The Shul With The Worst Decorum In The World

This past Shabbos, I found myself davening at the shul with probably the worst decorum in the world. People were not just talking, but some were screaming, shrieking, and hollering, others were stomping their feet, banging on the tables, hitting the walls, and jumping up and down. There were individuals pacing back and forth, others coming in and out, doors constantly squeaking and slamming shut. It was, by far, the most distracting davening I have ever experienced. It was also, by far, the holiest davening I have ever been privileged to witness.

The Shul at Camp HASC is filled with boys and girls and men and women with special needs, physical and developmental disabilities including autism, Down’s Syndrome, cerebral palsy, and others. Few can participate in davening in the traditional sense; many are not verbal, and most don’t seem cognitively capable. Yet, one cannot help but feel the noises being transmitted from the holy, pure neshamas of HASC’s campers ascend to the highest places of prayer.

To be clear, HASC doesn’t have a staff, they have a roster of malachim, angels who selflessly devote themselves in ways that are superhuman. Because of the level of care and support necessary, each camper has a counselor, a one-to-one ratio. They shower, change, carry, push, cradle, and most of all, smother their campers with love.

At davening, the staff members hold their siddur in one hand and their camper’s hand in the other, or they interrupt their shemoneh esrei to pursue their camper who is on the move. As we belted out a beautiful and leibedig Kabbalas Shabbos, several campers put on talleisim, each thinking they were the chazzan, while younger campers sat on their counselors’ shoulders, those who could danced in circles and others watched from their wheelchairs, often contributing a moan, groan, or shriek.

A visit to HASC is an accelerated advanced degree in Chesed, an invitation to access the biggest Beis Medrash of Ahavas Yisroel in the world. You cannot come out the same way you entered as you leave a witness to Klal Yisroel’s capacity for kindness, for loving a fellow Jew with no judgment or conditions, and you cannot help but be inspired to improve your own.

Over Shabbos I met an autistic, 15-year-old young man named Zev, who is mostly nonspeaking. Until recently, little was known about his thoughts, feelings, and aspirations. After days of diagnostic testing, the “experts” had determined that Zev had the intelligence of an 18-month-old. But in the last few years, Zev and his similar friend and fellow camper Srulik have worked with an extraordinary communication therapist who utilized the latest techniques to teach how to type and communicate non-verbally.

It turns out that while on the outside Zev and Srulik seem developmentally stunted, often unable to understand, they take it all in and is filled with deep thoughts, ideas, and Divrei Torah.

Last month, in honor of his sister’s wedding, Zev’s parents published a booklet of his Torah thoughts that he typed letter by letter. The first entry, Zev’s first Dvar Torah, said the following:

Moshe Rabeinu could not talk perfectly. In spite of this disadvantage, he was our greatest teacher. It seems to me the lesson is clear. It is not the talking that makes a man great, it is the listening and understanding of the messages of Hashem. I think I never had the ability to know my listening was my strength because I looked only at a lonely, quiet life. Now I have hope for my future, the chance to learn Torah, to become a mensch, may you be inscribed in the book of life!

The booklet has entries on several parshiyos, Jewish holidays and concludes with a message Zev typed to be shared with students of a class he joined to study Torah three times a week:

My name is Zev, I am happy to learn here. I have autism and I cannot talk very well, but I think normally. Please do not be concerned If I make noise or organize things. I may not be able to control my impulses. Please talk to me normally and not simplified. I look forward to being in Navi class.

One of the first things Zev shared was: “My brain is smart; my body is dumb.”

As I read this pamphlet and looked at Zev, I simply couldn’t believe it. What was happening on his inside did not match what I could see on the outside. Externally, he was “broken,” disabled, and seemingly a typical special needs individual. On the inside, he was whole, smart, capable, thoughtful, and articulate. The staff member who introduced me to Zev and his Divrei Torah told me this breakthrough not only enormously transformed the way he views Zev, but it has also had a tremendous impact on the way he views all the campers, especially the non-verbal ones.

The bottom line is this: We have no idea what is going on inside a person, what is happening beneath the surface. And then it struck me, this lesson is of course true outside the walls of Camp HASC and it applies in both directions. How many people who seem “whole” on the outside are really broken inside? How many who seem abled on the surface, are in fact disabled emotionally or spiritually beneath it?

The Mishna (Pirkei Avos 2:5) teaches: “Al tadin es chavercha ad shetagia limkomo — don’t judge your fellow until you reach his place.” One can never, ever reach the place of their fellow, we can’t know their experiences, history, unique personality, assets and liabilities, talents and temptations, so how could we judge them? If we are honest, we don’t even have access to reach their place, their innermost world, what is happening inside, so how could we have an opinion or sit in judgment?

I am not saying we shouldn’t hold accountable those who have used their free will to injure, harm, or make choices that impact others negatively. However, Chazal are enjoining us not to assume, judge or disparage simply based on what we see. One would have to “reach his or her place,” something we simply cannot do.

We find ourselves in the three weeks, the period of mourning and grieving for the tragedies of Jewish History, the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash, and for the challenges we continue to face today, including antisemitism and anti-Israel efforts. Our rabbis were not shy in telling us the cause of it all, and the reason redemption has not yet happened: sinas chinam, hatred, animosity, enmity, and judgment of one another. When we focus on our differences, when we see the deficiencies in the other, we sit in judgment, we feel tension.

When entering Camp HASC you must walk past a large banner that sets the tone for everything that happens on that holy campus: “I hereby accept upon myself the positive commandment to love my fellow as myself.” The inspiration for the sign at the opening of camp comes from the Arizal’s suggestion for the opening of our davening. The great Arizal taught that before we can speak to Hashem to pour out our hearts for what we want and need, we must first pledge and promise to love Hashem’s other children, to see what we have in common, not what divides, to give the benefit of the doubt, not sit in judgment, to practice ahavas chinam, unconditional love, not sinas chinam, baseless hate.

A different Mishnah (Avos 1:6) tells us: Hevei dan es kol ha’adam l’chaf zechus, judge each person in a favorable manner. Rav Menachem Benzion Sacks points out that the Mishnah subtly includes a strategy for judging others favorably. Rather than say hevei dan ha’adam l’chaf zechus it says hevei dan es kol ha’adam l’chaf zechus, judge the entire person favorably. The key to drawing positive conclusions is to remember there is, in fact, an entire person, an inside and outside, what you can see and know, and what you will never fully understand.

For those capable of doing more, we should strive for better decorum than the HASC Shul. And if we want to bring Moshiach and end this galus, we must adopt the HASC Shul’s environment of unconditional and non-judgmental love and the HASC’s entry sign that charges us all, knowing that while at HASC some look broken on the outside and they are whole on the inside, there are those in our communities who look whole on the outside but really are struggling with brokenness inside.

The Indignity of Indifference

9-1-1…

When we see those numbers, every one of us thinks the same thing – Emergency Hotline. Our children know from a young age that if there is a problem, dial 9-1-1. But when did this emergency system start? When was it widely adopted and put into practice?

On a cold winter night, March 16, 1964, at around 2:40 in the morning, 28-year-old Kitty Genovese was attacked with a knife, just a block from her apartment, and died in her stairwell. The New York Times coverage of her murder stated that police records showed 38 people admitted to hearing her cries for help, but not a single witness called to report the incident. Dozens of books have been written about her death and the lack of empathy and action taken by those around her. (Fifty years later, a new documentary called “The Witness”, dove into the entire tragic story and reveals that the Times grossly exaggerated that number.

There weren’t 38 eyewitnesses to the murder, which began with an attack outside and then continued in the apartment lobby. Only a handful of people probably saw Winston Moseley, who died in prison a few years ago, attack Kitty. At least two neighbors claim to have called the police, although police logs have no record of those calls. One neighbor, Sophia Farrar, did in fact run to help Kitty and hold her as she died.

Whatever the exact number, the bottom line is that people did hear her being attacked and did nothing. Her tragic death led to several positive things, most notably, the adoption of the 9-1-1 emergency call system. It also led to social scientists studying indifference and what leads to people being passive and apathetic to that which is happening around them.

The dangers of indifference didn’t start with the Kitty Genovese story; it goes as far back as the Torah. A prince of Israel and a princess of Midian acted shamelessly in public together in a terrible affront to the Almighty. The gross indiscretion was the act of two individuals. True, there were others who participated in the licentiousness and responded to the seduction of the Midianite women, but it wasn’t everyone. And yet, when Hashem acknowledges Pinchas, it is for turning back His wrath against all of Bnei Yisroel and saving them from collective suffering as if they are all guilty. What did they all do wrong, wasn’t it only the actions of a few?

And what is the reward for Pinchas? The Noble Peace Prize. Rewarding Pinchas for his intervention and act of heroism is understandable, but is the peace prize really the best reward for someone who brutally drove a spear through two people and violently ended their lives? Is bris shalom really the most befitting award?

The most difficult thing to understand in the story is the reason given for Pinchas’s reward altogether. He is not acknowledged for the Kiddush Hashem he made publicly, but rather because “heishiv es chamasi”, because he turned back Hashem’s anger at the Jewish people. Didn’t Pinchas deserve a reward for his behavior, even if the people continued to be punished for theirs? Why are the two intertwined?

I would like to suggest that the villains in the Pinchas story are not in fact Kozbi and Zimri, but the villain is indifference. Those two acted out in public and nobody challenged them on it. The nation watched, perhaps stunned, but also silent, and nobody protested or objected. When telling the story, the Torah emphasizes that it took place “l’einei kol Yisroel”, in front of everyone.

The Jewish people are collectively punished, not for the act of one or even a few, but because of their own failure to act. They watched and observed and didn’t object. They tolerated the intolerable and created an atmosphere of indifference, in which evil could thrive.

Pinchas’s act of zealotry when focused on Kozbi and Zimri, the two recipients of his spear, looks violent and even heinous. However, from the perspective of a crowd of passive onlookers, unable or unwilling to act, Pinchas’s stepping in was a brave act of heroism and an effort to restore peace. He is awarded with the bris shalom, the peace prize, because sometimes the path to peace is not through indifference and looking away, it is only with brave initiative and the bold willingness to be intolerant of the intolerable.

Pinchas is rewarded for relieving the people of their punishment and not for the Kiddush Hashem of stopping Kozbi and Zimri, because the core of the story is not the act of the two, but the inaction of the many.

The great Nobel laureate and Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel taught:

Of course, indifference can be tempting — more than that, seductive. It is so much easier to look away from victims. It is so much easier to avoid such rude interruptions to our work, our dreams, our hopes. It is, after all, awkward, troublesome, to be involved in another person’s pain and despair. Yet, for the person who is indifferent, his or her neighbor are of no consequence. And, therefore, their lives are meaningless. Their hidden or even visible anguish is of no interest. Indifference reduces the other to an abstraction. In a way, to be indifferent to that suffering is what makes the human being inhuman. Indifference, after all, is more dangerous than anger and hatred. (April 12, 1999 speech at The White House as part of the Millennium Lecture Series)

Elie Wiesel witnessed and experienced the worst of what indifference allows and enables. Baruch Hashem, we don’t have those horrific challenges. But we too continue to suffer from indifference.

In the digital age, we are constantly exposed to messages that teach apathy, not empathy. For too many, social media is a vehicle to spew hatred, gossip, dishonesty and bullying. Of course the perpetrators are the most accountable, but so are the masses who see it and don’t say anything. They neither object nor come to the defense of those being attacked or treated unfairly.

When there is talking in shul, it is only because the talkers are confident the indifferent environment around them will tolerate the talking. When people share gossip, it is only because they are certain the indifferent listener won’t object or stop them. When people bully others to conform to what they want, they get away with it because most prefer indifference to getting involved.

These three weeks are a time for collective and individual reflection on how we can dispel the sinas chinam and show greater love to one another. Ahavas yisroel means hearing the call of those around us and anticipating the needs of those suffering in silence. It means sensitively and respectively creating an atmosphere which shuts down conversations of gossip and stepping in when people are being bullied online or offline.

The women of Midian were seductive, but as Elie Wiesel said, even more seductive is indifference. We must never give in to her temptation. Only by being intolerant of the intolerable are we worthy of the bris shalom, the gift of true and authentic peace.

Disinheriting Disappointing Children

It is possible at some point in your life you might have wondered who would come to your funeral and how many people would show up. A Belgian man took his curiosity to find out the answers to these questions to a new, and frankly disturbing, level. David Baerten, a 45-year-old Belgian man, faked his own death and showed up to his funeral by stepping off a helicopter instead of being carried out of a hearse. Along with his wife and children, he orchestrated the prank to see “who actually cared about him.”

To spread the news of Baerten’s “death” one of his children took to social media and wrote a tribute to her father. “Rest in peace, Daddy. I will never stop thinking about you…I love you! We love you! We will never forget you.”

The fake funeral was attended by dozens of friends and family members dressed in black, waiting for the ceremony to begin until they were met with a landing helicopter. The “dead man” hopped out of the chopper as he greeted his mourners with “Cheers to you all, welcome to my funeral.” Several of those attending were less than pleased with Baerten’s stunt.

He explained, “What I see in my family often hurts me, I never get invited to anything. Nobody sees me. We all grew apart. I felt unappreciated. That’s why I wanted to give them a life lesson and show them that you shouldn’t wait until someone is dead to meet up with them.”

Baerten’s stunt was unkind to those who care about him and it should never be repeated. It was outrageous, but the drive to know what others will say about us after we are gone, and the anxiety over the decisions our progeny will make in our absence and whether their lives and lifestyles will reflect our core values and beliefs, is certainly real.

There is good reason to be concerned. Rabbi Rick Jacobs, president of the Union for Reform Judaism, has said repeatedly, “Interfaith families are now the majority of the movement.” That isn’t surprising considering that the intermarriage rate among non-Orthodox is alarmingly north of 70 percent.

But intermarriage is not only a Reform, Conservative, or unaffiliated problem. Every Orthodox rabbi will tell you they are having more meetings than ever with parents who worked and sacrificed significantly to provide their children with a Jewish education and raise them in an observant home, only to be told they have fallen in love with a non-Jew and plan to marry them. One shudders to think that these incidents will increase as the world around us gets increasingly both open, inviting and welcoming on one hand, while also getting more complicated and confusing on the other.

How do we respond? What can we do to ensure the outcome we desperately dream of? Certainly, we should—and must—teach, educate, inspire, motivate, and model the choices we want to see our children and grandchildren make. What about using our finances to incentivize?

The New York Times Magazine publishes a weekly column called “The Ethicist,” which it says is designed to provide “advice on life’s trickiest situations and moral dilemmas.” A recent column addressed the following question:

Around a decade ago, my mom informed each of her children that she and my stepfather put a codicil in their wills disinheriting any of their children married to someone not recognized as Jewish by her local Orthodox Rabbinate.

I believe a will is not just about money; it’s also an expression of values and love. I have strongly objected to this codicil, or more specifically, to her having informed us about it: The two are thereby using their wealth as an implicit weapon in service of their religious views.

She says I’m reading too much into it. She claims she informed us in the name of “transparency,” so we wouldn’t be surprised later, and that it’s her money to do with as she pleases, anyway — though she concedes that she also informed us in case it may influence decisions we make.

I’ve since married someone who fits her definition of a Jew, so the codicil doesn’t apply to me. Still, I have three middle-aged siblings who are all not religious and unmarried, and I think they remain so at least partially because they’re stuck, unable to both follow their hearts and avoid betraying my mother’s love — and its most powerful signifier, her will. Is she right to have the codicil? And to have told us about it?

The columnist answered:

The real question is whether the scheme is wise or decent. I fear that it is neither. That your siblings now have an incentive to postpone marriage until your parents are dead raises doubts about its wisdom. That your siblings might marry someone acceptable to the Orthodox rabbinate in order to secure this inheritance raises doubts about its decency. Whom we marry is properly up to us. Parents may express their views; coercion, though, is wrong. Does threatening to deprive someone of a substantial inheritance amount to coercion? Different understandings of coercion will come out differently on this. But it’s too close for comfort.

Hypocritically, a year earlier the same columnist responded to a question from a self-described liberal, progressive woman whose children had become ultra conservative, refused the Covid vaccine, and questioned the results of the election. She asked if it was appropriate to consider leaving them out of her will. The same Ethicist concluded it is not only reasonable, it would be irresponsible to let them inherit as they could use the resources to advance dangerous agendas.

Baruch Hashem, we don’t rely on the New York Times to dictate our ethics. Hashem, His Torah, and His representatives in each generation are our “Ethicists.” So what do they say?

The Mishna in Bava Basra (8:5) states that if one gives his assets to others and leaves nothing for his sons to inherit, what he has done is Halachically legitimate but, he has violated the spirit of the law and so the ruach Chachamim, the “spirit of the sages,” is not pleased by him. However, Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel says that if one’s children were not acting properly, and as a result he transferred all of his assets to others, he should in fact be remembered for the good.

The Gemara (Bava Basra 133b) concludes that the Halacha follows the first opinion, which is codified by the Shulchan Aruch (Choshen Mishpat 282). Rav Moshe Feinstein (Igros Moshe C.M. 2:50) says that the Gemara was discussing a disrespectful son and concluded such a son shouldn’t be cut out of the will. However, says Rav Moshe, if a son has completely abandoned a Torah lifestyle, he may be disinherited.

Some suggest that when Rav Moshe penned that responsum in 1965, it was unlikely that a child who had abandoned Torah would return or would have descendants who were observant. Today, by comparison, there is a teshuva movement, people’s stories are not fully written, we have no idea who may convert, who might return to observance, who might have children and grandchildren that will make us most proud. Disinheriting, some argue, may in fact not influence the decision to intermarry but will make a journey towards conversion or observance less likely. They therefore suggest, in an effort to preserve peace and harmony in the family, to always divide the estate equally (employing halachic guidance).

Others suggest that in case of concern where the money will go, how it will be used, and whether it will advance values, choices, and efforts inconsistent with our wishes, the estate be left in trusts that support choices we encourage such as to pay for Jewish education, Jewish camps, trips to Israel, etc.

These issues are complicated and difficult and there isn’t one clear or correct answer. Our ethicists have much to say but ultimately it is our hard-earned money and we are responsible to be thoughtful, strategic, and even prescient in how it is left and where it is going.

Most importantly, don’t wait to rely on finances being the factor that will trigger the choices we want. Use resources while you are here to provide, support, enable, reward, and empower a passionate, vibrant, dynamic Yiddishkeit that our descendants will want to cling to and carry on.

Should You Care About What Others Think of You?

“What other people think about me is none of my business.”

While empowering and comforting, is this quote from Eleanor Roosevelt true? Should we care what people think and say about us? Should other people’s opinions about us take up space in our head and heart? Should we be listening and paying attention or is it indeed none of our business?

When negotiating with the tribes who wanted to settle east of the Jordan River, Moshe tells them once the land of Israel is fully conquered, then (Bamidbar 32:22) “Vihyisem nekiyim mei-Hashem u-miYisrael,” “And you shall be clean before God and Israel.”

Based on this, the Mishna (Shekalim 3:2) obligates us to not only avoid doing a wrong thing, but to avoid even the perception that one has done a violation. We must remain innocent in the eyes not just of God, but of our fellow man as well. Indeed, the Chassam Sofer (Teshuvos 6:59) writes that he has been troubled his entire life by this obligation and responsibility. It is one thing to be clean in Hashem’s eyes, since He knows the truth of what we have done. By contrast, the expectation that we can conduct our lives in such a fashion that no person can cast a doubt, or a criticism seems almost impossible.

We have a parallel rabbinic law called maris ayin, a prohibition against doing something that can be misinterpreted as a violation of Jewish law. You have likely heard this term invoked when discussing the permissibility of going into a non-kosher restaurant to order a kosher drink or use the restroom.

Rav Moshe Feinstein (Igros Moshe o.c. 2:40, 4:82) explains that the concern of maris ayin is that someone will misinterpret that something wrong is in fact ok and will come to violate a law themselves. The similar concept of chashad, on the other hand, is behaving in a way that will cause others to be suspicious of your wrongdoing, even if it will not impact their own behavior.

The common denominator of both prohibitions is that in both cases, I must be concerned with what others think about me and regulate my behavior accordingly. Or maybe not.

The Mishkan, the central place of holiness and Shechina had a kiyor, a laver that the Kohanim used to wash their hands and feet in preparation for the avodah, the service in the Mishkan. Though Moshe rejected this gift, disturbed that instruments of vanity would be used in the holy Mishkan, Hashem told him that these were, in fact, the holiest gifts and they must be accepted.

Perhaps as the Kohanim prepared to do their service, they needed to look into these mirrors, evaluate their lives, their decisions and their behavior, and consider how they were perceived by those around them. Only when they could successfully look at themselves in the mirror and be satisfied could they continue to do the avodah, to serve in the holy Mishkan.

Yes, we must consider the impact of our behavior on others, how it will be perceived, what others might learn from it, and what type of impression or misimpression we might be giving. Maris Ayin is something we must be cognizant of. At the same time, if we can look at ourselves in the mirror and genuinely be satisfied, if we believe we are acting appropriately in the eyes of Hashem and those we love and respect, I believe we need not look back and think about how others are reacting; rather, we should remember what other people think about me is none of my business.

When people, particular strangers make nasty comments online and offline, it says much more about them than it does about us. Yes, we should consider if the message has merit, even (maybe especially) when we don’t like the messenger or the way they crafted their message. But if the message is unfair, if we can look at ourselves in the mirror and honestly be satisfied with what we see, we cannot and must not absorb the negativity cast our way.

When I was growing up in Teaneck, we had a barber named Chubby. On his mirror was a sign that said, “He who trims himself to suit everyone will soon whittle himself away.” We simply cannot make everyone happy all the time, nor should we try. We must be clean in the eyes of Hashem and do our best to behave in way that is beyond reproach to others. But once we do, not only should we not take too seriously what others are saying about us, we shouldn’t even listen.

A rabbinic colleague shared with me how his assistant was starting to tell him what others were saying about him. He cut her off and asked, is it important to know, do you think I did something wrong? When she said no, he said, “In that case, I would rather not know, please don’t tell me.” She was flabbergasted and in disbelief that he had the discipline to not want or need to know what was being said. If what other people think about me is none of my business, why would I even want to know?

At the end of our Amidah, we ask Hashem: v’limkalelai nafshi sidom, may my soul be silent to those who curse me. It is understandable that we ask for the courage and strength that our lips remain silent, but what does it mean to ask for our soul to do the same?

Perhaps we are not concerned we will react or respond harshly, but we are concerned that the curse or criticism of another person might torment and torture our soul. And so we ask, let my soul remain silent, not become frazzled or frustrated by what others are saying about me.

We must do our best and when we are convinced we have done so, we must work on not caring too much about what people say. If all else fails, remember this truism (origin unknown): “When you’re 20 you care what everyone thinks, when you’re 40 you stop caring what everyone thinks, when you’re 60 you realize no one was ever thinking about you in the first place.”

Everything is Amazing and Nobody’s Happy

If your antenna is extended and you are paying attention, powerful and inspirational messages and reminders are being broadcast to us regularly. I was recently flying to New York when the woman sitting next to me grew increasingly frustrated that her television screen wasn’t working. She was forcefully pushing every button and practically slapping the screen trying to revive it.

The woman stopped a flight attendant walking by throwing her arms in the air, and with great exasperation announced, “Nothing is working!” The flight attendant stopped, looked at her, took a deep breath and said, “Nothing is working?! Ma’am, we are 33,000 feet in the air, flying in a metal box with wings that will get us to our destination in just a couple of hours. The plane is working just fine and isn’t that the main thing?” With that, she turned to continue the beverage and snack service but her words kept ringing in my ears.

Sure, it would be nice if the entertainment system was working. Certainly, it would enhance the trip if the Wi-Fi was functioning properly. But even when they aren’t, as long as the plane is working, that is the main thing, and we should never lose that perspective.

Several years ago, a I read the following observation of a comedian:

Everything is amazing right now, and nobody’s happy. We live in an amazing, amazing world, and it’s wasted on a generation of spoiled people that don’t care. This is what people are like now: they’ve got their phones and they’re like “Ugh, it won’t…” GIVE IT A SECOND! It’s going to SPACE! Can you give it a second to get back from space?? Is the speed of light too slow for you?!

I was on an airplane and there was high speed internet. That’s the newest thing I know that exists. And I’m sitting there and they go “Open up your laptops you can go on the internet,’ and it’s fast, and I’m watching YouTube clips, I’m in an airplane! And then it breaks down, and they apologize that the internet’s not working, and the guy next to me goes “Ugh, this is ridiculous.” Like how quickly the world owes him something he knew existed only like 10 seconds ago!

Flying is the worst one because people come back from flights and they’re telling you their story, and it’s like a horror story. They act like their flight was a cattle car in the 40s in Germany. They’re like, “It was the worst day of my life! First of all, we didn’t board for like 20 minutes and then they made us sit there on the runway for 40 minutes! We had to sit there!” Oh really? What happened next? Did you FLY in the AIR incredibly like a BIRD? Did you partake in the miracle of human flight?! … You’re sitting in a chair in the SKY! People say there’s delays. Delays? Really? New York to California in 5 hours. That used to take 30 years!

We are living in incredibly blessed times. We have comforts, conveniences, amenities, luxuries that our ancestors couldn’t dream of. Living with indoor plumbing, electricity, cars, planes, smartphones, FaceTime, Waze… each new thing is a game changer that transforms the quality of our lives in ways we don’t fully appreciate. With the advancements of medicine, we have not only longevity, but do you realize how routinely we recover from illness and survive some circumstances that previously would threaten life? Consider that in the 1600’s the lifetime risk of dying in childbirth was 4 percent. For every 100 births, 4 young women would die in the process. While bearing a child still carries risks, it is far, far safer than it was even just a hundred years ago.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not minimizing the pain of childbirth or the challenge of aching knees or hips, or even the frustration of slow Wi-Fi. However, as Stephen Covey writes in his 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, “The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing,” and the main thing is that the airplane is working, our heart is beating, a healthy child was born, and a mother survived. We certainly shouldn’t deny our feelings when something hurts or when we are injured physically, emotionally, or spiritually. We can lean into the pain, cry and even complain for a bit. But we must never lose perspective or context or allow our entire outlook and experience to be clouded or defined by what is missing, hurting, or frustrating, especially when the “main thing” is still working.

The gematria of the word modim, gratitude, is 100. The Kol Bo (Siman 122) writes that this is an indication of our obligation to give thanks at least one hundred times every day. Beginning with the gift of waking up in the morning, with each food and drink we can enjoy and ingest and with every successful trip to the bathroom, each day we stop ourselves one hundred times to say a beracha, to say thank you Hashem that with whatever else is going on, the main things are still working.

Towards the end of the Amidah, after listing all our requests, needs and supplications, we say Modim, Thank you Hashem. In the responsive Modim we recite during the repetition, we say modim anachnu lach, we are grateful to you…al she’anachnu modim lach, that we feel gratitude to you.

Among the things we must not take for granted and for which we should be grateful, is knowing the main thing is the main thing and being grateful when the main thing is working.

Who is the Donor and Who is the Recipient?

In a mind-boggling statistic, Orthodox Jews represent 0.2% of the US population and yet make up almost 20% of altruistic kidney donors. This past Shabbos, our community hosted an incredible partnership weekend with Renewal that included a panel discussion with members of our community who have donated their kidneys and one member whose life was saved by receiving a kidney. At the energized concert with Eitan Katz on Motzei Shabbos, one of our members met his donors parents for the first time. The parents used the public setting to express endless gratitude for his having saved their daughter’s life.

Listening to the donors describe what giving a kidney meant to them and speaking with our member who had now connected with the family of the girl who carries a piece of him in her, it became clear that while the kidney donors heroically answered the call to give, they had received even more than they gave.

When Rus courageously and selflessly follows her mother-in-law Naomi, they are destitute and impoverished. Rus finds a generous benefactor who invites her to glean from his field and brings the food back to Naomi to share with her. Naomi inquires about the identity of the benefactor and Rus offers a peculiar answer:

וַתֹּ֩אמֶר֩ לָ֨הּ חֲמוֹתָ֜הּ אֵיפֹ֨ה לִקַּ֤טְתְּ הַיּוֹם֙ וְאָ֣נָה עָשִׂ֔ית יְהִ֥י מַכִּירֵ֖ךְ בָּר֑וּךְ וַתַּגֵּ֣ד לַחֲמוֹתָ֗הּ אֵ֤ת אֲשֶׁר־עָֽשְׂתָה֙ עִמּ֔וֹ וַתֹּ֗אמֶר שֵׁ֤ם הָאִישׁ֙ אֲשֶׁ֨ר עָשִׂ֧יתִי עִמּ֛וֹ הַיּ֖וֹם בֹּֽעַז׃

Her mother-in-law asked her, “Where did you glean today? Where did you work? Blessed be he who took such generous notice of you!” So she told her mother-in-law whom she had worked with, saying, “The name of the man that I gave to today is Boaz.”

Shouldn’t it say the man who did something for me, who gave to me, not the man I did something for, gave to? After all, Boaz was the donor and Rus the recipient of his generosity, why did she formulate it in the reverse?

The Midrash explains:

תָּנֵי בְּשֵׁם רַבִּי יְהוֹשֻׁעַ, יוֹתֵר מִמַּה שֶּׁבַּעַל הַבַּיִת עוֹשֶׂה עִם הֶעָנִי, הֶעָנִי עוֹשֶׂה עִם בַּעַל הַבַּיִת, שֶׁכֵּן אָמְרָה רוּת לְנָעֳמִי שֵׁם הָאִישׁ אֲשֶׁר עָשִׂיתִי עִמּוֹ הַיּוֹם, וְלֹא אָמְרָה אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה עִמִּי, אֶלָּא אֲשֶׁר עָשִׂיתִי עִמּוֹ, הַרְבֵּה פְּעוּלוֹת וְהַרְבֵּה טוֹבוֹת עָשִׂיתִי עִמּוֹ בִּשְׁבִיל שֶׁהֶאֱכִילַנִי פְּרוּסָה אַחַת.

The poor person does more for the rich person than the rich person does for the poor person. We derive this from Rus’s statement to Naomi, “the name of the man with whom I dealt today [is Boaz].” Rus did not say “the name of the man who did something for me, but rather, “I did for him”, [as if to say] “I did so much for him, did so much good for him, all for a single piece of bread” (Rus Rabbah 5:9).

We often mistakenly think that the person in position to give resources or time or energy is the blessed donor, generous, selfless in sharing what they have with those less fortunate or blessed. And we often assume the recipient is the nebuch, the one in need, dependent, and taking from others. The Torah tells us to reject those assumptions. The person in a position to share gains more than they give when they turn outward and care about others, when they find purpose for their possessions and meaning, and a mission for their talents. The recipient may need a particular kindness, but by graciously agreeing to receive and to accept help, they empower, enrich, and enable the other become who they are supposed to be and live the life they are meant to live.

Rus introduced us to a new perspective on chesed, demonstrating that it isn’t one directional, there isn’t a clearly defined generous donor, a giver on one side, and a nebuch recipient, a taker on the other. Rather, chesed goes in two directions, each one gives and each one receives, together they gain when they graciously coordinate to provide what the other is lacking: one tangible and the other something even more valuable.

The Rama quotes the Avudraham who tells us that we have the custom to read the Megillah of Rus on Shavuos. The Midrash notes that there are no new laws in the Megillah but we learn from it the reward for genuine chesed, the foundation upon which the whole world rests and the prerequisite to the Torah.

On Nov. 6, 2019, Matt and Andrea Campell noticed that their one-year-old son Brooks’ eyes and skin looked yellow, a sign of jaundice. The next day they took him to their pediatrician, which led to a trip to the emergency room at nearby Akron Children’s Hospital. A day later, Brooks was being transported by ambulance to Cleveland Clinic Children’s, where he was diagnosed with acute liver failure.

Dr. Koji Hashimoto, the Cleveland Clinic director of living donor transplantation, made it clear to the Campbells that they had a few days to find little Brooks a match. Matt was hoping to be the donor, but after six hours of testing, doctors determined he had a blood clotting disorder that disqualified him. The rest of his family was also ruled out because they had the same disorder.

Andrea was 15 weeks pregnant at the time, so she also could not be a donor. Her brother Grant had flown in and was in the room when they found out nobody so far had been a match or was eligible to donate their liver. Grant volunteered on the spot. By the next day, he was cleared and Brooks was being prepped for surgery. Less than a week after the diagnosis was discovered, Grant underwent a six-hour surgery and Brooks underwent a 13-hour transplant surgery, led by Hashimoto, that was successful.

Brooks is now a rambunctious 4-year-old whose liver is continually monitored by doctors. He is also now a big brother to James, who was in the womb when Brooks was fighting for his life. At first glance, this is a marvelous and heartwarming story of a generous donor and grateful recipient, an uncle and nephew with matching scars and a special bond.

However, upon closer examination, it is much less clear who is the donor and who is the recipient. Grant did the most selfless thing for his nephew when he underwent surgery and gave a piece of his liver to save his nephew’s life. But here is the most amazing part of the story. When he had first heard of the dire circumstances and immediately came to be with his sister and her family, he was in the midst of a very turbulent time in his life. He had recently moved away from his family to Texas, ended a relationship, and had a new business fail, all of which had led to severe depression.

He had gone into isolation and the very day he learned about his nephew’s health crisis, he had been thinking about taking his own life. However, when his nephew needed him, he found his purpose, his will to live, because he had done something selfless for someone. He saved a life and that gave him his life back. Grant’s selfless act helped him as much as his nephew.

If you look at the story on the surface, Grant is the hero, the donor who saved his nephew. But if you look a little closer you will see that Grant was the recipient; his nephew had saved his life.

On Sunday morning, across the community, Renewal set up swabbing stations to help find more kidney donor matches and save more lives. A woman in the community I have long admired for her generous and giving spirit shared with me that she was moved by the Shabbos presentations and had gotten swabbed. She commented to me, “I just know I am not going to get called, I never win anything and I am never chosen for things like this.” I was stunned that here she was the prospective “donor” and yet she was thinking of the opportunity to give as “winning” the lottery or raffle, hitting the jackpot.

The story is told of a Holocaust survivor in Crown Heights named Yankel. He related: “You know why it is that I’m alive today? I was a kid, just a teenager at the time. We were on the train, in a boxcar, being taken to Auschwitz. Night came and it was freezing, deathly cold, in that boxcar. The Germans would leave the cars on the side of the tracks overnight, sometimes for days on end without any food, and of course, no blankets to keep us warm.

“Sitting next to me was an older Jew – this beloved elderly Jew – from my hometown I recognized, but I had never seen him like this. He was shivering from head to toe and looked terrible. So I wrapped my arms around him and began rubbing him, to warm him up. I rubbed his arms, his legs, his face, his neck. I begged him to hang on. All night long I kept the man warm this way. I was tired, I was freezing cold myself, my fingers were numb, but I didn’t stop rubbing the heat on to this man’s body. Hours and hours went by this way.

Finally, night passed, morning came, and the sun began to shine. There was some warmth in the cabin, and then I looked around the car to see some of the other Jews in the car. To my horror, all I could see were frozen bodies, and all I could hear was a deathly silence. Nobody else in that cabin made it through the night, they died from the frost.

Only two people survived: the old man and me. The old man survived because somebody kept him warm. I survived because I was warming somebody else.

There are no shortage of opportunities to warm others from inviting and hosting, cooking meals, checking in on others, contributing to causes and volunteering time. When you give of yourself or your resources you will realize that when you warm others you are warming yourself and that while you think you are the donor, you may just be the recipient who has won the lottery.

Platforming, Echo Chambers and Silos: The Debate Over CNN’s Town Hall

Last week, CNN hosted a prime-time town hall featuring former President Donald Trump. The conversation lasted seventy minutes and garnered very strong reactions from both supporters and critics alike.

One critic of CNN wrote, “Platforming Trump was irresponsible given the lies he was always likely to spew at the town hall.” A supporter shared, “CNN performed a valuable journalistic service this week by hosting a spirited town hall with Donald Trump. Like it or not, Mr. Trump is one of the two people who are most likely to win the presidency next year.”

Anderson Cooper defended his network, saying, “The man you were so disturbed to see last night, that man is the front-runner for the Republican nomination for president. You have every right to be outraged today, angry and never watch this network again, but do you think staying in your silo and only listening to people you agree with is going to make that person go away?”

Whatever you think of Trump and the moderator, this debate about the town hall raises an important question, not only about CNN, but about each one of us. Are we stuck in our silos and echo chambers, only exposing ourselves to those we agree with and only platforming people who match our mentality and perspective? If, on the other hand, we do allow ourselves to listen and learn from diverse sources, where do we draw the line? What behaviors and beliefs are so out of bounds that we must not provide a platform or pay attention?

New research from UC Berkeley shows a startling number of Americans exist in “partisan echo chambers,” where they only consume news that reinforces their existing political and social biases. David E. Broockman, one of the study’s authors, describes the concept of selective exposure and suggests that many people choose to isolate themselves in a bubble because that constantly reinforces their views, in effect providing a defense against a complex, unstable world.

Clearly there are people and ideas that are out of bounds, beyond the line. While we may disagree on where to draw that line and whom to exclude, we can likely agree that there is a large, beautiful, Jewish and Torah world made up of people and perspectives that differ from our own but are certainly legitimate. The question is, how often do we read, listen to, or engage those with whom we may not agree or agree entirely? Do we listen to opinions or conclusions we don’t fully identify with but that can help broaden our thinking and ultimately solidify our own?

This week, I spoke to seniors at a local high school about Jewish communal life and leadership and finding your mission in this world. Almost all of them are going to seminary next year in Israel and I challenged them: Each of you will likely have somewhere comfortable and convenient to go for Shabbos: maybe a sibling, or aunt or uncle or grandparents or close family friend. They will have American-style beds and a shower, delicious and plentiful food, and a Shabbos table that feels familiar. Go to them, enjoy, spend time with family. But don’t go there exclusively and don’t even go there mostly. Use your year or years in Israel to explore the beautiful tapestry of Klal Yisroel. Spend Shabbos in Geulah and the Gush, in Ramat Eshkol and Ranana, in Bnei Brak and the Carlebach Moshav. Meet Jews who dress differently, think differently, and serve Hashem differently. See the splendor and richness of Hashem’s children, decide what you will embrace and incorporate from each and identify what doesn’t speak to you and why.

I told them that no matter what seminary you attend, you will have rebbeim and teachers who will speak right to your neshama, who will inspire you, and what they say and how they live will resonate deeply. But you will inevitably also be exposed to someone who will say something that rubs you the wrong way, that upsets you or turns you off, that doesn’t sit well with you, or won’t be consistent with how you were raised or how you want to raise your family. Don’t be upset, don’t conclude you are in the wrong seminary or you are in the wrong class. Ask yourself, why are you upset, what is the core of your frustration? How can understanding what you disagree with help you understand more about you and what you believe in?

The truth is, the message I shared with these young students is relevant to all of us. Not only can we travel to different communities and expose ourselves to different experiences and ideas, but thanks to technology we can journey without going anywhere at all. Whether in Hashkafa or l’havdil politics, don’t only listen and read people you agree with and who feel safe and secure. Challenge yourself to expand your mind, your thinking and your perspective.

Someone I admire greatly, a big Talmid Chacham who is a broad thinker, once put it to me this way. We each have a home address and place we live most comfortably. But isn’t our life enhanced if we have a passport and travel, if we explore and see the bigger world. We likely want to go back home, but perhaps we bring a souvenir or a tradition back with us. We need spiritual passports. While we should have a spiritual home address that anchors us, we should want to get our spiritual passport stamped by visiting other destinations.

Of course, we need more intense “selective exposure” when it comes to ideas, images and ideals that are foreign or hostile to our timeless Torah but perhaps we could all benefit from more exposure to the range of beauty in the Torah world.

Our practice of taking three steps backward at the conclusion of the Amidah comes from a Gemara in Yoma (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, their tastes and personalities. After stepping back, we ask “Oseh shalom bimromav, God, who creates peace, please bring peace,” and we then turn to the right and to the left. Explains R’ Zaks, achieving peace and harmony means bowing towards those on the right of us and those on the left of us, not just straight ahead on our path.

Maintaining the capacity and the will to bow, recognize, listen to and learn from those on the right and left of us religiously and politically is the key to the greater peace with others that we desperately yearn for. But it may also be the key for peace of mind and peace within ourselves as well.

Bud Light, Hobby Lobby, Angel Bakery and You: Representing the Brand

If you are boycotting a product, company or service because you are angry, frustrated, disappointed, or committed to your principles, you are far from alone. According to a recent survey, a quarter of Americans are boycotting a product or company they had spent money on in the past. Some are taking a political position, others a stance on social issues, and the result is more and more people are expressing themselves through their wallets.

Last month, Bud Light learned this directly. They launched a sponsorship partnership with actor and TikTok influencer Dylan Mulvaney, a transgender activist, which provoked strong backlash against Anheuser-Busch, the parent company of Budweiser and maker of Bud Light. Bud Light sales plummeted with calls for boycotts until the company ultimately pulled the campaign and put their Vice President of Marketing on leave of absence.

Founded in 1970, Hobby Lobby is the largest privately owned arts-and-crafts retailer in the world, with over 43,000 employees operating in 48 states. It was started by David and Barbara Green, devout Evangelicals who list as the first of the company’s core values: “Honoring the Lord in all we do by operating in a manner consistent with Biblical principles.”

Hobby Lobby has been at the center of several national controversies as a result of taking strong positions on (and in some cases litigating) issues from contraceptives, LGBT, publicly endorsing Trump, and taking out an ad calling for a Christian-run government. In recent years, Hobby Lobby has confronted countless calls for boycotts.

The boycott movement has made its way to Israel. Among my earliest memories of visiting Israel is eating a delicious rugelach from Angel’s Bakery. The iconic bakery, Israel’s largest, produces 275,000 loaves of bread and 275,000 rolls daily and controls 30 percent of Israel’s bread market. Founded in 1927 in Mandatory Palestine by Salomon Angel, Angel’s Bakery today exports to the United States, United Kingdom, France, Belgium, and Denmark.

Last week, outside supermarkets in major cities in Israel, boxes of Angel’s products remained untouched, and a growing number of high-volume customers, particularly large Yeshivas, were cancelling orders. A huge order for Meron for about 50 million NIS was reportedly canceled.

What happened? Was an Angel’s product found to be contaminated? Was there a Kashrus violation? Were workers being underpaid or mistreated? The controversy had nothing to do with ingredients, kashrus, or employee conduct. The source of the boycott that could cost the company potentially hundreds of millions of shekel was a social media post by the company’s chairman of the board, Omer Bar-Lev.

Bar-Lev, a longtime Labor Party politician and former Minister of Public Security, participated in a protest outside the Bnei Brak home of Rav Gershon Edelstein, considered by the Chareidi community to be the Gadol HaDor. Bar-Lev posted a picture of himself with the “Brothers in Arms” protest group on Twitter, writing, “Beyond and in addition to the importance of military service to everyone, the law of “No equality in the burden” [i.e., the Draft Law] that the coalition intends to enact is the bribe of [Prime Minister Benjamin] Netanyahu and [Finance Minister Yariv] Levin to the Haredi parties so that they will vote in favor of the coup d’état.”

Charedi politicians immediately expressed outrage, with United Torah Judaism MK Moshe Gafni tweeting, “Omer Bar-Lev and Angel’s have no respect for the Torah! You should seriously consider whether you can trust their kashrut. Bar-Lev does not understand what the Torah is and what is great in the Torah and everyone has to calculate whether it is possible to buy food products from them. I despise him!”

Labor Minister Yoav Ben-Tzur (Shas) attacked Bar-Lev as well, saying “Freedom of expression is not the freedom of humiliation, Omer Bar-Lev and the group of privileged people who demonstrated outside the house of Rabbi Gershon Edelstein disgraced the honor of the Torah and there is no forgiveness for that.”

The call for boycotting Angel’s was swift and the response and cooperation came quickly, sending a loud message not only to Bar-Lev, but also the board of directors and management of Angel’s.

Some have pushed back expressing support for Angel’s and Bar-Lev. Yisrael Beiteinu chairman Avigdor Lieberman posted two pictures of himself purchasing challah in Angel’s, writing: “On the way home, I stopped to buy challos for Shabbat in Angel’s Bakery. As far as I know, the State of Israel is still defined as a democracy and people are allowed to express their opinions. We won’t allow Charedi askanim to harm the livelihood of Israeli citizens.”

This story has not yet concluded, and it remains unclear if Bar-Lev will walk back his post or even resign, or if he will double down and hope that the Bakery will weather the storm.

Whatever your personal opinion on judicial reform, the proposed draft law and any of the other issues being highly contested in Israel, this episode raises what I think is a fascinating question.

When it comes to Bud Light and Hobby Lobby, I understand why people wouldn’t want to patronize or support companies that formally take positions or support policies they strongly disagree with. The episode of Angel’s Bakery, however, seems different. The company didn’t advocate a position, didn’t partner with an activist, and didn’t launch a provocative or controversial marketing campaign. The company did not express any position about the Draft Law or judicial reform. A private individual, not acting as a representative of the company, expressed his opinion, whether you agree with it or not.

Should we boycott every business or hold every company accountable for the personal opinions of its board members? Do we look into the campaign contributions, analyze social media posts, and track every company executive before deciding if we should purchase from that brand? What about the other board members, management, or high-level employees, how far in the company should we go?

While those questions may seem extreme, it seems Bar-Lev made waves specifically because he is the chairman of Angel’s, the current face of the company. When he took on that role, he accepted that he would be synonymous with the brand and that his choices, actions, social media posts, and statements, implicit and explicit, would be associated with the company he chairs. Being the face of a company or brand means people will feel either more aligned or more alienated to the company based on the impression you leave. And fair or unfair, that must be considered before every post, position, or participation.

What’s true for Bar-Lev is true for each and every one of us. We may not have signed up for it but being Jewish means you are the face of our brand, you are synonymous with the Jewish people and with our values, our Torah, and most of all our Creator. When people have positive experiences with you and impressions of you, they will think more highly about the Jewish people and Hashem. If they have a negative interaction or experience with you, they won’t only harbor impressions or feelings about you, but by association they will think more critically about our whole people.

We read just last week, v’lo sechalelu es shem kodshi v’nikdashti besoch b’nei Yisroel, do not desecrate Hashem’s Holy Name, instead, sanctify His name among the Jewish people. Rav Pam noted that these words appear adjacent to the expression Ushemartem mitzvosai v’asisem osam, observe My laws and perform them because the greatest responsibility to “represent” the brand, the people who will most be associated with the total Jewish people and our Torah, are the observant community. Rabbeinu Bechayei notes that there is no middle ground, no neutral. There are only two alternatives provided. With every speech, action and behavior, we are either helping the brand or hurting it, advancing our cause or setting it back, bringing people closer to Hashem and His Torah or causing them to feel further away.

Every time we grab the keyboard to post or proverbial microphone to demonstrate, we need to know, we are the chairman, one wrong move and others could boycott what we hold most dear.

Failing to Recognize Failure – What Giannis and Frum Influencers Got Wrong

Last week, the Milwaukee Bucks, who finished with the best record in the NBA regular season, were eliminated from the playoffs by the Miami Heat, the 8^th seed who barely snuck in. The Bucks’ star player, Giannis Antetokounmpo was asked following the game whether he viewed the season as a “failure.” His refreshingly raw answer went instantly viral and was celebrated not only by secular media and sports fans but received a substantial amount of attention and promotion from frum Jews on social media and “Jewish influencers,” several of whom who labeled it “great mussar.” A rebbe in a yeshiva even played it for the boys in his shiur.

Giannis’ full answer to the reporter:

Do you get a promotion every year on your job? No, right? So, every year you work is a failure? Yes or no? No. Every year you work, you work toward something—toward a goal, right?— which is to get a promotion, to be able to take care of your family, to be able to … provide a house for them or take care of your parents. You work toward a goal. It’s not a failure. It’s steps to success. There’s always steps to it. Michael Jordan played 15 years. Won six championships. The other nine years was a failure? … Exactly, so why do you ask me that question. It’s the wrong question.

There’s no failure in sports. There’s good days, bad days, some days you are able to be successful, some days you are not, some days it is your turn, some days it’s not your turn. That’s what sports is about. You don’t always win. Some other group is gonna win and this year someone else is gonna win. Simple as that. We’re gonna come back next year and try to be better, try to build good habits, try to play better … and hopefully we can win a championship. So, 50 years from 1971 to 2021 [the Bucks] didn’t win a championship, it was 50 years of failure? No it was not. There were steps to it. And we were able to win one and hopefully we can win another one.”

While I admire and appreciate Giannis’s sentiment and understand the power and attraction to his encouragement, I believe his failure to label his season a failure is more than semantics: it is significant, even damaging.

Failures needn’t define us. The most accomplished and greatest people of our sacred history were not perfect and not above failure. They became who they were because they learned how to fail forward, how to see the particular moment, event, decision or act as a failure while not seeing themselves as failures.

Nevertheless, failing forward begins by recognizing and admitting failure. Failures are steps to success only if we pause to honestly assess them as failures, address how they occurred, ask what we can learn from them, and determine how we can avoid them happening again. Failures generate success when we take responsibility for them, hold ourselves accountable for them, and use them to motivate ourselves.

When we whitewash them, downplay them, minimize them, fail to take responsibility for them, we cannot fix them or avoid them. Minimizing and diluting failures by refusing to acknowledge them and instead describing them as part of a process, as steps on a journey, constitutes a failure to be honest, accurate, or accountable.

To be clear, Giannis’s life has been anything but a failure. He was born in Greece to Nigerian immigirants, overcame incredible obstacles including poverty, and against all odds, got drafted into the NBA at a young age. He doesn’t only compete, he has emerged to be one of the best players in the NBA and someone described by his peers as a not only a great ball player, but a great person.

The question from the reporter wasn’t, you were eliminated from the playoffs, is your life a failure. It was, you have been eliminated from the playoffs, would you call this season a failure. His comments are understandable taken in the greater context of his remarkable life story, but they are still wrong regarding the specific question about the season.

The Bucks had the best record in the NBA this season. When the playoffs started they were given the best odds to win the championship, and they were overwhelming favorites to beat the Heat. The city, owners and fans expected the team to do much more than have fun, do their best, and just win one game in the playoffs. The players, coaches and management were paid to win, to take home a championship, certainly to get past the first round. Anything short of these goals was, objectively, a failure.

Identifying something as a failure doesn’t mean beating ourselves up, being debilitated by guilt or shame, or staying stuck in the past. It means being honest with ourselves, taking ownership, and holding ourselves accountable.

Teshuva, repentance, repair, and reproach begin with Viduy, an admission of what went wrong and a declaration of a commitment to improve. Rav Soloveitchik said before we can approach the Mizbeiach, the place of forgiveness and growth, we must pass the kiyor, look in the copper base that is made of mirrors, stare into our reflection, and be honest with ourselves.

We live in a time where there is growing intolerance for pain, discomfort, or failure. Giving everyone a participation trophy can’t and won’t inoculate them from the harsh reality that life will teach them one way or another that in competition, there are winners and there are those crowned champions. There will come a time they may not get into the yeshiva or seminary they want, they may not get the job they want or the “other side” of a shidduch may say no. When we give all children a literal or metaphorical participation trophy, when we try to protect and save them from feelings of failure, pain, disappointment, we stifle their growth, squash their drive, and set them up for unrealistic expectations of how life and the real world will treat them.

The Gemara in Berachos and Bava Basra says “luchos v’shivrei luchos munachin ba’aron.” When Moshe came down from the mountain, saw the people worshipping the calf and smashed the luchos, the broken and shattered pieces were gathered, collected, and carefully placed in the Aron to sit beside the unbroken, complete, second set of tablets. The broken pieces are saved to remind us that our failures and mistakes are not to be discarded, eliminated, and forgotten from our memories. We can only succeed when we remember the broken experiences and use the lessons learned as springboards to success.

A healthier and more Torah-based approach to the question Giannis was posed might have sounded something like: “Yes, given our record, our talent, and our potential, being eliminated in the first round makes this season a failure. We are sorry to the fans and the owners, but we assure you, we won’t be defined by this loss or elimination. Life is a journey, it is made up of many seasons, and while they include failures, we are committed more than ever to learning what went wrong, to working harder than ever to improve, and we hope and plan to come back and succeed in our goal of bringing this city another championship.”

Giannis rhetorically asked if the nine seasons Michael Jordan didn’t win a championship were a failure. We don’t have to speculate how Jordan would answer. In a famous commercial from years ago, Jordan said the following monologue about his career: “I’ve missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. Twenty-six times, I’ve been trusted to take the game-winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.”

Rabbi Yitzchok Hutner wrote a beautiful letter to a student who was very discouraged:

A failing many of us suffer from is that when we consider the aspects of perfection of our sages, we focus on the ultimate level of their attainments, while omitting mention of the inner struggles that had previously raged within them. A listener would get the impression that these individuals came out of the hand of their Creator in full-blown form. Everyone is awed at the purity of speech of the Chofetz Chaim, z.t.l., considering it a miraculous phenomenon. But who knows of the battles, struggles and obstacles, the slumps and regressions that the Chofetz Chaim encountered in his war with the yetzer hara (evil inclination)? There are many such examples, to which a discerning individual such as yourself can certainly apply the rule. The English expression, ‘Lose a battle and win a war’ applies. Certainly you have stumbled, and will stumble and in many battles you will fall lame. I promise you, though, that after those losing campaigns you will emerge from the war with the laurels of victory upon your head. Lose battles but win wars.

Several years ago, I had the privilege to interview Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks zt”l. I asked him:

When we look at your life and productivity, whether the trajectory of ascending to the chief rabbinate, publishing 30 books, 17 honorary degrees, being named a Lord, etc., it just seems that you have had success after success, triumph after triumph. Have you ever experienced failure? Have you ever had any challenges that you couldn’t overcome and what gave you the tenacity to persevere?

He was taken aback, even amused by my question, and this was his response:

Ha! Have I ever experienced failure?! My goodness me! Oooh! [Laughter.] I nearly failed my first year in university. I nearly failed my second year in university. I was turned down for virtually every job that I applied for. Since I was a kid, I wanted to write a book. I started when I was 20 and I gave it every minute of spare time that I had. Even when Elaine and I went to a concert I would be writing notes during intervals or between movements during a symphony. Yet, I failed for 20 years! From 20 to 40 I had a whole huge file cabinet of books I started and never finished.

What changed is I happened to be reading the preface to “Plays Unpleasant” by George Bernard Shaw. It opens by saying that if you’re going to write a book, write it by the time you’re 40 or forget it. I thought it was Min Hashamayim. Someone is telling me something because I had no idea why I happened to read that passage by that writer at that time. I thought to myself that it was my last chance. So, I wrote my first book at 40 and then I wrote a book a year ever since.

Winston Churchill put it beautifully: “Success is going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.” The secret was marrying someone who believes in you and then to just keep going. Never stop! All of the things that came much later, most of them unexpected – very moving but not the ikkar – it’s just “keeping on going” day after day.

That wonderful Medrash in hakdama of Ein Yaakov asks what is the main pasuk in the Torah? One [Tanna] said that it’s loving your fellow man, ואהבת לרעך כמוך. A second said שמע ישראל, it’s about accepting the yoke of Heaven. Then, Ben Pazzi says את הכבש אחד תעשה בבקר… bringing the daily sacrifice in the morning and in the evening. It’s about Shacharis, Mincha, Maariv. That’s life! You keep hammering away and eventually you’ll get there.

The only thing that is absolutely necessary is that you have to key into your mental satellite navigation system, your destination. Because if you don’t know where you’re trying to get to, you’ll never get there. I knew I wanted to write a book. It took 20 years of failure until I finally succeeded in the twenty-first year.

It is not a failure to acknowledge, recognize, and call out failure by its name. Giannis is objectively wrong: there are failures in sports, just like there are failures in life. Not all failures are bad, and we shouldn’t be afraid to experience them or to name them. On the contrary, by properly naming them, owning them, and learning from them, we can use them to propel ourselves to greater successes than we ever thought possible.

All You Need is Love

Rav Aryeh Levin was known as the tzadik of Yerushalayim, the righteous man of Jerusalem. He was incredibly pious, kind, and a great scholar. He lived in the quaint area of Nachlaot, right behind the shuk in Machaneh Yehudah. There was a young man who grew up in the neighborhood whom R’ Aryeh knew well but he felt the boy was avoiding him. One day, they bumped into each other in the narrow alleys of Nachlaot and Rav Aryeh confronted him and said, “I can’t help but feel you are avoiding me, tell me how are you?” The young man sheepishly replied that it was true, he was avoiding the great rabbi as he had grown up observant but had chosen to walk away from observant life altogether.

He said, “Rebbe, I was so embarrassed to meet you since I have taken off my kippa and am no longer observant.” Rav Aryeh took the young man’s hand into his own and said the following. “My dear Moshe. Don’t worry. I am a very short man. I can only see what is in your heart, I cannot see what is on your head.”

Our Parsha commands us V’ahavta l’reiacha kamocha, to love our neighbor as ourselves. “Kamocha” doesn’t mean love your neighbor as you love yourself, which is unrealistic, if not impossible. It means love you neighbor—why? Because “Kamocha,” he or she is similar to you. You both possess the same spark of life, the same Godly soul, you both have strengths and weaknesses, you both have virtues and faults, you both have things to be proud of and areas to work on.

We cannot love others, certainly not all others as much as we love ourselves, but we certainly can learn to love more. Why should we and how can we? Kamocha, because if you can cut away their different kippa or their lack of a kippa, if you ignore how they dress differently, act differently, think differently, if you cut away their idiosyncrasies and habits that drive you crazy, you will find they are kamocha, just like you.

Rebbe Akiva witnessed thousands of his students fail this lesson. They focused on their differences rather than choose to embrace their similarities and the result was that they couldn’t see themselves in one another, they could not relate or identify. They saw their fellow student as different, the other, and that caused them to disrespect one another. Rebbe Akiva attended thousands of funerals and delivered thousands of eulogies as his students were cut down by a punitive plague and he turned around and taught, ואהבת לרעך כמוך is the כלל גדול בתורה, the primary principle of the Torah.

It is not a coincidence that the same Rebbe Akiva is quoted in Pirkei Avos as teaching us חביב אדם שנברא בצלם, precious is every person because we were all created in the image of God. Internalizing that is the secret of loving everyone.

We may not have the capacity to love others as much as ourselves, but we can do a whole lot better at loving others, especially those who are different than us, by focusing on the Kamocha, that as different as they seem, they are in truth just like us. Loving those who are just like you in hashkafa, halacha and are your dear friends is wonderful but it is not the most authentic expression of ahavas yisroel. Peeling back the layers of that which separates us from others until we find common ground and that which connects us, that is ahavas yisroel.

But love goes beyond tolerating, it goes beyond finding commonality. To truly love a fellow Jew means something even more.

R’ Moshe Leib Sassover used to tell his chassidim that he learned what it means to love a fellow Jew from two Russian peasants. Once he came to an inn, where two thoroughly drunk Russian peasants were sitting at a table, draining the last drops from a bottle of strong Ukrainian vodka. One of them yelled to his friend, “Do you love me?” The friend, somewhat surprised, answered, “Of course, of course I love you!” “No, no”, insisted the first one, “Do you really love me, really?!” The friend assured him, “Of course I love you. You’re my best friend!” “Tell me, do you know what I need? Do you know why I am in pain?” The friend said, “How could I possibly know what you need or why you are in pain?” The first peasant answered, “How then can you say you love me when you don’t know what I need or why I am in pain.”

R’ Moshe Leib told his chassidim, he learned from these peasants that truly loving someone means to know their needs and to feel their pain. Real love is not lip service, it is not just tolerating one another. Love is noticing someone is having a bad day, it is feeling their pain, it is showing someone you care, even when that person is someone you barely know or don’t know at all.

The blessings of Birchos HaShachar are said in the plural – פוקח עורים, מלביש ערומים, etc. There is one exception – שעשה לי כל צרכי thank you God, who fulfills all of my needs. Why is this blessing written in the singular?

The same R’ Moshe Leib Sassover who taught us what it means to love a fellow Jew explains that when it comes to ourselves, we should have an attitude that I have everything I need. We should feel content and satisfied. However, when it comes to others, we must be thinking – he or she don’t have everything they need. What are they lacking? How can I help them? What can I do for them?

There are people around us hurting, lacking or in pain. If we claim to love them, we cannot fail to notice. While Shabbos is the happiest most peaceful day of the week for many, for others, it is filled with stress, anxiety, and pain. Imagine being alone and each week as you get closer to Shabbos wondering if you will get invited out for meals. Imagine coming to shul still not having dinner or lunch arranged and wondering if anyone, even those who “love” you, will make sure you have a place to go or will give you greater dignity by inviting you earlier in the week. Imagine the prospect of a long Shabbos day by yourself. How much of a nap and how much reading can you do before you feel lonely? If we love our fellow Jews and our neighbors, we must make sure none of them feels alone.

In the sefer Kavanas Ha’Ari, it says that before beginning davening in the morning, one should say: הריני מקבל עלי מצות ואהבת לרעך כמוך, I hereby accept upon myself the positive commandment to Love your fellow as yourself.” Based on R’ Moshe Leib Sassover’s insight, we can understand this to mean that before we can pour out our hearts to Hashem for all of our needs, we must pause to think about our fellow man and their needs. Before we ask Hashem to be there for us, we must commit to be there for others.

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