A classic from the Rebbe, his yahrzeit was this week on 3 Tammuz.
1. The Road Home THERE was a time, at first, when I used to believe that all those who recognized the Jews as a people, with a claim to an individual life of its own, were full, national Jews—no matter in which soil they had their spiritual roots. At that time I did not think at all about religion. To be sure, I knew that in earlier times religion occupied the foremost place in the life of the Jewish people, and it seemed that even today it still wielded a considerable influence. But that did not concern me, nor those who thought as I did. After all, we were national Jews—national loyalty, not religious conviction, was to us the criterion of a Jew.
Somewhat later I came to realize that it was not good enough merely to acknowledge allegiance to one nation or another, as one pleased; to belong to it, one had to enter into its life and spirit. Of course this view did not let me treat religion with my former indifference: it was in religion that the Jewish spirit had expressed itself through the ages. Yet I still felt that the Jewish religion had lost its significance for present and future. Why, indeed, need it be considered the only, immortal expression of the Jewish spirit? Could this not come to the surface in other, in all, aspects of social and cultural life?
I could not cling to this view for long. It became clear to me that the history of humanity, of all the nations, all the efforts and achievements of culture, had crystallized and developed around religious, spiritual centers. I gazed with awe and fervor upon the mysterious spiritual forces which direct the paths of man according to set goals. Naturally I applied this discovery also to Jewish history; and recognized that the future of the Jewish people, if there was to be one, could only be inspired by, and built around, its central spiritual core. But I was still too deeply steeped in the spirit of materialism to draw practical consequences from my new wisdom. I knew well enough now that religion could not be explained away as a useful invention of man; and I realized that its teachings on the unity and meaningfulness of historic developments were true. But I did not act upon these teachings, because I did not, at this time, truly believe: I did not know G-d yet.
Today I do; I have meditated much about the latter and, if necessary, I can defend (not, G-d forbid, prove) my belief in G-d and all its implications by all manners of rational arguments. For example, I can note the fact that the plan of a man's life, the development of his spirit, is already determined at the moment of his coming into existence; why, then, should nature and history as a whole be considered to be planless, accidental, without a living spirit to direct them from the first? Actually, if there were only a purely mechanical process of world development, we could not speak of moral laws (as we in fact do); these only make sense if we consider humanity capable of freely realizing given spiritual goals. We may consider the development of our world very much like the unreeling of a string from a spool; more and more of the string appears to us, but all of it had already existed before, although invisible to us—and, in the same way, world development may be conceived as the gradual expression of a prior plan laid down by the Eternal Spirit. Religious faith is challenged by the assertion that world development was not planned, and only appears to express a meaningful plan—yet such an assertion is itself based on a new kind of faith. It can hardly be denied that where there appears a plan there must be a planner, that the immense structure of the world presupposes a world builder. From this idea of G-d as planning for eternity I can derive the omnipotence, omniscience, justice and mercy of G-d, without concern for the fashionable arguments of our time.
But these, and other, considerations are not the reason for my faith in G-d today; and it was not they which led me to it. I did not seek G-d, as people put it, very nicely but hypocritically; I did not have to find Him. He suddenly announced Himself to me and entered into my consciousness. Without any mediating speculation I recognized Him, in whom the spiritual foundations of all nations are anchored, the Father and First Cause of all that exists, the Prime Planner of all developments, the Prime Builder of our world. For a while false shame did not let me submit to this new discovery. But soon it was overcome by a new and burning shame which has not left me to this day: shame that I should have been for so long among those who do not know of Him; that the wisdom of my ancestors, the greatest there ever was on earth, had so long been dormant within me, and the voice of my people silent so long.
It was then that I rid myself of the last vestiges of my materialistic view of history, and came to recognize the unique nature and life of my people. True enough, I realized, the other nations had men who knew of G-d even before Jewish influence had reached them. But these men only philosophized about Him as a cold and lofty abstraction; they did not love Him, and were not His messengers. He did not inspire them to rise up before their peoples, to proclaim Him to them, to enter with Him into the world. The nations continued to go their diverse ways; they looked for G-d in the multiplicity of appearances, in the colorful variety of idols. Only to us, to the speck of dust among the mountains; to us, who since time immemorial, had known G-d without seeking Him, the first and only ones; to us alone was He more than a philosophical discovery. We entered with Him into the world, to understand its meaning and purpose; we entered with Him into history, to shape it according to His will. We alone organized our little community for Him alone, without looking for power or petty profits. Thus we remained lonely and unrecognized among the heathen nations of ancient times—eccentrics for whom they had no use or understanding. Even later, through the ages, when we met with the nations of the world, we stayed in splendid isolation.
We did indeed give them new religious foundations; our Jewish idea of G-d entered into the world as a perpetual ferment—so that we can almost speak of a "colonial Judaism" among the nations. But again and again the tough pagan strain inherent in the nations asserted itself by rebelling against our great and unique remaking of the human spirit. Ever more frequently they attacked those religious and social institutions and movements in their midst which had been inspired by Judaism (even though these structures themselves had rebelled and developed away from their Jewish origins). They seemed unable to tolerate their Jewish background and component elements. Particularly since the days of the Renaissance, the attacks multiplied upon the Jewish principle, "G-d first, and only then the world"; and upon the restraints divinely imposed on man. The ancestral instincts of pagan man strove ever more to break through these restraints, and to attain the so-called "'free play of forces" which does not only let a Cain slay an Abel but even, on occasion, allows one Abel to destroy another.
We, however, were like men in a well-protected port, looking out upon a storm-swept sea. With astonished eyes we watched the battle raging abroad because of a little part of our Jewish faith. We remained in our safe haven, alone with our holy mysteries of eternity. G-d had chosen us—and we Him.
By Dovid Zaklikowski
Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, Talmudist, Halachist, physician, philosopher and communal leader, known in the Jewish world by the acronym "Rambam" and to the world at large as "Maimonides," is one of the most important figures in the history of Torah scholarship; on his gravestone were inscribed the words, "From Moses to Moses, none arose as Moses."
Today, many hospitals and schools across the globe are named after Maimonides; and to this day, students worldwide pore over his scholarly works.
Biography Main Article: The Rambam: A Biography
Traditional portrait of Rambam, and authentic signature of the Rambam Moshe was born in Cordoba, Spain, on the 14th of Nissan (the eve of Passover) of the year 4895 (1135 C.E.1). His father Maimon, a direct descendant of King David, was a judge in the city's rabbinical court. His mother passed away immediately after his birth.
At the age of thirteen, his family was forced to flee Cordoba when a fanatic Islamic sect took control of the city; the Jews were attacked by rioters and many synagogues were destroyed.
Moshe and his family traveled from place to place looking where to relocate. Not finding anything suitable in Spain, he and his father and younger brother, David, moved to Fez, Morocco, for five years. In 4925 (1165 C.E.), he visited the land of Israel and then moved to Alexandria, Egypt. Later, he settled in Fustat, today known as Old Cairo, where he lived until his passing.
In Egypt, Maimonides was supported by his brother David, a merchant who imported diamonds from India. His financial support gave Maimonides the ability to devote himself to the study of Torah and to author his scholarly work on the Mishnah, the 2nd century seminal work on Jewish law.
Tragedy befell him when his father, wife and two sons died within a span of two years, starting in 1166. Several years later, in 1171, his brother David drowned when his ship sunk en route to India.
Without the support of his brother, he began practicing medicine and struggled to support himself and his brother's family.
In his mid-fifties, Maimonides was appointed as a personal physician by a royal courtier and then to Saladin, the sultan of Egypt and Syria. His new appointments and duties gave him financial stability and more – albeit still very limited – time to devote to his writing.
His son and faithful student, Abraham, was his only remaining immediate family member.
Scholarship Main Article: Talmudist
Facsimile of a page from the manuscript of Rambam’s Mishneh Torah At a young age, Maimon personally educated his son and brought him to the revered teacher, Rabbi Yosef ibn Migash, known as the Ree Migash, a rabbi in Alusina, Spain (today known as Lucene). Maimonides would later consider him his primary mentor.
In his mid-20s, he began authoring numerous volumes on the Mishnah, which he completed around ten years later. His intent was to assist those who could not understand the Mishnah's Hebrew and often cryptic text, and for that reason, the commentary was written in Arabic but with Hebrew lettering.
He then wrote a volume in Arabic called Sefer Hamitzvot, listing all of the 613 commandments. These volumes were later translated into Hebrew numerous times, once still in his lifetime.
Additional Works Main Article: Responsa
Maimonides also authored the Guide for the Perplexed, or Moreh Nevuchim, a foundational work on Jewish philosophy; the Letter of Martyrdom, a letter to Yemenite Jews encouraging them in their difficult plight; and other letters (gathered together in Pe'er Hador and today published as a single volume). Maimonides also wrote an Oath for Physicians, and various medical texts are attributed to him.
Code of Jewish Law Main Article: Codification of Jewish Law
Inner cover of the Rambam’s Mishneh Torah from the 1574 edition printed in Venice, Italy Maimonides' magnum opus is his codification of Jewish law, which he called Mishneh Torah, or "second to the Torah." The fourteen volume work is a logical systematic codification of Jewish law.
Prior to Maimonides, in order to know Jewish law, one would have to learn the entire Talmud. And since the Talmud itself as at times indecisive, often incorporating conflicting opinions on Jewish law, it was necessary to then study the various commentaries, which clarified the final law. The famed Rabbi Yitzchak Alfasi, known as the Rif (the teacher of the aforementioned Ree Migash) was the first to codify applicable Jewish law—as a commentary to the Talmud.
The difficulty was, however, that the Talmudic rulings – as well as the aforementioned commentaries – were not organized in a strictly encyclopedic, logical fashion, making research extremely taxing. For example, in order to study the laws of Shabbat by exploring the Talmud, one needs to search through tens of tractates.
Maimonides was the first one to index the entire body of Oral Law – both Talmuds, the various halachic Midrashim, later works authored by the Geonim, and even kabbalistic texts – and compile it all in a logical and systematic fashion. The laws of Shabbat, for example, are all gathered in the third volume of Mishneh Torah (which is titled Zmanim, "Times," containing all laws pertaining to Shabbat and holidays) in thirty chapters, each divided into bite-sized sub-sections.
Maimonides codified the laws of Shabbat, holidays, prayer, dietary laws, and the laws that regulate the Jew's daily life. He also wrote a section on eating healthy, fitness, and mental health—teaching future learners that all our actions should be permeated with holiness and G‑dliness. "The health and wellbeing of the body," he writes, "is part of one's service of G‑d."
The Mishneh Torah also incorporates the basics of Jewish thought and belief.
Another unique component of the volumes is that they are not limited to laws that pertain to our day and age, which constitute only a small part of the 613 biblical commandments, but also include laws that will pertain to the Messianic era, such as the laws of tithing, the Jubilee Year, and the Temple service.
In this area, Maimonides was more than a trailblazer; to this very day the Mishneh Torah remains the only work of this scope. No other work – authored beforehand or afterwards – covers the entire corpus of Jewish law. (Even the commentaries on Jewish law authored before Maimonides omit the laws that were not germane at the time.)
Maimonides also placed great emphasis on making his works available and understandable to all Jews, scholars and laymen alike. He also omitted sources, for brevity's sake, though later scholars compiled sources for every statement in the Mishneh Torah. Because of his unique style and clarity, he became known as "The Golden Tongue."
Since Maimonides, many subsequent scholars have analyzed every word and even letter in his volumes. They discuss at length why Maimonides chose to include certain laws, wrote one law before another, and why he chose to include laws in one volume but not the other. Some have speculated that the body of commentary on Maimonides' volumes could reach the same quantity as Talmudic commentary.
Passing Maimonides passed away on the 20th of Tevet of the year 4965 (1204 C.E.) and was buried in the city of Tiberias in the Holy Land.
Daily Study of Maimonides' Works Main Article: Daily Study of Maimonides' Works
Cairo, Egypt: Celebration of the completion of the Rambam’s Mishneh Torah in his synagogue. In the spring of 1984, the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, of righteous memory, called for an innovative addition to the daily study schedule of every Jewish man, woman and child. He suggested that everyone study daily a portion of Maimonides' Mishneh Torah.
The Rebbe suggested a three-track system: three chapters daily, one chapter daily, or to study every day from the Sefer Hamitzvot. This suggestion was enthusiastically accepted by tens of thousands, bringing Maimonides' works to unparalleled prominence.
Today, Jews across the globe celebrate at the completion of the cycle every year.
Check out an amazing MP3 of one of my Rabbis from Chicago on the weekly Torah Portion at http://rzvi.headlinercreative.com/
by Riva Pomerantz
A small revolution began with a broken window.
In a rundown, rough-'n-tumble neighborhood in East Cleveland, a group of Orthodox Jews sporting beards and kippas stand out like sore thumbs. But every morning, they make their way downtown to their warehouse buildings, seemingly oblivious to their forlorn surroundings.
Shimon Weiner is one of these men. From his office on East 131 Street, he often sees people, mainly African-Americans, wandering aimlessly down deserted streets. Sometimes he catches a glimpse of the occasional fight, and every day without fail he sees swarms of children running to and from the public school around the corner.
It was at the end of a school day when the first window was broken. Shimon heard a loud crack as a perfectly aimed stoned found its mark. Hoots of laughter accompanied the shower of broken glass. When the window-breaking spiraled from a one-time incident to a favored leisure activity, Shimon decided he was not going to sit still.
When the next stone hit his window, Shimon hit the roof.
He raced down the stairs and collared the first kid he could. After exchanging a few choice words with the group of terrified youngsters, he finally let them off the hook with threats should there be a reoccurrence.
He was surprised when the next day began with a satisfying crrrack.
Shimon Weiner is not a small man. When he barreled down the street that morning, the kids began to quake. After expressing his rage, Shimon released his captives with the threat that if they ever threw another stone, they'd wish they had never been born.
Oy! Shimon said to himself, as he made his way back to the office calming himself down. What in the world have I done? Messing with inner city kids is not the wisest thing to do, and he felt the ramifications of his reaction sinking in fast. He dialed the school and asked to speak to the principal.
"A group of your kids are on their way to school and they're probably a little shaken up," he admitted sheepishly. "They've been breaking my windows and I really lost my cool." Then he added, "I want to think of a constructive way to stop their behavior."
The principal took the initiative to give Shimon's number to the parents of the offending students. It was not long before he received a call.
"Is this Mr. Weiner?"
"Yes," said Shimon, preparing to get lambasted for intimidating the children.
"I wanted to apologize for my son breaking your windows. I'm so sorry," said the voice on the other line.
Shimon was flabbergasted.
"Well," he said. "Why don't you and some of the other parents come down to my office? I have an idea how we might be able to stop these boys from damaging more windows."
A few hours later a group of parents joined Shimon in his downtown office for some cake and juice. Shimon explained his idea.
"I figure that if the kids and I could get to know each other a bit, they won't want to break my windows," he said simply.
Later that day, a small group of elementary school students walked into the offices of DryCast Inc. Shimon greeted them warmly, offered them some snacks, then paid them to do some light work in his warehouse. The meeting was a huge success. As they were leaving, Shimon told the kids, "You're always welcome to come to my office. Whether you need a bathroom, a drink or help, the door is always open. "
The next morning, Shimon had a bunch of kids knocking on his door eager to say good morning to 'Simon.'
Now they come often. Before school and after school they stop in to say hello and chat with Shimon and his partner Avraham. He asks them about their aspirations in life, about who their heroes are. Some of these children live in homes without father figures; many of them wake up each morning to face a difficult, uncertain world. With his gentle guidance and warmth, Shimon has become a source of hope to dozens of kids.
He is brainstorming on how to expand this kernel of success to help more inner-city kids realize their full potential.
As we anticipate Shavuot, the day on which we renew our commitment to God and His Torah, this story speaks volumes. Torah wasn't given to angels; it was given to imperfect human beings who are striving to bring spirituality into their day-to-day life. Shimon realized his mistake of acting in anger and wanted to repair the damage. He picked up the pieces of that broken glass and made it whole again.
Shimon's tiny revolution started with a broken window. Your next beautiful experience may be only a stone's throw away.
Author Biography:
Riva (Henig) Pomerantz lives with her husband and four children in Ramat Beit Shemesh. Her stories and articles appear on www.aish.com, in Mishpacha Magazine, and in several other publications. Her serialized story, Green Fences, will be released in Summer 2009, to be published by Targum Press. You can visit Riva's website and read her blog at www.rivapomerantz.com.
The next few weeks, I will posting R. Nathan Birnbaum's Confessions. A classic trivia question: Who was the first secretary general of the Zionist Movement and the Agudas Israel? Nathan Birnbaum. from Aishdas.org
On rare occasions men emerge in history whose lives mirror their entire age, all its ideals and errors, achievements and failures. Rarer still are those who are chosen, at the end of their pilgrimage through life, to rise above their world and to attain that ultimate wisdom which is above time and circumstance. Hence the greatness of Nathan Birnbaum, among the builders of modern Judaism.
Birnbaum helped create the major Jewish movements of our time, Zionism, Autonomism, Yiddishism. He gave to all of them of his profound humanity and understanding of life. But he passed from one to the other, a modern Odysseus in the search for truth, driven by his inexorably logical mind and incorruptible honesty, until he found his way home, to the simple yet sublime teachings of Jewish tradition. It was at the end of his road that he came to write Gottesvolk, his great manifesto to the Jewish people, of which Confession is a somewhat abridged translation. Today we see in it a deeply moving personal document –one of the great historical pieces of contemporary Jewish literature– and, above all, a message to the modern Jew, of vital significance for him.
Birnbaum was only nineteen years of age when he founded the first Jewish students' association, with a national program. That was in the Vienna of 1883, a full decade before Theodor Herzl appeared on the Jewish scene. In 1884, the first issue of Selbstemanzipation (Self-Emancipation) appeared, a journal of which Birnbaum was publisher, editor, bookkeeper, typist and office boy, all in one. Through heartbreaking toil he finally gained a hearing for his ideals, for the trumpet-call of a resurgent Jewish nationalism. In time, the rising wave of European anti-Semitism seemed to put victory within the grasp of the young Zionist movement: Palestine alone held out hope of peace for the Jew.
Yet, it was at this moment that Birnbaum broke with the political Zionism of Herzl. To him, the Jewish nation was not merely a group of people held together by a common enemy (Herzl's definition); and its survival could not be secured by political concessions in Palestine. The vitality of a people, Birnbaum felt, depended upon its culture; and upon this, Jewish nationalism had to be founded. He did not belittle the importance of Palestine, but he maintained that Jewish nationhood could be sustained in the diaspora too, in centers of Jewish settlement, enjoying cultural autonomy. Such a center he saw in Eastern European Jewry, as the truest representative of Jewish vitality, spirit, culture. Hence his efforts in behalf of the Yiddish world. Der Weg (The Way), founded in 1903, served as the mouthpiece of Autonomism. A few years later, Birnbaum called a conference of the outstanding Yiddish writers of the time, which marked the full emergence of a proud Yiddishism.
Once more, however, Birnbaum turned away from the ideal he himself had helped to launch. Jewish nationalism must be founded upon Jewish culture, he had recognized; and now, penetrating behind its manifold expressions, he came to realize that its innermost source was the religion of the Jew: his G-d-consciousness, expressing itself in the sanctification of life. That, Birnbaum felt, distinguished the Jew from the heathen; the good life in the Divine world from the brutality and self-seeking of paganism, ancient or modern. To Birnbaum, this discovery came as a sudden overwhelming experience, which forever changed the course of his life. It revealed to him the true meaning of world history: the struggle of divine goodness to conquer the heathen world; and he recognized the purpose of Jewish existence: to keep the divine light burning, to whose service the Jew had dedicated himself at the beginning of his history.
Thus Birnbaum rediscovered the teachings of Judaism, as they had been cherished, defended, and died for, through the ages. Thus, also, he declared war against the desecration of the divine world by modern paganism. But Gottesvolk, when it appeared in 1917, did not only present a challenge to the "heathen rebels"; it also addressed itself to the loyal Jews. Do they realize, Birnbaum asked, that Judaism is a revolutionary creed and program, aiming to make over our world? Do they keep before their eyes the messianic vision of a world prepared for the kingdom of G-d?
Birnbaum saw the most fundamental, and dangerous, aspects of the Jewish problem in the weakening of messianic fervor among the religious Jewish masses; and in the resulting threat of sterility, stagnation and death, Gottesvolk was written, above all, to bring home to the pious Jew the greatness of his messianic mission. A time has come, Birnbaum proclaimed, which demands a penitent return to our divine task: the sanctification of both individual and world . . . leading to final redemption. The tragic history of twentieth-century Jewry has led many others of our leaders to join in the impassioned call for "repentance and redemption" which Birnbaum issued in 1917.
His inspired insight into the problem of Jewish life also revealed itself in his insistence that the discharge of the Jewish task demands organized communal cooperation, in behalf of the spiritual interests and material position of the Jewish people. It was to this end, in fact, that the outstanding spiritual leaders of pious Jewry had organized Agudath Israel. Shortly after writing Gottesvolk Bimbaum joined Agudath Israel and became its General Secretary –a remarkable ending to his long political Odyssey.
There was a third point in the program which Birnbaum outlined in Gottesvolk: he felt that the survival of the various centers of Jewish settlement depended upon the isolation of Jewish communal life from the vices and aberrations of modern pagan life. Hence he called for the establishment of an order of Olim (Ascenders), living outside the big cities, devoted to agriculture and handicrafts, immersed in Jewish spirituality and preserving the distinctive Jewish language and attire. This project never came to fruition. The Jewish community in Eastern Europe, to which Birnbaum looked above all, was destroyed in terrible fashion. Today Jewish life is centered on Palestine and America; there is little prospect that the "community of the ascenders" will come into existence in these countries1 –and we may feel that Jewry may, in fact, survive in the modern world without the adoption of Birnbaum's project.
Yet Birnbaum's insistence upon the unbridgeable gulf between Judaism and modern paganism, and his call to arm ourselves against the pagan influences, are of immense significance for American and Palestinian Jewry, upon whom the burden of Jewish survival is now put. Birnbaum's challenge rings in our ears with an urgency greater than ever before. Wherever Providence has led the Jew, in Palestine or the diaspora, his fate is ultimately governed by the one supreme fact of his loyalty to the divine teachings of Judaism: "The righteous liveth by his faith."
from Revach.org
A Short Life Filled With Persecution In The Aftermath Of Shabsai Tzvi
After seeing the Mesilas Yesharim(Path of the Just), the Vilna Gaon said that if the Ramchal were still alive he would travel across Europe by foot to learn from him. Unfortunately the Ramchal, who lived a short life, filled with persecution and suspicion, was niftar when the Vilna gain was just 17 and the two never met.
Rav Moshe Chaim Luzzatto or commonly known as the Ramchal, was born in the Jewish ghetto in Padua, Italy in 5467/1707. The Ramchal was a talmid of Rav Yeshayahu Bassan one of the gedolim of Italy at the time. One of the Ramchal's close peers and student Rav Yekusiel Gordon wrote in a letter that the Ramchal knew the writings of the Arizal by heart and at the age of 15 he wrote his first sefer on Kabala.
The turning point in the Ramchal's life was at the age of 20 when a Magid started to appear to him to teach him the secrets of Kabbala. The Ramchal wrote down what he learned from the Magid and a group gathered around him, whom he taught Kabala. This being just over 50 years after the Shabsai Tzvi scandal rocked the Jewish world, the Rabbonim of Italy were quite upset at the situation, especially Rav Moshe Chagiz. The Ramchal was persecuted and threatened with being put into Cheirem.
After years of fighting the Ramchal's conceded not to write down the teachings of the Magid and things reached somewhat of a truce. However unhappy with his inability to write, in 1735 the Ramchal left Italy for good heading to the more liberal confines of Amsterdam and hoping to enjoy freedom from his persecutions and restrictions. Passing through Frankfurt, Germany on the way, the Ramchal hoped to gain a sympathetic ear from the Rabbonim there, only to be met with even fiercer hostility. He was forced to sign another concession that he would not learn Kabbala until the age of forty and never teach or write again.
Eventually he did find peace in Amsterdam and it was there that he wrote his classic work, Mesilas Yesharim, a fundamental sefer of the mussar movement that would flourish a hundred years later. Below its mussar veneer, the Mesilas Yesharim is said to contain much kabalistic insight. During his tenure in Amsterdam the Ramchal was appointed Rosh Yeshiva.
In 1743 at age of 36, the Ramchal set off with his family to Eretz Yisroel. Not much is known about the Ramchal's life in Eretz Yisroel other than that it was short lived. The Ramchal and his family perished in a plague in the year 1746 at the young age of 39, just three years after arriving to the shores of Eretz Yisroel.
The Ramchal left many seforim behind. It is said that to gain a glimpse of the Ramchal one must learn all his seforim, for a single sefer cannot tell the entire picture. Each sefer reveals another piece of the puzzle. While his generation was not zocheh to drink from his sweet waters, we who live 250 years after his death have a great appreciation although limited understanding, of the treasure that Hashem sent to this world. Yehi Zichro Boruch!
by Aaron Ross
A group of Israeli backpackers volunteer in Himalayan village schools.
50,000 Israeli go to India each year, looking for freedom after the army, a good time and spirituality in Eastern religions. In Bhagsu Village in Northern India, near Dharamasala, approximately 60% of the population is Israeli. Signs and menus in all shops are written in Hebrew, keyboards in Internet cafes have Hebrew letters and restaurant menus have hummus and Israeli salad on them. When not sitting around drinking chai and chatting, many enroll in yoga and meditation retreats, ayurvedic healing and massage courses and a whole range of different spiritual practices.
One man who understands what they are looking for is Bradley Cohen, a new Israeli immigrant who spent six years in the East, learning eastern spiritual traditions and martial arts. Two years ago he came to Israel, where he found the spiritual insight and Torah wisdom studying at Aish haTorah. He made aliyah last November. Last year in April he walked the entire length of Israel to raise money for orphanages in Africa and Israel, believing we must be a light unto the nations by working in tikkun olam - repairing the world.
His latest project saw him return to India and lead a group of 15 Israeli backpackers, between the ages of 20 and 27, into the foothills of the Himalayas to volunteer in local schools in the morning and learn about Jewish wisdom and spirituality in the afternoon and evenings. Cohen found all the volunteers 24 hours after putting up a Hebrew sign in the village of Bhagsu, an Israeli tourism hot spot located a half-hour away from Dharamsala.
"It is amazing that these people come all the way here to search for spirituality and 'the truth.' They, like me, were never introduced to the beauty of Judaism and don't think to look to it for answers to their life questions. It was sad for me to see that so many people have had negative experiences of Judaism and bad interactions with religious Jews. I think they found it refreshing to be able to ask all their questions to someone with a kippah and tzitzit, but who could also relate to where they were coming from."
The course lasted for eight days, in which the group walked into the mountains to four village schools, an average of an hour apart by foot. They cooked for themselves as a group, surviving often on just rice and vegetables, sleeping on the floor of the schools, making fire, showering in the river -- a real experience of Indian village life. The group, sponsored by the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, provided over 200 children with notebooks, pens, sports and music equipment, English and Hindi story books, wall charts and posters, pressure cookers and other equipment much needed by the schools. They ran creative art workshops, English lessons, music and exercise classes and in general gave the kids a great time and long lasting memories. In the afternoon and evening Cohen taught Jewish meditation, gave classes on Jewish topics, as well as answering any questions the group had about Judaism.
The volunteers themselves were varied in their level of Jewish observance and often had long discussions about how to bridge the religious gaps in Israel. "One of the best things was seeing the religious and non-religious working together and respecting each other, and discussing important issues in the evening, getting rid of preconceived ideas and prejudices," said Cohen.
The program also greatly improved the reputation of Israeli travellers amongst the locals, proving that Israelis want to reach out and help, rather than just take and exploit the country.
"As a nation we have a duty to do tikkun olam and be a light unto nations, a duty which we succeeded in on this trip. It was a huge Kiddush Hashem."
The next Be a Kli trip is planned for September. Anyone interested should visit www.allforthekids.org.
This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/jewishissues/israeldiary/Be_A_Light.asp
By Naftali Silberberg
Generally, we use our verbal skills to communicate our needs to others, or to respond to others' needs. There is usually a utilitarian goal in mind -- a piece of information we wish to hear, or a request we would like to convey.
But these conversations, as important as they may be, do not do justice to the true power of speech. Speaking serves another, much more potent purpose when the conversation itself, and the connection it creates between people, is the objective. Friends will pick up a phone and call each other simply to keep in touch. The topics discussed are not as significant as the conversation itself Children call their parents, sometimes for a purpose (financial requests are high on the list of "purposes") -- but usually the point of the conversation is just to touch base. A couple newly in love will spend endless hours talking about nothing, anything, and everything. With the advent of Instant Messaging, these conversations often continue through the workday as well (much to the consternation of many an employer). And just as the chat seems to be coming to an end, one of the parties will invariably find yet another "pressing" topic to discuss. Neither wishes to break the bond created by the conversation; neither wants to say "good bye."
Here we have a classic case of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts: the topics discussed are not as significant as the conversation itself.
The above also applies to our daily "conversations" with G‑d -- a.k.a. "prayer". Prayer comes naturally when a person, G‑d forbid, experiences hardships. But passionate prayer when all is (relatively) well is, in a certain sense, a far more meaningful experience. Because our conversations with G‑d serve a dual purpose: they are an opportunity to beseech our Provider for health, prosperity and nachas from our children; but more importantly, they are also moments when we connect with our beloved Father in Heaven. Indeed, to a certain extent, the content of our prayers is less significant than the experience itself--an opportunity to connect with G‑d.
You have His attention; speak as long as you wish! The great sage Rabbi Yochanan summed it up with these words: "If only a person could pray all day long!" from Chabad.org
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