Insights and Inspiration
from the
Holy Land
from
from
Rabbi Ephraim Schwartz
"Your friend in Karmiel"
November 18th 2016 -Volume 7 Issue 4 18th
Cheshvan 5777
Parshat Vayeira
Shul Shopping
I loved shul as a kid growing up. It was a
special treat to walk with my father each week the 15 minutes or so to get
there even in the worst Michigan weather. But he kept me entertained with
stories the whole way. Stories about Bugs Bunny and Jewish super heroes that
liked chulent of course and their wacky adventures. When we got to shul the
first stop was of course to the candy men. No that is not a typo. We had Mr.
Carmen who had lollipops. Rabbi Rockov was his competition with other types of
candies. Mr Manela generally had some gum. It was like trick or treat each
Shabbos. I would then head off to the back of the shul where my buddies and I
would engage in our important shul activities. See, we would collect bottle
caps from the Atlas Soda bottles they would serve by Kiddush in Shul and play
some table bottle cap football or hockey with them. Usually around Torah
reading time we would head out and peek through the window of the side room
where the ‘adults’ would congregate. Not the ones in shul davening or listening
to the Torah reading, I mean. No, we would be checking out the ones in the
Kiddush club. The sweet smell of Sol’s homemade herring, the crackle of the kichel
being broken, the sound of the clinking of plastic shot glasses and l’chaim
could be heard from the doorway and when some men came out we could certainly detect
the faint smell of schnapps wafting out as well, as they would shoo us away.
Every once in a while there would be a Kiddush
in a shul. A bar mitzva, an aufruf or some other special occasion. Those
were the really exciting weeks. The whole shul smelled of chulent and we would
be sitting like hungry kittens in Israel outside my garbage; licking our lips
and waiting impatiently, our places all reserved already, for the bounty to
begin. Yeah, I loved shul. I evened davened sometimes as well.
But times changed in our congregation. The old
Rabbi left, the new one came in and he did not like Kiddush club. He did not
like kids running in and out and hitting up the old people for candy
repeatedly. See, some of them were getting senile and they would never remember
if they had given us already or not J. We did nothing to jog their memory of the
candy we had received not just a half hour before. But the new Rabbi didn’t
like that. He didn’t like people talking in shul. ‘Shul was a place to
daven’ he would say as he stopped the Torah reading in middle. ‘not to
shmooze’. It was a revolutionary idea for me. There were many quote-
un-quote ‘adults’ that certainly had a different opinion. I agreed with them.
But they eventually left. My father was a traditionalist and a loyalist. And so
we stayed. And davened. I still would sneak candy though.
As I got older I went to yeshiva. There is was
pretty much the opposite experience. Davening was something very serious. It
was something we had to come on time to. If not we would get fined. 50 cents
after barchu and a dollar after Shmona Esrei. They taught us that
davening was avoda. It was work. The labor of the heart. I got myself a
Metsuda linear siddur so that I could actually start to learn what the words I
had been saying for years actually meant. Eventually I upgraded to an Artscroll
which had all types of interesting explanations I could distract myself with as
I expanded my appreciation and nuances of the ancient words of our sages who
had composed and recited these prayers for millennia. Yet it was still pretty
much an intellectual exercise. Something we did besides learn Torah and Talmud
all day. There were times when my heart was engaged. When I felt something
‘spiritual’-whatever that meant or means- stir within me. Rosh Hashana, Yom
Kippur when we knew we had really better make our prayers count- or we might
just die. By fire, water, sword or pestilence- take your choice. On Friday
nights when we would have a bit of singing during Kabalat Shabbos. Not
too much. Let’s not get carried away. And of course don’t dance because that
would be a prohibition according to many halachic opinions. But they were nice
tunes. And there were at least 6 or 7 alternate ones they would use. Sometimes
even the latest hits. So there were times. But mostly I longed for the Kiddush
club.
After getting married I moved to New York.
Where I lived in Flatbush we literally had a smorgasbord of shuls all within a 4
block radius of my house. I think I once counted about 15 of them. There was
the Young Israel on the corner, where I would sometimes accompany my
grandfather. It was pretty institutionalized. Same songs each week, quick dvar
torah, a kids sings yigdal or adon olam at the end and you were
out. Slam Bam Shabbat Shalom Maam. I didn’t go much for the institutional thing
though. There was Katz’s shtiebel on the corner. Latest shacharis in
town, torah reading was pretty quick although a good portion of it was probably
read out of a chumash as the layner tried to learn it on the go.
But there was always the Rebbetzin’s chulent Kiddush afterwards. The Rebbe had
passed away though years before and I kind of missed a nice dvar torah.
I then tried out Lefkowitz’s it was a bit of a walk, but he really had an
amazing drasha each week that incorporated the parsha, some halacha and
inspiration. No chulent though. My last shot though was at Shmiddmans which was
kind of a blend between the three. A
late shacharis, a little chasidish, a little drasha and a
Kiddush with a once in a while chulent but usually at least some kugel
and herring. I felt like the Goldi-lox of shuls.
Ultimately we escaped Brooklyn. I experienced
some more shuls. A quasi orthodox one in Des Moines; no mechitza between
men and women and microphone on Shabbos- we made our own minyan there. Norfolk
Virginia had an amazing shul with great singing, fantastic drashos and a
herring social Kiddush each week. It probably became one of my models when I
ultimately opened up my own outreach shul in West Seattle. Being that most of
my congregation there couldn’t read Hebrew-my first week there was me an eleven
year old boy and a curious gentile- and I wanted to make it inspiring. I would
intersperse the service with explanation stories and insights. We had lots of
singing. Different tunes each week. And of course it’s when the Rebbetzin’s
chulent first made its public debut. Our shul grew. We would have people that
came from the orthodox neighborhood that would come check it out and shared
with us afterwards that for many of them it was the first time they experienced
a shul that inspired them. A place where the davening came to life. It was
truly a communication with the almighty. The stories and insights made the
words they had been saying by rote for years, a personal and meaningful
expression of their inner thoughts and emotions to Hashem. I suspected they
were just saying that because they liked the Rebbetzin’s chulent, but I
certainly knew that it did that for me.
When we moved to Eretz Yisrael I began a shul
in our community as well. It was a different crowd. Most of them were
hareidi Kollel guys. I couldn’t intersperse the prayers with insights and
stories any longer. But I got to keep my songs, my drasha and most
importantly my Kiddush. I love my shul.
I love the people that come regularly, the ones that pop in once in a while.
And I love that it offers a place where everyone feels comfortable and feels
that they can get something from it. They can be themselves. They can find
themselves. They can find Hashem in themselves.
In
Israel perhaps one of the great tragedies is that many people view their shuls
as just a place to daven. We have to pray three times a day. I need a place to
do it. The Shul works. It has to meet my needs. If it doesn’t we’ll find a new
one. Or I‘ll do shacharis here, mincha here, shabbos
evening here and High Holidays wherever. On the one hand it’s nice to have such
a variety. It also probably saves you money because sadly many people feel that
they don’t need to contribute as they are only davening there for one prayer here
and there. On the other hand the shul doesn’t become your community. A person
doesn’t feel he has a place. Even worse perhaps that he doesn’t need a place. I
told someone once how imagine if your work office they switched your cubicle or
office to another place three times a day and a few times a week. It would be
hard to connect, to work, to have that sense of belonging that I think is
essential to producing a meaningful work product. Why do we treat our shuls any
different? Our prayers, our conversations with God?
This week’s Torah portion has continues to
tell us the story of our forefather Avraham, the man who our sages tell us
established the concept of a regular morning prayer to Hashem. The Torah tell
us about one of the most essential lessons Avraham taught us about praying. It
was right after the Avraham’s seemingly failed prayer and advocacy on behalf of
the cities of Sodom that Hashem had said he would destroy. The verse says
Bereshit (19:27)
“And
Avraham arose early in the morning to the place where he had stood before
Hashem
Our sages derive from this verse in the
tractate Brachot (6B)
R.
Chelbo, in the name of R. Huna, says: Whosoever has a
fixed place for his prayer has the God of
Avraham as his helper. And
when he dies, people will say of him:
Where is the pious man, where is the humble man? One of the disciples of our
father Avraham!
How
do we know that our father Avraham had a fixed place [for his prayer]?
For
it is written: ‘And Avraham got up early in the morning to the place where he had stood.’
And
'standing' means nothing else but prayer.
Wow! Who would’ve thought that just having a
set place to daven would make a person a righteous person, a humble person? It
seems to be kind of a jump? It doesn’t even say that you have to pay synagogue
dues. What is so important about having a set place to daven? Isn’t Hashem
everywhere? And why would that make someone a humble or righteous person?
On the last question Rav Tzvi Pesach Frank is
quoted as having said rather ruefully. That someone that stays in the same shul
forever and doesn’t get into a fight with the Gabbai, the Rabbi, the president
or the guy that prays (or talks J) next to him, and doesn’t leave and go to
another shul must be either a very righteous and forgiving person or someone
extremely humble. Ouch! I think we can all relate to that one.
However other commentaries suggest perhaps
something a bit more meaningful. It is interesting, the Shemen Hatov notes,
that it is precisely here that the Torah chooses to teach this lesson about
Avraham. For it is here the day after seemingly his all night prayer and
beseeching before Hashem seems to have not worked. He wakes up the next morning
and the city is burning. A mushroom cloud rises over the horizon. Sodom is
gone. His prayers didn’t work. Some of us might say- fuggedaboutit. The
rest of us are not from New York and would pronounce that like three different
words but with the same meaning. Does it really pay? Maybe I need to find a new
shul. Maybe this whole prayer thing is meaningless. What’s really the point, if
Hashem doesn’t answer my prayers anyways?
But not Avraham. He understood that prayers
aren’t about necessarily getting what we want. They’re also not about giving
Hashem any extra praise, or trying to ask for things and recognizing that he is
our Father and the giver of all that we have. Neither is it even merely about
taking time out and expressing our gratitude to Him. The word prayer in Hebrew tefila
comes from the word to judge pelilim. Prayer is a time for one to
self-examine oneself before his Creator. What am I here for? You put me in this
world. You want a relationship with me. You have empowered me, given me gifts,
talents, blessings. I have a neshoma; a piece of the divine in me. In
fact the word to daven in Yiddish, someone one told me comes from that
same Latin root word of divine. Davening is about revealing that inner spark.
Recharging it. Recalibrating it. Restoring it factory settings. To do that
properly one needs to be in the same place. It’s not the place that needs to
change. It’s me. Me in the same place, but a different, better me. I have the
same job, challenges, life and opportunities. I’m not running anywhere from
them. I’m not blaming them on my location, my circumstances. I may not have been
successful yesterday. But today I’ve been given a new chance and opportunity.
Today. Here. This morning, this afternoon, and this evening.
The Ari’Zl gives a beautiful parable how
prayer is like a warrior that is trying to breach the wall of a city. He takes
a fiery arrow and shoots it at the wall, and nothing happens. If he then goes
and tries shooting it in another place and another and another, nothing may
ever happen. If however he keeps shooting at the same spot again and again.
Eventually that wall will come a’ tumbling down. The Ari then says that when
the Temple was up we had that direct contact with Hashem. A straight line up.
We knew what we were here for. There was one place where we could connect with
him and get that awakening and reflection that we needed to do. Since it has
been destroyed though it is as if there is an ‘iron wall’ between us and
heaven. Between us and our Father. The Shulchan Aruch- code of Jewish law
suggests that’s why we need a permanent place for it. For our prayers are like
the sacrifices that were once brought. They need that permanence, that one
place where we can keep bringing them. It’s how we can connect. You can and
perhaps should shop around for clothing. For food. For plumbers, doctors, even
Rabbis and tour guides. All of them might need to be upgraded, replaced. Some
daily, some seasonally, some as you grow older and wiser. Sometimes you want
different varieties for different moods. Different tastes. Different problems.
But there’s no need to shop for shuls. You’ve just got to find the one that
makes you feel like you have your place. One place that will be your home. That
will be your gateway to heaven. That’s the door that Hashem will always be
standing on the other side waiting to hear you from. He’s there. Are you?
Have an absolutely amazing Shabbos!
Rabbi Ephraim
Schwartz
This week’s Insights and Inspiration is sponsored
by my dear friend Minnette Almoslino of Seattle Washington. Minnette is truly
one of the most amazing people I know. I don’t’ know to many people that at her
“young age” has such incredible energy, such a love of Torah, of classes, of
Hashem and her fellow Jew. A true disciple of Sarah Immeinu. Minnette will
always be an incredible role model for me. May Hashem bless her with many more
healthy energetic years until 120!
Thank you for your sponsorship and even more
so for your readership and comments and feedbacks each week!
Thank You!
**********************************
RABBI SCHWARTZ COOL VIDEOS OF THE WEEK
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_ox4vLGH4U
in honor of his yartzeit Reb Shlomo Carlebach on Vayeira and song
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbw9eHe9i-Q
– Happy first birthday to our Sefer Torah last years hachnasat
Sefer Torah in Karmiel
https://youtu.be/rTwLdj44G5s – Hundreds
gather at Shlomo Carlebach grave for his yartzeit singing for hours…
RABBI SCHWARTZ’S
FAVORITE YIDDISH PROVERB OF THE WEEK
“Ven ale mentshn zoln tsien af eyn zayt, volt
zikh di velt ibergekert.” If everyone pulled in one direction, the world would tip over.
RABBI SCHWARTZ'S TOUR
GUIDE EXAM QUESTION OF THE WEEK
answer below at end of Email
Q. An oak that is not indigenous
(native) to Israel:
A. Cork oak
B. Boissier oak
C. Mount Thabor’s oak
D. Palestine oak
A. Cork oak
B. Boissier oak
C. Mount Thabor’s oak
D. Palestine oak
RABBI SCHWARTZ'S ILLUMINATING RASHI OF THE WEEK
One small word in a
Rashi. Just one word and a whole world can open up if you just take the time to
examine it. We all have the famous image of Avraham Avinu sitting outside his
tent right after his circumcision distraught, but not over the painful procedure
he underwent at his well advanced age. Rather it was over the fact that he
could not find any guests that he could offer his famous hospitality to.
Rashi notes on the
verse in the beginning of the Parsha
Bereshis (18:1) And he was sitting at the
entrance of his tent- To see if there was anyone that was passing or
returning that he would be able to invite them to his house.
Did you catch the
extra word here? The Pardes Yosef does. He asks why Rashi needs to say ‘passing
or returning’. We would be able to get the same message had he just said anyone
passing. He answers with an important lesson. There were certainly people that
passed by Avraham’s house that he invited in. Heck, anyone that passed by got a
meal by him. But perhaps, Avraham was nervous, there were some that had already
come to him on their way going, but did not want to be a burden again on the
way back. So they would try to avoid him. They were embarrassed. So Avraham was
not merely on the lookout for guests. His intense caring and sensitivity for
individuals was as well for people that might feel a bit more intimidated by
coming. He wanted the repeat customers. As my mother taught me if you say thank
you and compliment the meal after you have eaten, that doesn’t prove anything.
You’re just being polite. The sign of a good guest is one who comes back for
doubles J. I guess she, and therefore I in turn as well who tell that to
my guests, learned that from Avraham Avinu. Isn’t it amazing what you can learn
from just one word in Rashi.
Rabbi Yosef
Patchinovski- The Pardes Yosef - (1875-1942), This incredible Polish
scholar who was a Gerrer Chasid and is known for his scholarly work on Rashi
and the Torah never served as a Rabbi, a Rosh Yeshiva or even teacher. He was
in fact a simple wood salesman. Quite a succssefful one at that. Yet if you
asked him he would tell you that was just the way he supported his family. Hes
love and passion was his Torah study. By his own testimony “anyone
that came to my house or my shop always saw that I never rested or was still.
Rather all my days I was enraptured in Torah. All the days include the nights
he said- for during the nights as well my heart did not rest, rather ‘the
morning would come and it was Leah’ it was wonderful and much toil.”
A descendant of the famed Nesivot Hamishpat. Rav Yosef lived in
Lodz Poland during the war years. His family was all killed in the Holocaust.
He himself was only able to print the first three volumes of the Torah work
that he had written. The rest being lost. He is buried in the cemetery in Lodz.
He passed away 4 days after his wife at the age of 67. May his memory be
blessed.
RABBI SCHWARTZ'S TYPES
OF JEWS IN ISRAEL OF THE WEEK
Kibbutznik (over 100,000)- They were the image of the young
Zionist state of Israel. The shorts, the kova tembel and the orange picking
sabra look personified the ‘new jew’ the one that would make the desolate land
flourish once again. The socialist communal living model which began in 1920’s
with the establishment of Degania with 12 members, reached 65,000 by the 1950’s
and had almost 8% of the population living on kibbutzim. The movement peaked in
the late 80’s with about 130,000 members. It has gone down since then. Kibbutz
life was the classic utopian model of socialized living. Everyone is equal, all
money is communal, jobs are alternated so that everyone shares in the labor
equally. Kibbutznikim would eat together, live in communal housing any change
or decoration or personalization would have to be decided by committee.
Children of Kibbutznikim initially were all kept at children’s home. They were
after-all products of the Kibbutz and they did not refer to their ‘birthers’ as
parents. With the advent of a globalized economy which hurt them economically,
as well as with the exposure and advancement of the amenities and lifestyles of
those that lived and worked in the private sector the Kibbutz movement has gone
down. As well the ideological imperative of planting and flourishing the land
has gone down in much of the secular post-zionist world as many of them view
the ‘occupation’ at the more right-wing ideology as morally distasteful.
Interestingly although the Kibbutz movement initially was a very strong secular
almost anti-religious movement, today there are more and more of them that are
more welcoming to religion with a tremendous return to Torah Judaism and
observance. Many are building shuls and Mikva and host Torah classes regularly-
thanks to the Ayelet Hashachar movement that reaches out to them. There are
close to 270 Kibbutzim in Israel today-16 of them are in fact religious ones. Most
of them are located in the North and South of Israel. Many Kibbutzim have left
agriculture and entered into new sources of income. Kibbutz Sasa generated 850
million dollars in its military plastics industry and Kibbutz Ketura becoming
one of the world leaders in solar power technology.
A Texas rancher visits a
kibbutz farm in Israel. After he is shown all the agricultural advances, he
tells the Sabra: "I'm real impressed with your farm here, but where I come
from, I can drive all day and not reach the other end of my ranch." The
Sabra replies: "I know how you feel. I once had a car like that too!"
Yankel the Kibbtznik’s mother
moved to the city. She was not too successful there and she had a hard time
getting used to city life. He would visit here occasionally and when he would
she would send him out to the bus station to go shopping for her. Not ever
having done the whole city bus thing when the driver asked him for his money he
said he didn’t’ have any. Instead he offered him a dozen eggs. To barter as is
the custom n the socialist community he was from. The driver agreed and he got
his ride. The next time as well he brought him the eggs. The third time he came
however with a chicken in tow. When the driver asked him what this was for.
Yankel told him it was his monthly pass…
Sol Rosenberg’s wife Esther was complaining to
all of their friends at shul that she didn’t like it that Sol would attend the
men’s only “Kiddush club” on Shabbat mornings.
So one day Sol decided to
invite Esther to the Kiddush club with him.
"What'll you have?"
he asked.
"Oh, I don't know. The
same as you I suppose," she replied.
So Sol poured some single
malt scotch for himself and Esther and he downed his drink quickly. Esther
watched in amazement, and then took a sip from her glass. She immediately spat
it out. "Yuck, that's TERRIBLE!" she spluttered. "How you can
drink this stuff!"
"Well, there you
go," said Sol. "And you think I'm down here enjoying myself Shabbat
morning!"
David Goldberg had never
celebrated Shabbat before but he was invited by his observant friend Moishe to
shul for the Shabbos Project. Moishe took him to the “Kiddush Club” where they
proceeded to have a number of l’chaims – scotch, bourbon, wine – you name it.
Moishe was trying to explain
to David some of the many laws relating to Shabbat when David said, “I’ll admit
– I don’t fully understand all of the laws of Shabbat yet, but there’s one law
that makes perfect sense.”
“What’s that,” asked Moishe.
“No driving on Shabbos!
**************
Answer is D – Botany not my strong point. But the Oak trees are the most
common in Israel. The Palestine Oak or Alon hamatzui is the most common
tree in Israel. The Tabor Oak is all over the lower Galilee. The first two were
a challenge to narrow down. But the Hebrew translation helped me out. As the
Bossier or whatever is called the alon tola which is a worm and in fact
the tola’at shani dye that was used in the Mishkan comes from the worm
that hangs out in the tree. Which leaves the cork tree as the correct answer
which I should have known as well with all my visits to wineries where they
have told me that the corks are imported. But I was perhaps too busy focusing
on the wine.
No comments:
Post a Comment