופה נסתרות ביום דין”, we usually translate as “He looks for and sees the hidden on judgment day” but Rav Avraham Zvi Kluger understands it as, “He longs, looks, digs up our purest intentions.” Similarly, in Zichronos we say: כִּי אֵין שִׁכְחָה לִפְנֵי כִסֵּא כְבודֶךָ וְאֵין נִסְתָּר מִנֶּגֶד עֵינֶיךָ. We usually understand these words to mean that we can’t hide things from Hashem, for He remembers all that we have conveniently chosen to forget. But Rav Kluger says we are misreading, misunderstanding, and misrepresenting what Rosh Hashana is about. The Torah doesn’t call Rosh Hashana Yom Hadin, it calls it Yom Zikaron, not only a day to remember there is a Hashem, but it is a day for us to remember who we are and who we could be, to recognize we aren’t imposters but are leading lives filled those good moments that represent who we truly are.

We may feel like imposters, we may sometimes feel useless or invisible, we may look back and see mistakes and have regret but, ein shichecha lifnei kisei kevodecha, from Hashem’s vantage point we are each unique, inimitable, we are each here for a reason and our best moment as a man or woman, as an eved Hashem, as a mother or father, as a son or daughter, as a davener, learner, chesed doer or charity giver, and that is the real us, that is who we can be, that is the emes. We are defined by our strength not our weaknesses, we are our best moments, not our worst. While we have to take ownership and responsibility for our failures, we deserve the success and achievements we have earned.

In Oros HaTeshuva, Rav Kook writes: “The primary role of Teshuva…is for the person to return to their true selves, to the root of their soul. Then we will at once return to Hashem, to the Soul of all souls.”

In 1977, Laura Schultz, 63, was in the kitchen of her home in Tallahassee, Florida, when she heard her 6-year-old grandson screaming from the driveway outside. Schultz ran to the door to find her grandson pinned beneath the rear tire of a full-size Buick. Giving no consideration to limitations or barriers, Schultz ran to the car, used one hand to lift the rear of the vehicle and used the other hand to drag her grandson to safety.

For years, Schultz refused to speak about the incident. After finally agreeing to an interview with peak performance coach Dr. Charles Garfield, Schultz was asked why she had remained silent about her miracle. Schultz revealed that the incident had actually scared her and reminded her that she’d wasted most of her life living far beneath her true potential. If she had that strength inside her all along, why hadn’t see realized it or utilized it more often or more fully?

With a little coaching from Garfield, Schultz returned to college, earned her degree and went on, at nearly 70 years of age, to fulfill her long-held dream of becoming a college professor.

Like Schultz, we often deny our strengths, we think the rare moments where we shined, we thrived, we excelled as parents, spouses and in our relationship with Hashem, they are aberrations, they aren’t true, we shouldn’t speak about them.

But we are wrong! See in yourself what Hashem sees, know who you are and what you are capable of. Don’t ignore the strength that is inside you. Your best moment as a mother or father, as a husband or wife, as an eved Hashem, that is the real you. Believe it, embrace it, nurture it, and grow it.

Whatever you may now be telling yourself that you can’t do, do it! It’s never too late to summon forth the full extents of your God-given potential. Your best moment, your strongest moment is the real you, your real potential, the gift that you are to the world.

Exploding Pagers, Exploding Memes

If you submitted the script to Hollywood, it would be rejected for being too outrageous and unbelievable. If you proposed it as a plan, it would likely be dismissed for being too high risk, with too many things that could go wrong.

And yet, in a bold, brave and brazen scheme, Israel spent years planting more than 5,000 pagers that were distributed to Hezbollah leaders and that were capable of being remotely detonated. One day last week, the pagers exploded. The next day, more electronic devices detonated in Hezbollah hands in a second wave of the genius targeted attack. By the third day, when the wicked terrorists had no choice but to abandon technology altogether, Israel eliminated 20 commanders who were meeting in person to plan an October 7-style infiltration and attack from the north.

How did they pull it off? We likely will never fully know but what we do know is that a Hungarian shell company was formed that signed an agreement with a Taiwanese manufacturer. The pagers were new, a brand that the group had not used before. They were brought into the country about five months ago.

This operation that interfered with the supply chain and introduced very small explosive devices built into the pagers prior to their delivery to Hezbollah, and then remotely triggered them simultaneously, is nothing short of a miracle for which we must be incredibly grateful. We are thankful to the young woman who allegedly introduced the scheme, the leadership who green-lighted it, the operatives who carried it out, and most of all the Almighty whose providence pulled it off.

Not surprisingly, the usual cast of Israel haters and antisemites, instead of praising the targeted operation that was specifically designed to target and eliminate evil terrorists while sparing civilians, criticized and condemned Israel, with some going so far as to label the operation terrorism.

United Nations Secretary-General António Guterres said he was “deeply alarmed” by the beeper attack. UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, Volker Turk, said the attack “violates international human rights law.” Having been silent about Hezbollah’s 8,500 rockets fired at civilians in Israel in the last 11 months that took the lives of dozens of Jews and non-Jews alike, Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez commented, “This attack clearly and unequivocally violates international humanitarian law and undermines US efforts to prevent a wider conflict. Congress needs a full accounting of the attack, including an answer from the State Department as to whether any US assistance went into the development or deployment of this technology.” The New York Times published an opinion piece titled, “Israel’s Pager Bombs Have No Place in a Just War,” with the author, Michael Walzer, calling the operation “likely war crimes” “terrorist attacks.”

Like Hamas, Hezbollah has long harbored genocidal intentions to annihilate Israel and kill Jews around the world, intentions they act on constantly. The devices that exploded were not sold at retail stores—they were specifically deployed to communicate regarding terror activities and they were carried by terrorists who were dedicated to perpetrating them. There is nothing more moral than defending your country and the innocent men, women, and children who rely on you.

Instead of condemning or criticizing Israel, AOC and all Americans should be expressing gratitude and praise for eliminating Ibrahim Aqil, wanted by the United States for decades for his role in the devastating 1983 attacks at the U.S. Embassy and Marine barracks. America had been trying to get him for 41 years and had a $7 million bounty on his head.

As I followed the story of Hezbollah’s devices, and the technology they paid for blowing up in their faces, I shared in the gratitude, admiration, glee and hope that we are one step closer to eliminating this enemy for good.

As quickly as the pagers blew up, the funny memes, gifs, and jokes were exploding all over the internet, in WhatsApp groups, and on social media. The creativity and wittiness made me smile and sometimes even laugh. But as the jokes went increasingly viral, in addition to the smile, they made me concerned because they weren’t only drawing the attention of Israel’s friends, they were attracting the focus and comments of our enemies.

Make no mistake – we can be and must be absolutely grateful and even celebrate the defeat and demise of enemies who seek to destroy us. However, in the modern world where things spread far and wide with unprecedented ease, I believe we need to be thoughtful and intentional with where, and when, and how we “celebrate.” These questions concern me not because I hesitate to be glad and even gleeful over the elimination of evil people. Shlomo HaMelech teaches in Mishlei 24:17, “When your enemy falls, do not rejoice,” but as Rav Aviner writes, “there are enemies, and there are Enemies.” The Talmud (Megillah 16a) teaches that when Mordechai was led around on a horse by Haman, Haman challenged, “Doesn’t your Torah instruct that you are not supposed rejoice in your enemies fall.” to which Mordechai responded: “This does not refer to you.” Today’s enemies are no better than Haman and worthy of the same celebration when they are taken down.

There is a well-known Gemara (Sanhedrin 39b) that describes how when the angels wanted to sing and join with the Jewish people’s celebration after the Splitting of the Sea, the Almighty rebuked them saying, “My handiwork is downing and you are singing a song before me?” The Angels were silenced, yet the Almighty allowed and welcomed the Jewish people raising their voices in song. Do we not strive to be like angels? Why was it ok for us to sing?

The Piazetna Rebbe, R’ Kalman Kalonymous Shapira Hy’D, wrote during the Holocaust: “Was an angel ever hit? Was an angel ever murdered? Was an angel ever humiliated? We were! The angels did no suffer as we did in Egypt, so they could not sing. But we did suffer – suffered immensely – and therefore, during the the Exodus from Egypt, ‘Moshe sang.’”

And so yes, when learning of news of the destruction of Hezbollah terrorists, prayers of gratitude and appreciation in the community are appropriate and warranted. A l’chaim among friends and family to mark the miracle of the courageous pager attack and for each evil that is eliminated is reasonable. (The same is true of the beautiful videos of singing and dancing that took place in several Israeli yeshivas, which were expressions of gratitude to Hashem and joy in His salvation.) And there is nothing wrong with sharing memes or jokes among ourselves, even if they are irreverent and humorous. However, I think all would agree handing out candies at the local mall to celebrate would be a mistake and inappropriate. They could and would easily be perceived (and gleefully covered by the media) as Jews celebrating and glorifying death, as being no different than our enemies. Where do the internet and social media fit in? Are they a more public extension of our private community or WhatsApp group, or is it the equivalent of publicly displaying memes and gifs at the local mall or town square?

Some are hesitant to gloat because they are uncomfortable with the Jewish state being in the role of aggressor, the mighty, strong, and capable independent nation standing up for themselves. This kind of thinking is just wrong and an entirely illegitimate reason on which to base our behvaior. But, it has been suggested that spreading funny and embarrassing memes and gifs should be considered part of the online war effort, publicly humiliating our enemies. Perhaps. Others feel that the world will never love us or be fair to us and so who cares what they will think. There is merit to that. Still others feel the messaging and impression we leave in public matters and we should be thoughtful and strategic what, how and where we post and share. There is definitely merit to that.

This, like most questions about the war (among many other things) is nuanced, multifaceted, and complicated. There are different reasonable conclusions. What I hope we can all agree on is that we shouldn’t simply react and act mindlessly and get swept up in what is spreading around us. If we are choosing to post, to share, to comment publicly, it should be done mindfully and thoughtfully. The stakes are too high, the implications to great to be carried by momentum or by the forces of external actors.

Please God, we will have many, many, more chances in the very near future to react to the destruction and elimination of our enemies. Let’s be as strategic, thoughtful and judicious in how we fight online as the fight is happening offline.

Assassination Attempts and Bucket Lists

“0 – 2.”

That was the defiant tweet former President Trump posted shortly after an assassination attempt on his life earlier this week, the second in less than three months.

The first time, Trump came within inches of losing his life and while the second time the would-be assassin didn’t get off a shot, Trump couldn’t help but feel he escaped death yet again. Reflecting on the incident, one of his sons said, “My father is running out of lives.”

The truth is one doesn’t need to be a former president, a current candidate, or a target of assassins to be concerned with mortality. Many people experience the mortality alarm in mid-life, triggered by the loss of a parent, a diagnosis, a near-death experience or just general “FOGO,” fear of growing old. As we age (and for some even in our youth) when we think about the dangers of this world, the uncertainty of life, the risk of illness, natural disasters, terrorist attacks and more, one can’t help but spend their life thinking about their eventual death.

While confronting mortality and contemplating the fragility of life can be debilitating and anxiety-producing, it can also be enormously motivating and inspiring.

The Gemara (Berachos 5a) teaches:

אָמַר רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן בֶּן לָקִישׁ: לְעוֹלָם יַרְגִּיז אָדָם יֵצֶר טוֹב עַל יֵצֶר הָרַע, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״רִגְזוּ וְאַל תֶּחֱטָאוּ״ אִם נִצְּחוֹ — מוּטָב, וְאִם לָאו — יַעֲסוֹק בַּתּוֹרָה, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״אִמְרוּ בִלְבַבְכֶם״. אִם נִצְּחוֹ — מוּטָב, וְאִם לָאו — יִקְרָא קְרִיאַת שְׁמַע, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״עַל מִשְׁכַּבְכֶם״. אִם נִצְּחוֹ — מוּטָב, וְאִם לָאו — יִזְכּוֹר לוֹ יוֹם הַמִּיתָה, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״וְדֹמּוּ סֶלָה״.

Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish said: One should always incite his good inclination against his evil inclination…If one succeeds and subdues his evil inclination, excellent, but if he does not succeed in subduing it, he should study Torah…
If he subdues his evil inclination, excellent; if not, he should recite Shema…
If he subdues his evil inclination, excellent; if not, he should remind himself of the day of death.

As human beings with an animal soul, we are drawn to the material, physical world around us. We struggle with desires, drives and appetites that relentlessly tempt us. Our rabbis teach when we feel we are in the throes and the grip of our alter ego, our animal impulse and instinct, we should follow a formula. First, try to show discipline, employ your positive inclination. If that isn’t successful, engage in Torah study to ground you and calm you. If that doesn’t work, say Shema, contemplate before Whom we must give an accounting. If we are still tempted, struggling and on the verge of indulging, the last resort is to contemplate the day of death.

(The Vilna Gaon says that the Rebbe Shimon Ben Lakish’s advice is alluded to in the verse rabos machshavos b’lev ish, v’atzas Hashem hi sakum. The Gra notes that “sakum” is the acronym for Torah, kerias shema and misa.)

Death is a motivating factor. Thinking about our mortality, considering the finality of death, serve to remind us to live and live life to its fullest. Perhaps that is why Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year, is in some ways a dress rehearsal for our deaths. From Kapparos, the death of a chicken to atone for our mistakes, to the wearing of the kittel, the white garment that we will literally be buried in, to the Torah reading of Acharei Mos, “after the death” of the two sons of Aharon, the day is replete with references to death. We read of the asara harguei malchus, the ten holy martyrs murdered by the romans. We recite Viduy, the confession that is also said by someone on their deathbed. We abstain from eating, drinking and physical comforts and pleasures as if we are already only a soul devoid of a body. The Talmud says that Yom Ha’Hakippurim atzmo m’caper, u’misah m’chaperes, Yom Kippur and death atone for our mistakes.

Yom Kippur, like every encounter with death, urges us into the fullness of living. It should not be the most depressing day of the year, but rather can be our happiest if we use it to inspire our best year, a year in which we cross things off our bucket list. A bucket list is a list of goals and objectives to accomplish before we kick the proverbial bucket and it is too late. There are many books, websites and apps that encourage and promote people to create their own lists of what we want to do before we die.

There are classic lists, adventure lists, food lists, indulgent lists, and everyday lists like make someone smile, dance in the rain. Some want to skydive and others make a handmade quilt. Some want to travel to exotic locations and others taste unusual foods.

Our lists reveal a great deal about us. Confronting mortality means considering the question, what is on your list? What do you want to achieve or experience before it is too late? Does your list include making a million dollars, or making a difference? Does it include finishing a TV series or finishing Shas? Does it include spending time on vacations and trips or spending time with spouses and children?

Once you identify what is on your list, ask yourself, why haven’t you done it yet, what is holding you back or what is in your way?

You don’t need to be shot at to think about mortality. Considering death should inspire our best life. Write your bucket list and more importantly, start checking things off.

A Shul Built Thanks to a Rotisserie Chicken

One day in 2022, Azriel was minding his own business when he got a call from Charlotte. She introduced herself as the president of Congregation Anshei Shalom, a large Conservative Temple in Century Village in West Palm Beach, Florida and she asked him to come to a meeting of her board. Despite not having any idea why he was called, Azriel agreed to attend the meeting.

It turns out, CAS may have been a large temple in square footage but was shrinking and now fairly small in membership. They used to have 1,000 members but were now at the point that they couldn’t put a minyan together even counting men and women combined. There are 2,000 yahrzeit plaques on the walls and essentially that is where nearly all their membership is today.

The board was interested to find out if the growing orthodox population in the area was interested in renting space for their services. The chapel has a separate entrance and separate bathroom facilities enabling two groups to simultaneously use the campus while maintaining their separate identity and function.

Azriel listened to the proposal and responded that he is just a simple Jew, not any sort of macher or leader in Century Village and that he lives a mile and a half away, probably too far to even be able to attend Shabbos services. He said, “I love you with all of my heart, not as cousins but as my brothers and sisters. However, the likelihood of Orthodox people renting space at the Temple is very remote.” He explained that they could try to work something out but that a long-term deal to share space was very unlikely. They ended the meeting with the possibility of continuing the conversation but pessimistic they would work something out.

Azriel went to his Orthodox shul the next morning for davening and told some of the chevra there about this meeting. One friend advised to go back to Charlotte and offer her 1 million dollars to purchase the shul and the campus. The man said he would back up the finances.

Azriel called Charlotte and set up a meeting with the board for the following week. They sat down and he asked them how much would they want for the building. They explained that they had actually done an appraisal and it was worth $6 million. Azriel turned to them and said, I don’t know about that but I will give you $500,000. Additionally, he told them that he would keep every single dedication plaque in the building and would maintain the yahrzeit lights on the thirteen memorial boards. The current temple would be able use the building through the end of the year and the new group would take over January 1. Lastly, he agreed that the large Israeli flag would continue to fly outside the building.

A week later, Charlotte called Azriel to inform him that the board had accepted the offer. Overjoyed, he was prepared to wire over the half million dollars and close the deal.

If only it was that simple. The United Civic Organization of Century Village, where the campus is located, held their board meeting. The president of Century Village got up in front of the whole crowd and said that they have heard that some unknown guy by the name of Azriel has purchased the CAS building for $500,000 and that Century Village is opposed to this sale. He proclaimed that they will do everything in their power to stop the sale and take over the building by themselves. He insisted they will knock down the building and put up a shopping center there and to comply with the deed restriction set up by the original builder of all the Century Villages providing that there has to be a house of worship there, Century Village will put in a Presbyterian church in one of the storefronts.

Charlotte and Azriel got wind of what happened and the efforts to interfere with the sale they had agreed upon. The two had the same exact thought. Rather than conduct a sale that could be overruled, Azriel and his friends would all join CAS as members, he would then run for and get elected president, and CAS could keep its name and change its charter. Azriel, of course, had his motivations, but Charlotte, too, was devoted to the continuation of the shul, the yahrzeit lightings, the dedication plaques, and that all of the investment in Yiddishkeit that previous members there had put in for over 50 years.

At this point, Charlotte said to forget about the $500,000 and just give $100,000 to pay out CAS’s outstanding bills and obligations. Azriel wired the money and he and his chevra officially took over the board.

At the next Century Village United Civic Organization meeting, Azriel took the microphone and explained to the crowd that he had been elected the President of the Board, there would be no sale of the CAS building, and that services and the shul would continue. Everyone clapped and that put that whole issue to rest.

In December, Azriel met with Charlotte for the handover of the keys to the building. She gave him the keys and told him that she only ended up using $45,000 of the money to pay the bills. She then proceeded to hand him back $55,000.00.

In the end it cost a grand total of $45,000 for a campus that occupies over eight acres of land, includes a main sanctuary that seats 750, with two kitchens, a large social hall, and several offices. There is a large library and beis medrash.

The story of Congregation Anshei Shalom is extraordinary but there is one question that was still left to be asked. Azriel wanted to know, why him? How did Charlotte find him and why was he the one she called, seemingly out of the blue, about the possibility of an Orthodox congregation renting space?

Azriel moved to Century Village around ten years ago. He met a neighbor, Janet, who told him about a kosher bakery at BJs on State Rd 7 in Royal Palm Beach. Janet would buy her Shabbos challah there and, she added, once she’s there she would buy the rotisserie chicken for Shabbos from there as well.

Azriel couldn’t understand. Janet, at the time was close to 90 years old. She would shlep five miles for kosher challah and yet she had no problem eating treif chicken? Azriel had an idea. He would going to Glicks in Delray each Friday morning to buy food for Shabbos and food for the following week. He started picking up a chicken for Janet each and every Friday and leaving it on her door handle for Shabbos.

Every Monday night, Janet played in the same mahjong game with Charlotte. One week, Charlotte is describing how her temple is hemorrhaging members and in financial trouble. She shares that since so many Orthodox Jews are moving in, maybe they would be interested in the space, she just wishes she knew someone to call about the possibility of renting. Janet says, I know just the person, I have an amazing neighbor who is so kind and thoughtful, he picks up a kosher chicken for me each and every week.

For $45,000, a large Orthodox shul now hosts three weekday Shacharis minyanim, two weekday Mincha/Maariv minyanim, two Shabbos morning minyanim, Daf Yomi shiurim, and so much more… all because a simple Jew cared about his neighbor and brought her a chicken weekly.

The word Elul, the month we find ourselves in, is an acronym for many phrases and pesukim. Perhaps the most famous, Ani l’Dodi v’Dodi li, I am to my Beloved and my Beloved is to me, reflects our special loving relationship with our Creator and the effort we are instructed to make during this time of year to come closer and closer with Him. Less famous but as important is the acronym, taken from the words of Megillas Esther, “ish l’reiehu u’matanos l’evyonim, a person to their friend and generosity to those who need.” This time of year is also dedicated to coming closer with one another, displaying care, concern, connection, and community. How devoted are we to our neighbors, without caring if we are similar or different? Are we generous with those who may feel isolated or alone?

A single parent was recently telling me how few invitations he has received since his divorce and how alone the children and he feel.

Caring about our neighbors is the right thing to do, but it is also what Hashem looks for and loves, His children caring for one another. We describe Hashem as tzilcha, our shadow. His attitude towards us is a shadow, a reflection of how he sees us act towards other. If we want Him to judge us favorably and show devotion to us, we need Him to see us devoted to and caring about our neighbors.

For the cost of a rotisserie chicken, we can create and show love, to an entire community.

Missing Apologies to the Hostages

“Ok, sweet boy, go now on your journey, I hope it’s as good as the trips you dreamed about, because finally, my sweet sweet boy, finally, finally, finally, finally you are free. I will love you and I will miss you every single day for the rest of my life.”

It was hard to not be brought to tears listening to these piercing words, uttered by Rachel Goldberg-Polin as she bid farewell to her beloved son Hersh. After his arm was blown off on October 7, Hersh survived 11 months in captivity, held hostage by barbaric and brutal terrorists, but before he could be rescued or released, Hersh and five other hostages were executed in cold blood, their bodies discovered soon after by heroic IDF soldiers.

Rachel shared a message of love and of gratitude but also included an apology. “At this time, I ask your forgiveness. If ever I was impatient or insensitive to you during your life, or neglected you in some way, I deeply and sincerely request your forgiveness, Hersh. If there was something we could have done to save you, and we didn’t think of it, I beg your forgiveness. We tried so very hard, so deeply and desperately. I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t the only one to react to this horrific outcome with an apology. At Hersh’s funeral, President Isaac Herzog also expressed a request for forgiveness from Hersh and his family and from all of the hostages: “Beloved Hersh, with a torn and broken heart, I stand here today as the president of the State of Israel, bidding you farewell and asking for your forgiveness, from you, and from Carmel, from Eden, from Almog, from Alex, and Ori, and from all your loved ones. I apologize on behalf of the State of Israel, that we failed to protect you in the terrible disaster of October 7, that we failed to bring you home safely. I apologize that the country you immigrated to at the age of 7, wrapped in the Israeli flag, could not keep you safe. Rachel, Jon, dear Leebie and Orly, grandparents, and the whole family – I ask for your forgiveness, forgiveness that we could not bring Hersh back home alive. Your special light, Hersh, captivated all of us from the first glance, even through the posters crying out for his return.”

In a press conference later that day, in the context of pressure on him to reach an agreement, Prime Minister Bibi Netanyahu also joined the chorus of apologies. “To the families of the six hostages, I ask for your forgiveness that we did not succeed in bringing them home alive. We were close, but we did not make it.”

Certainly cynics and critics will challenge the sincerity of politicians’ apologies, why and when they are offered and if they should be accepted if there was, in fact, more that they could have done.

On that day of apologies what struck me was not who offered them, but who did not. Make no mistake – the biggest apologies should be issued by the evil perpetrators who committed and continue to commit these atrocities, their associates, supporters, and backers. Of course, we are not holding our breath for these apologies. Yet there are plenty more that also are notable in their absence.

Hersh was an American citizen and was also failed by the country of his birth. In all the statements released by members of the US Administration there was no apology, not even a lip-service request for forgiveness for a failure to bring him home. Were they really “working day and night” non-stop? Could overwhelming pressure not have been applied with increased sanctions on Iran, pressure on Qatar with the threat of withdrawing our bases there, withholding aid to Lebanon and Egypt, pressure on Turkey and more? Where is the apology for pressuring Israel not to go into Rafah, a decision that may well have contributed to this horrific result? Where is the apology for withholding arms to support Israel’s effort against Hamas?

Where is the apology from the Red Cross, who failed to visit or protect Hersh or any of the hostages even once?

Where is the apology from humanitarian organizations who are outspoken about innocent civilians in Gaza but failed to protect and secure the release of Israeli hostages?

Where is the apology from the UK who, while five British citizens are still being held hostage in Gaza, and days after Hamas executed six hostages, suspended thirty arms licenses to Israel?

Where is the apology from Canada who took over 24 hours to condemn the murder of the hostages by Hamas in Gaza and then proceeded in the same statement to call for an immediate ceasefire?

Where is the apology from the members of the media who referred to the hostages as “having died” rather than accurately reporting their murder, who refer to civilians in captivity as “prisoners” rather than “hostages,” who write about other hostages being “freed” when the reality is they were rescued?

Where is the apology from the world who, less than a century removed from after the most heinous genocide in history, yet again failed to protect the Jewish people and, in the time that has followed, still fail to truly support our full right and ability to protect ourselves?

While everyone seems to have fairly strong opinions on the matter, the question of whether the leaders of Israel could have or should have made more compromises to reach a deal that would have brought these hostages home is incredibly complicated and difficult with grave consequences in both directions. Though they certainly aren’t directly guilty for the murder of innocent Israelis, ultimately leaders are responsible for the safety and security of their people. President Herzog and Prime Minster Netanyahu were right to take ask for forgiveness for having failed in that role.

What I’m thinking about most, though, is that while some have apologized, and we are waiting for others to ask forgiveness, there is one more group who needs to reflect and should be expressing responsibility.

Our Parsha, Shoftim, tells the story of a corpse found in the field with no indications or evidence as to who the murderer is. The Sanhedrin justices are charged with the task of measuring to determine which is the closest city to the scene of the crime. An eglah, a calf in its first year that has not worked and is not blemished, is executed in the valley. The leaders of the city and the Kohanim are present and a declaration ensues.

The elders of the city proclaim:

יָדֵ֗ינוּ לֹ֤א (שפכה) [שָֽׁפְכוּ֙] אֶת־הַדָּ֣ם הַזֶּ֔ה וְעֵינֵ֖ינוּ לֹ֥א רָאֽוּ׃ כַּפֵּר֩ לְעַמְּךָ֨ יִשְׂרָאֵ֤ל אֲשֶׁר־פָּדִ֙יתָ֙ יְהֹוָ֔ה וְאַל־תִּתֵּן֙ דָּ֣ם נָקִ֔י בְּקֶ֖רֶב עַמְּךָ֣ יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל וְנִכַּפֵּ֥ר לָהֶ֖ם הַדָּֽם׃

“Our hands did not shed this blood, nor did our eyes see it done. Absolve, Your people Israel whom You redeemed, and do not let guilt for the blood of the innocent remain among Your people Israel.” And they will be absolved of bloodguilt.

The Ibn Ezra explains this seemingly unusual process, the Egla Arufa, as a procedure designed to achieve atonement not so much for the murder, as for the sins of the townspeople which, metaphysically, allowed a murder to take place in their vicinity. If a tragedy unfolds in a community, it is cause for introspection to examine what did they do wrong and how could this have happened there.

The Jewish people collectively owe an apology to the victims of October 7, to the heroic soldiers who have been at war since then, to the hostages, and to all of those suffering during this difficult time. We aren’t the perpetrators and would never directly harm a fellow Jew, but if these monumental events are happening under our watch and in our backyard, we are responsible both metaphysically and spiritually. We could and should be bigger and better to one another and to Hashem.

If only we were worthy, if only we truly woke up, if only we changed how we treat one another, how we represent Hashem in this world, following His word and repairing the world in His image, this Galus and this suffering would end.

To Hersh, Carmel, Eden, Almog, Alex, and Ori, to the 1,611 who have died and the 101 still being held hostage, from the bottom of our hearts and from the depths of our beings, we apologize. We are sorry we haven’t learned the lessons of our history. We are sorry we didn’t do all we could and should to create a different destiny. We ask for your forgiveness and we promise to be better and to do more until we live in a way that is worthy of finally changing our condition forever with the coming of Moshiach.

“Stuck” and “Stranded” in Space

They went for eight days but will end up being stuck there for eight months. Suni Williams and Butch Wilmore, two NASA astronauts, traveled to the International Space Station in June on Boeing’s Starliner spacecraft. However, during the test flight for their return, the propulsion system malfunctioned, and engineers determined it wasn’t safe enough to bring the two astronauts back to Earth alive.

NASA and Boeing officials have been careful with their language describing the circumstances, reluctant to use the words, “stuck” and “stranded,” which would reflect poorly on them. Describing their predicament, Suni also avoiding those words, saying, “Butch and I have been up here before, and it feels like coming home. It’s great to be up here, so I’m not complaining.”

Cynics are challenging the diplomatic description of the “extended stay.” Delian Asparouhov, a founder and the president of Varda Space Industries, posted on X: “I don’t know about you, but if I got stuck at an airport for seven months longer than expected, that would definitely qualify as ‘stranded.’”

Starliner, the spacecraft that brought them, will return to Earth unmanned, and the two astronauts are set to return in February on a SpaceX Crew Dragon spacecraft. The two have plenty of supplies and say they aren’t anxious about their extended stay or being stuck. Wilmore’s wife Deanna told AP that her husband is “content” at the space station, “neither worrying nor fretting.” She said he has faith God is in control, and that this gives his family “great peace.”

While it may not be for eight months, many of us feel stranded or stuck in situations or places we find ourselves: a cancelled flight, a hospital stay, an unexpected business trip, a long line, even a traffic jam, and it is hard to just feel that it is an “extended stay.” The key is to know and internalize that God is in control and thorugh that to find great peace.

In 1967, Mrs. Miriam Swerdlov attended a Chabad-sponsored convention for women and girls in Detroit. After the inspiring event, while waiting to board the plane home, Miriam and about 20 other women learned that the flight was canceled due to a snowstorm. The women were somewhat panicked, feeling their families needed them, they had been gone long enough, and really needed to return home.

The group rushed to a payphone and called the Chabad headquarters in New York to ask the Rebbe what to do. Mrs. Swerdlov recalled how the leader of the group, Mrs. Miriam Popack, spoke with Rabbi Binyomin Klein, the Rebbe’s secretary and told him that they were stuck in Detroit. He put them on hold, and a minute later came back on the line: “The Rebbe doesn’t understand the word ‘stuck,’” he said. Mrs. Popack proceeded to explain what the word stuck meant, to which Rabbi Klein replied, “The Rebbe knows what stuck means. The Rebbe says that a Jew is never stuck.”

Caught off guard by the Rebbe’s response, the women immediately got the message and rose to the occasion. They spread throughout the airport and began handing out Shabbat candles to the Jewish women they met. The result: “There are women and families today all over the United States lighting Shabbat candles because we got ‘stuck’ in Detroit.” (As told by Mrs. Miryam Swerdlov, Here’s My Story (JEM) No. 121)

On Tisha B’av, we had the opportunity to interview Sapir Cohen who was abducted from Nir Oz on October 7 and held by Hamas for 55 days. She described being dragged out from her hiding spot under a bed, placed on a motorcycle between two terrorists, and driven back into Gaza where she was abused by civilians. She talked about her harrowing time being held first aboveground and then in a tunnel where she encountered Sinwar.

Her first few days being held hostage, Sapir described she kept replaying what had happened, second-guessing her decisions. Why had she and her boyfriend gone to his family for the Chag? Why did she hide under that bed instead of in a different spot? After several days of feeling tortured by her captors but also by her own mind, Sapir had a major paradigm shift. She simply said to herself, if this is where I am and I have no choice but to be here, this is where God wants me to be. Now, the question is why? What is my mission.

Sapir described that she was being held with a teenage girl who was struggling and suffering terribly with their condition. From the moment she went from feeling stuck and stranded to being there for a reason, she became determined to help this girl and get her out of there alive. She took the girl under her wing, encouraged her, and took great risks to ensure she had enough food. When they learned they were being taken into the tunnels, the girl panicked. Sapir told her, we are in Gaza and what is Gaza’s biggest attraction? The tunnels. We can’t be here and not see them for ourselves! With humor and positivity, she turned the girl’s attitude from helplessness to hope and from dread to determination. After an “extended stay” of 55 days, Sapir and the young girl were released in the final swap on November 30. Of course, we continue to daven that Sapir’s boyfriend Sasha and all the hostages are released and return home.

The Torah describes, “These are the journeys of Bnei Yisroel” and then goes on to immediately list 42 encampments, 42 stops. Which is it, where they journeys or stops? The Rebbe explained (Likkutei Sichos, vol. 23, pp. 227-8):

This is because these encampments were not seen as ends unto themselves but as way-stations and stepping-stones in the larger journey of the Jewish People to attain their goal of entering the Promised Land. Therefore, the stops themselves are referred to as journeys, because they were part of what brought about the ultimate objective.

The same is true of our journey through life. Pauses, interruptions, and setbacks are an inadvertent part of a person’s sojourn on earth. But when everything a person does is toward the goal of attaining the “Holy Land”—the sanctification of the material world—these, too, become journeys of their own. Ultimately, these unplanned stops are shown to have been the true motors of progression, each a catalyst propelling us further toward the realization of our mission and purpose in life.

Like, NASA, though for an entirely different and more meaningful reason, we should be intentional and conscious with our language and like Sapir, purposeful with our attitude and approach.

A Jew is always where they are meant to be. Wherever you are, the goal must be to focus on and figure out why, what is your mission, and how can you make the most of this “journey.”

Do You Know What to Answer?

This week, a Jew hater with 1.6 million Twitter followers posted an image consisting of a collection of supposed passages from the Talmud that paint Jews as disparaging towards and discriminating against non-Jews, seeing them as inferior, and treating them with a bias and double standard. The image isn’t new but this was likely the biggest audience it had ever been published to. Some of the quotes don’t exist altogether, others are taken out of context, and others are intentionally misrepresented or misquoted. No matter, the post was viewed more than 5.9 million times, liked more than 33,000 times and shared 8,300 times.

I posted the following in response:

Since the Talmud was written it has been misquoted, twisted and used to fuel and justify antisemitism. Those who hosted “disputations” disappeared into oblivion while the Talmud is alive, well and studied more than ever around the world. @DanBilzerian and @RealCandaceO – you don’t scare us. You will long be gone and the Talmud will continue to light up the world.

Putting Judaism on trial goes back to our very beginning. Avraham holds a religious debate with Nimrod. The Talmud records stories of disputations between Jews and Roman tormentors. In the Middle Ages, Jews were forced to defend the Talmud against Christians authorities who accused it of containing blasphemy and anti-Christian sentiments. Some famous incidents include Nicholas Donin, a Jewish apostate, disputing R’ Yechiel of Paris in 1240 that resulted in the burning of 24 wagonloads of hand-written volumes of Talmud (which was memorialized in a Kinnah we recited last week). In 1263, King James I of Spain ordered the Ramban to debate with apostate Pablo Christiani at a disputation in Barcelona. In the 15^th century, R’ Yosef Albo participated in the disputation of Tortosa. In 1757 in Kamenets, Polish Jewry was tasked with defending Judaism and the Talmud against Jacob Frank that included the spurious blood libel charge, the false accusation that Jews baked their matzahs with the blood of murdered Christian babies. The list could—and sadly does—go on and on.

The more things change, the more they stay the same. Who would believe that in 2024, public personalities with large platforms could continue to shamelessly promote blood libels and unfounded accusations about the Talmud to an audience eager to hear it.

The response to my post was predictable, but it was nonetheless jarring. A torrent of antisemitism, including hundreds of hateful comments, were unleashed in my direction. A small sample of some of the ones I can print here:

· “The only lighting up the Talmud should do is when it’s drenched in gasoline and set fire to.”

· “Nicholas Donin was a hero”

· “The Talmud is satanic garbage”

An educator named Rabbi Yisrael M. Eliashiv wrote a detailed thread addressing each of the alleged Talmudic statements, finding and posting original sources, and debunking the lies in the offensive image. He introduced it by saying, “Preface: None of this is new; most of these fake quotes originate from a couple of antisemitic German books that are over a hundred years old and they’ve been debunked over and over in many places. Sadly, most of them are not so accessible so I’ll go over them myself.”

Impressively, the response has been viewed 2.1 million times. While it does set the record straight for those who are willing to read it and be open to the truth, sadly, that number is less than half of the number who read the original, hateful post.

The Jewish people are under attack. We are the target of false accusations and distortions of our Torah, of our country, and of our people. Ignorance is not bliss, it is irresponsible. How can we expect others to defend us if we are unaware and unfamiliar with the facts and truths ourselves? We may well encounter a hateful antisemite, or even someone well-intentioned who came across a post that made them question what we believe, who saw something that makes them ask us about our sacred texts. When the moment arises at the watercooler at work, on the checkout line of the supermarket, or with our seatmate on the plane, will we be ready, armed and informed with the facts? Are our children sufficiently literate on the basics of our people, our history, our Torah, and Israel to stand up and defend if they are ever under attack?

Our rabbis teach (Pirkei Avos 2:14):

רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר אוֹמֵר, הֱוֵי שָׁקוּד לִלְמֹד תּוֹרָה, וְדַע מַה שֶּׁתָּשִׁיב לְאֶפִּיקוֹרוֹס.

Rebbe Elazar said: Be diligent in the study of the Torah and know how to answer an apikores, a heretic.

Commentators wonder, why doesn’t Rebbe Elazar command us tashiv, answer the apikores, the disputer, why is the instruction dah, know what to answer? They answer that the greatest response to our enemies and attackers is not necessarily to engage and debate but to be knowledgeable, literate, informed, passionate and practicing. That is why the Mishna begins by telling us to be diligent in studying Torah. How much? Until you are armed with the knowledge, confidence, and clarity to not be threatened or challenged by the apikores and instead to live a passionate, rich Jewish life.

Just like the antagonists and disputants who came before, Dan Bilzerian, Candace Owens and the raging antisemites of our time will not be effective and will not be remembered, but our sacred Torah and our timeless Talmud will continue to be learned around the world.

If they are looking into the Talmud to discredit it, we must be inspired to look more often and more deeply into our Talmud to be informed, inspired and guided by it.

We must continue to confront and stop antisemites, but the most important response we can offer is to not only never apologize, be ashamed or defensive of our Talmud or tradition, but to channel their hate into a greater love and commitment for our wisdom and our way of life.

They want us to stop learning and living Torah? The response must be to learn it and live it more. They want us to abandon our values? Lean into them, hold on to them stronger, tighter. They want you to hide your yarmulka, tuck in your tzizis? Get a bigger yarmulka, longer tzitzis.

Someone asked me, if I had $100 million to fight antisemitism what would I do? I said I wouldn’t buy ads on television or hire lobbyists in Congress. I would put every penny into reaching out to our Jewish brothers and sisters to stand taller, prouder, to live more Jewishly. I would send a mezuzah for every Jew and every Jewish student on a college campus to hang on their door. I would send candles for every Jew to light Friday night or for Chanukah.

We cannot win if we don’t know what we are fighting for. Become a better, bigger, and more practicing and learned Jew.

A Weird Shidduch and the Message of Tu B’Av

Name calling in politics is nothing new. America has a long history of presidential candidates hurling insults at one another, going all the way back to the 1800 race between Thomas Jefferson and John Adams. And yet, it often feels like we manage to reach new lows.

Just this week one candidate described the other as an “incompetent socialist lunatic” who is “not very smart” and has the “laugh of a crazy person,” while the other side has repeatedly labeled their opponents as, “creepy and yes, just very weird.”

When those who are competing for the presidency on both sides engage in juvenile name calling instead of focusing on differences in policies, it is not only demeaning to the position they seek but it helps launder this behavior for the general population, and makes name-calling permissible, acceptable, and even admirable. Children who call others names are called bullies and it is no less wrong when the same behavior is coming from adults.

When I was growing up, one insult that was considered particularly biting and especially hurtful was calling someone weird. It may not strike a desensitized, 21^st-century reader as overly cruel, but calling someone a “weirdo” or weird isolates them, making them and others believe that they aren’t normal, they are an outlier and outsider and don’t belong.

Labeling someone as weird isn’t just a momentary insult, it can damage socially and financially in real and lasting ways you may not even appreciate in the moment.

Dovid and Elisheva (names changed) are a fantastic couple in our community. They participate in davening, learning, and volunteering in community programs and chesed activities. They are building a beautiful family together, but their wonderful marriage almost didn’t happen.

Elisheva was moving to the West Side of Manhattan and went to meet up with a friend to see a potential apartment. She got to the building early and while waiting in the lobby, noticed a guy who looked, in her words, “frum and normal.” Always on the lookout for her potential bashert, she asked the friend, “What’s the story with the guy who was in the lobby before? “ The friend made a face and said, “Oh, that guy? That guy is totally weird, he is always talking to the doorman.” That comment, that one word “weird,” embedded itself deeply in her mind and created a mental block, a narrative that Dovid was “the weird guy who talks to the doorman,” someone she should never be interested in.

Elisheva moved into the building and, over the course of the next couple of years, crossed paths with Dovid at Shabbos meals, speed dating events and, naturally, the lobby of the building. They made small talk and at times it even felt like they were making a connection, but whenever they interacted, Elisheva still heard the voice of her friend telling her that Dovid is the “weird guy who talks to the doorman,” and she of course had no interest. Who wants to go out with someone weird?

Two years after Elisheva moved in, Dovid was scheduled to move out, to leave the building, and leave New York. On his last Shabbos, he ran into Elisheva and told her that he was leaving. They had a great conversation, and it even felt to him like for the first time, she had let her guard down. So, he thought to himself, why not, why not give this a shot and ask her out directly. When Shabbos ended, he called her. Elisheva thought to herself, you know, he is a nice enough guy, and even if he is weird, he deserves an A for effort. I will go out once just to be nice. It will be a “one and done.”

When they went out, Elisheva discovered that Dovid often talked to the doorman because he lived on the first floor, worked from his apartment, had limited interactions with people, and enjoyed stepping out to connect with someone who was often lonely himself. Dovid wasn’t “weird,” he was actually wonderful. A few months later they were engaged, and the rest is history.

Reflecting on their story, Elisheva says had the friend not dropped that anchor, attached that label of “weird” and planted that mental block, they could have avoided two years of going down the wrong paths, dating the wrong people and “wasting” their time. Recognizing that while everything has a reason and Hashem clearly decided they needed to date for two additional years after first seeing each other, she still says the friend was unkind and unfair using that term “weird” and it could have caused her to pass up her bashert altogether. (To this day, to her credit, Elisheva has yet to tell Dovid who the friend was that had called him weird and had almost kept them apart forever.)

This coming week we observe Tu B’Av. The Mishna characterizes Tu B’Av as the happiest day of the year, a day that the women of Yerushalayim would dress up in white and would draw attention to their interest in finding a husband and building a home.

But why this date? The Gemara in Taanis (30a) identifies several events that happened specifically on the 15^th of Av, including the day young men and women were allowed to intermarry among the different tribes. It was also the day the tribe of Binyamin was welcomed back into Klal Yisroel, the day those who travelled through the desert stopped dying, the day the guards who blocked the roads to Yerushalayim were removed, the day those martyred in Beitar were allowed to be buried.

What emerges from this seemingly disparate list is that Tu B’Av is the holiday of bringing back together that which was apart. Tribes were divided, the Jewish people were alienated from Hashem, and on Tu B’av the pieces of the puzzle that belonged together were put back in place to form the most beautiful and unified picture. Tu B’Av is the chag ha’achdus v’ha’ichud, it is the holiday of unity and oneness, of parts becoming a whole.

We can only go from Tisha B’Av, a day commemorating the tragedies and calamities that come from being divided, to Tu B’Av, a day of unity and togetherness, if we are careful with our labels, words, and the way we describe one another. There is nothing weird about loving every Jew and seeing the best and the positive in them.

The next time you are asked about someone for a shidduch, a business deal or as a reference, be honest and truthful. But, also be thoughtful and judicious in what adjectives and labels you use. What is just a word or phrase for you can be the difference between happiness and prosperity or loneliness and struggle for them.

In a world in which leaders act like children, let’s strive to be the adults in the room.

What If?

When the peace and harmony of Shabbos concluded and we learned the the news of an assassination attempt on a former and current candidate for President, among my many thoughts was the question of, What If?

A series of anthologies titled, “What If? The World’s Foremost Historians Imagine What Might Have Been,” examines turning points in history and what might have been if particular moments had gone differently. One moment that broke differently at Poitiers in 1356, at Gettysburg in 1863, or in Berlin in 1945, could have altered the entire tapestry of modern history.

So, what if? What if President Trump had not turned his head at the last moment and instead of being shot on the tip of his ear, was assassinated as the shooter intended? Would a dangerous and irreparable division have resulted, with violent and grave consequences for the country? Who would have replaced Trump as the Republican presidential nominee and how would the election have been impacted?

Reflecting on his brush with death, Trump said it was “God alone who prevented the unthinkable from happening.” Ultimately, it is likely less than one inch that will leave the world and history wondering, what if?

President Biden called on Americans to “lower the temperature” in politics and said that Americans “must stand together.” President Trump, too, said that the miracle is motivation to pivot to a message of unity. While the assassination attempt was the act of an individual, many are blaming the level of rhetoric and extremist language in politics on both sides. Comparisons to the most evil men in history, descriptions of a threat to democracy, claims that the election is a matter of life or death, create an atmosphere that is not only toxic, but clearly dangerous.

While Trump may be the highest-profile attempted assassination of late, there have been no shortage of shootings and attempts to kill both Republicans and Democrats. Since the United States Congress was established in 1789, fifteen of its members have been killed while in office, and fourteen have suffered serious injuries from attacks. Of those killed, 10 were Democrats, four were Republicans, and one was a Democratic-Republican. Of the four members of Congress physically attacked since 2011, Gabby Giffords (D), Steve Scalise (R), Rand Paul (R), and Angie Craig (D), two are Democrats and two Republicans.

Similar divisiveness, discord and dangerous demagoguery exist in Israel as well. Many blame the 1995 murder of Prime Minister Yitzchak Rabin, the head of the Labor Party, on incitement from his political adversaries and their followers. Others are concerned today with the relentless inflammatory language leveled at current Prime Minister, Bibi Netanyahu, the head of Likud.

Both in Israel and America, each side points a finger at the other, blames the other, and calls on the other side to improve. An honest and objective observer will conclude that the left and right in both countries have contributed to the poisonous and perilous polemics and that neither side adequately calls out their own for what they contribute to the noxious atmosphere, even while calling for unity themselves.

Politicians and political parties profit off the industry of extreme and inflammatory language. Anger and fear generate outrage. Outrage translates to dollars and to votes. But it also leads to division, hate and as we were reminded this week, even to violence.

As a result, our leaders, the very people entrusted to serve our interests and bring us together, simply cannot be counted on to turn down the temperature or bring unity. Ultimately, it is up to each and every one of us to be sensitive to and regulate how we speak, what we say, and the tone we take. We, the people, must recognize our own autonomy and take ownership over how we interact. We can and must model how to disagree agreeably, how to debate and discuss ideas and policies, and not repeat, promote or advance ad hominem attacks against people.

Shlomo HaMelech’s insight in Mishlei (18:21): “Maves v’chaim b’yad ha’lashon,” death and life are determined by the tongue, feels particularly poignant this week.

Soon, we will begin to observe the Three Weeks culminating in Tisha B’Av, the most inauspicious day on our calendar marking the destruction of both Batei Mikdash and the countless calamities and suffering in our history. Our rabbis taught that the cause of our millennia-long galus was sinas chinam, baseless hatred that can be traced all the way back to the dispute between Yosef and his brothers.

The Torah tells us that Yosef’s brothers hated him to the point that v’lo yachlu dabro l’shalom.” The Ibn Ezra explains, “v’lo yachlu dabro l’shalom – afilu l’shalom.” It isn’t that they just couldn’t talk about the issues they disagreed about. It isn’t just that they didn’t want to be close, loving brothers. It isn’t just that they couldn’t debate respectfully. “Afilu l’shalom” – they couldn’t even give each other a shalom aleichem. The hatred and intolerance had grown so deep that they couldn’t stand to even extend greetings to one another or to be in a room together.

Rav Yehonasan Eibshitz in his Tiferes Yonasan has an additional insight. When we disagree with people, we withdraw from them and stop speaking to them. We see them as “the other,” different from us and apart from us. As our communication breaks down, the dividers rise up stronger and stronger and we can’t find a way to break through them.

The antidote and answer is in our hands and we remind ourselves of it three times a day when we pray. Our practice of taking three steps backward at the conclusion of the Amidah comes from a Gemara in Yoma (Daf 53) which states, “Hamispaleil tzarich she’yafsiah shelosha pesios l’achorav v’achar kach yitein shalom. The one who prays must take three steps back and only then pray for peace.” R’ Menachem BenZion Zaks (in his commentary on Pirkei Avos) explains that we cannot pray for, nor achieve, peace if we are not willing to step back a little and make room for others and their opinions, tastes, and personalities. After literally stepping back, we ask, “Oseh shalom bimromav, God, please bring peace,” and we then turn to our right and to our left. Explains R’ Zaks, achieving peace and harmony means bending towards those on the right of us and those on the left of us, acknowledging them, engaging them, and making space for them. That is a prerequisite to the shalom, the peace we crave.

In America and in Israel there are so many issues that deserve legitimate, vociferous debate. From elections to army service, from gun control to abortion, from judicial reform to religious coercion, there are complicated issues with multiple perspectives. They elicit strong emotion and passionate positions, but they cannot and must not sow irreversible division. We cannot allow our differences and strong opinions to make us unable to say hello to one another, or to see someone we disagree with as “the other.” Many of us remember the groundswell of unity, togetherness and patriotism that developed after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, and we remember how it dissipated and disappeared too quickly. For too short a time we remained different politically and on policies but united and proud as a country. We cannot allow the similar feeling of unity and togetherness that followed October 7 to vanish or fade away. We can point a finger at others for how they have returned to rhetoric, or just like when you point an actual finger, we can recognize there are three pointing back at ourselves and take responsibility for our role and contribution to conversations.

As we approach the Three Weeks, don’t just ask and ponder “What if” about the assassination attempt on President Trump. Ask what if we all took responsibility for how we speak, for keeping the focus on policies and issues and not on people, for avoiding language that inflames and incites and instead using language that persuades and influences. What if we didn’t just bow to the right and the left at the end of our Amidah but looked to our right and to our left religiously, politically, and in every other way and brought the great beracha of shalom by bowing to what we have in common, rather than what divides. What if.

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