Akiva Society

by Rabbi Noah Weinberg ztl (My Rebbe)

The key to happiness is to appreciate what you have. If it's so simple, why are so many people unhappy?



A young man with an unusually happy disposition once came to meet me in Jerusalem. I asked him, "What's your secret?"

He told me, "When I was 11 years old, God gave me a gift of happiness. I was riding my bicycle when a strong gust of wind blew me onto the ground into the path of an oncoming truck. The truck ran over me and cut off my leg.

"As I lay there bleeding, I realized that I might have to live the rest of my life without a leg. How depressing! But then I realized that being depressed won't get my leg back. So I decided right then and there not to waste my life despairing.

"When my parents arrived at the hospital they were shocked and grieving. I told them, 'I've already adapted. Now you also have to get used to this.'

"Ever since then, I see my friends getting upset over little things: their bus came late, they got a bad grade on a test, somebody insulted them. But I just enjoy life."

At age 11, this young man attained the clarity that it is a waste of energy to focus on what you are missing, and that the key to happiness is to take pleasure in what you have. Sounds simple, doesn't it? So why are so many people unhappy?

Happiness Is a State of Mind

People often think happiness is based on what you achieve and acquire. My whole life would improve if I had a new car...
I just need a better job and then I can relax and be happy...
If only I met the right girl...

You get the car and what happens? For a whole week you're walking on air. Then you go right back to being unhappy.

 

Happiness comes from mastering the art of appreciating.  

Happiness is not a happening; it's a state of mind. You can have everything in the world and still be miserable. Or you can have relatively little and feel unbounded joy.

As the Talmud says, "Who is rich? The one who appreciates what he has" (Ethics of the Fathers, 4:1).

That's why the morning prayers begin with a series of blessings thanking God for the simple and obvious:

Thank you, God, for giving me life Thank God I can see, that I can use my hands and feet, that I can think.

Happiness comes from mastering the art of appreciating and consciously enjoying what you already have.

On the Ledge

Imagine you are standing on the 70th floor of the Empire State Building, gazing at the cityscape. Suddenly a rather large man brusquely pushes past you, wrenches the window open and announces his intention to jump.

You yell out, "Stop! Don't do it!"

The six-foot-five figure turns to you and menacingly says, "Try to stop me and I'll take you with me!"

"Umm... No problem, sir. Have a safe trip. Any last words?"

"Let me tell you my troubles," he says. "My wife left me, my kids won't talk to me, I lost my job and my pet turtle died. So why should I go on living?"

Suddenly you have a flash of inspiration.

"Sir, close your eyes for a minute and imagine that you are blind. No colors, no sights of children playing, no fields of flowers, no sunset. Now imagine that suddenly there's a miracle. You open your eyes and your vision is restored! Are you going to jump? Or will you stick around for a week to enjoy the sights?"

"I'll stay for a week."

"But what happened to all the troubles?"

"I guess they're not so bad. I can see!"

"Well your eyesight is worth at least five million dollars. You're a rich man!"

"Your eyesight is worth at least five million dollars. You're a rich man!"  

If you really appreciate your eyesight, the other pains are insignificant. But if you take it all for granted, then nothing in life will ever truly give you joy.

Misconceptions on the Road to Happiness

Misconception #1: "Once I know the tools for being happy, then it will work like magic."

Don't expect the results to come automatically. It is possible to understand how to attain happiness, yet not put it into practice. In fact, many people actually prefer to be comfortable and unhappy, rather than endure the discomfort of changing their habits.

Just as learning any new skill requires effort, you have to be willing to invest serious effort to achieve real happiness.

Misconception #2: "If I become content and satisfied with what I have, I'll lose my motivation to achieve more."

Happiness doesn't drain your energy. It adds more!

Ask a happy person: "I have a boat. Do you want to go fishing?"

"Great! Let's go!"

Now ask someone who is depressed, "C'mon, let's go fishing!"

"I'm tired. Maybe tomorrow. And anyway, it might rain..."

Happy people are energetic and ambitious. There's never enough time to do everything they want to do.

Misconception #3: If I want to be depressed, that's my own prerogative.

A beautiful Sunday afternoon. You're in the park having a picnic with friends. Suddenly the air is pierced by one person complaining: "Who forgot the forks? It's too hot for volleyball. I want to go home already."

When our mood negatively affects others, we recognize we have an obligation to be happy and not spoil the fun. That's why we try to put on a happy face when we're at a party.

But what about when we're at home with our spouse and kids? Or when we trudge into the office on Monday morning?

Like an open pit in the middle of the road, a sourpuss is a public menace. Being happy is part of being considerate to the people around us.

Happiness Exercises

These exercises will increase your gratitude and help you build a solid foundation for a lifetime of happiness:

a. The Daily Pleasure Count

To increase your appreciation of life, pinpoint some things you are extremely grateful for and count them every morning for one month, e.g.: your eyes, your hands, your children, your cat.

Set aside a few minutes each day to contemplate these pleasures and feel gratitude for them.

To really drive this home, sit down with your spouse or friend every evening and discuss one pleasure that each of you had that day. At the very least, you'll have a happier spouse or roommate! You can incorporate this into your family routine so that your children will also learn to appreciate their daily pleasures.

b. One-Hour Blessing-Fest

The next exercise is more challenging.

Spend one hour writing down everything for which you are grateful.

Most people fly through the first 15 minutes. The next 15 minutes the pen moves more slowly. The next 15 minutes get even tougher, but you can pull through if you include your eyebrows and socks...

The last 15 minutes are excruciating.

Once the list is compiled, add one new blessing each day.

The power of this exercise is clear: You must be conscious of all your blessings in order to appreciate whatever new blessings come your way.

c. Prioritize Your Blessings

To become a real expert at appreciation, prioritize your list. Which is more valuable: your hands or your feet? Eyes or ears? Sense of taste or your sense of touch?

Comparing pleasures forces you to articulate the subtle aspects of each one.

 



This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/rebNoach/t/48968901.html

by Mark Halawa
My Muslim background left me unprepared for this shocking discovery.

Growing up in Kuwait, I had the best of everything. My father owned a successful construction company, and provided us five children with amenities like piano lessons, swimming, calligraphy and trips all over the world. Although we were Muslims like everyone else, we were totally secular and my father always aimed to shield us from religious people whom he described as crazies.

I grew up being told that Israelis and Jews were the lowest type of creature in existence, put on Earth only to kill us Arabs. In math class the teacher would say, “If one rocket killed X number of Jews, how many would six rockets kill?”

My father was rabidly anti-Israel. He was a product of Nasser's school of thought: secular from a Muslim point of view, yet deeply dedicated to the idea of pan-Arab unity. Israel, he believed, was an American proxy in the post-colonial Middle East.

My father was a supporter of the PLO since the 1960s when Yasser Arafat (who founded the PLO while living in Kuwait) was raising money from wealthy Palestinians working in Gulf States. As an engineer, my father participated in a program where the engineering association in Kuwait would deduct money from his monthly salary to be sent directly to the PLO. He insisted that war and resistance was the only way to deal with Israel.

In the summer of 1990, when I was 12 years old, our lives changed completely. We were on vacation when Saddam Hussein invaded and annexed Kuwait. My father's business -- along with much of the country -- was ravaged. Our savings became worthless pieces of paper. We could not go back to Kuwait, so we immigrated to Canada. My father did manage to sneak back in for a few days to retrieve important business documents that would later be useful in recovering compensation from a United Nations fund.

Praying in the Dark

Of my family, I’m the only one who stayed in Canada. My father never really adjusted to life in the New World, and he had good business contacts back in Jordan, so my parents returned there. All my siblings also moved back to the Middle East. One brother runs a successful company in Jordan, two brothers are studying in Egypt (one dentistry and the other business), and my sister lives in Dubai where she works in the banking industry.

One evening in 2003, I was studying at the university library in London, Ontario, when I happened to notice an older man. From his chassidic garb, he looked like a religious Jew. My curiosity was aroused, so I approached him and asked, "Are you Jewish?"

With a gentle smile on his face, he said, "No, but I like to dress this way." I didn't know whether he was joking or not. All the religious people I had come across in the past were pretty scary. Are Jews supposed to be funny?

His name was Dr. Yitzhak Block, a retired professor of philosophy. We exchanged a few words and then he asked about my background. My family history is pretty complex, and I get a headache every time I have to explain it all. So I simply told him that I'm an Arab from Kuwait, and mentioned that my grandmother from my mother’s side is Jewish.

My mother’s parents met in Jerusalem when my grandfather, an Arab from the West Bank, was serving in the Jordanian army fighting the Zionists. He was 18 years old and my grandmother was 16. Her father ran a school in Jerusalem -- the same school where she would jump off the wall to meet my handsome, uniformed grandfather. They fell in love, got married, and lived for a number of years in Shechem (Nablus).

After my grandfather was discharged from the Jordanian army, the family moved to Kuwait, where oil profits were fueling huge business and construction projects. That’s where my mother met my father and got married.



Knowing about my grandmother’s Jewish background always made me curious about Jews. Whenever we were on vacation in Amman, Jordan, I used to constantly watch the Israeli channel -- when my parents weren't around. My favorite was the Israeli national anthem, and I would stay up late waiting to hear them play it at the end of the TV transmission.

Standing there in the university library, this religious Jew, Dr. Block, looked at me and said, “In Muslim law, you’re considered Muslim, since the religion goes by the father. But according to Jewish law, you’re Jewish, since Jewish identity is transmitted by the mother.”

My head started to spin and memories of my childhood in Kuwait began to surface. I recalled how my grandmother had a funny name on her documents, Mizrachi, which I never heard before. She also had a small prayer book with Hebrew letters, and she prayed in the dark crying. (I thought the Wailing Wall was so named because crying was a part of prayer.)

Aside from a vague family legend, my grandmother never mentioned anything about being Jewish -- but now the pieces were fitting into place. I thanked Dr. Block for the conversation, and ran home to tell my roommate what I heard. He smiled and said, “So you're a Mus-Jew!” I was not amused.

I went to my room and called my mother. She rebuffed the story, saying, "Don't listen to people like that. We are Muslims and that's that."

I decided to call my grandmother myself and bring up the subject.

I beat around the bush a bit -- after all, she’d been denying it for the past 50 years -- and then finally blurted out, “Grandma, are you Jewish?”

She didn’t answer the question directly, but she started crying and spoke about the years of Arab-Israeli conflict. She told me how her brother Zaki had been killed in Jerusalem before the rebirth of the State. To me that was sufficient confirmation of her Jewishness and I decided to leave it at that.

Over the next few months, I avoided the whole issue of Judaism, mainly for the sake of not upsetting my mother. Besides, I was just finishing university, and career was my main priority. I was content with telling myself that I belonged to a mixed-faith family.

Streaming Tears

About a year later, I was rollerblading one day in my neighborhood when I took a hard fall and badly sprained my wrist. The road was smooth so I couldn't figure out why I had fallen. I couldn’t stop thinking that it seemed like a push from Above. These thoughts caught me by surprise, since I wasn't into spirituality and I never had any religious connection. I was a bodybuilder, had tons of friends, and was on the heels of a successful career as a foreign exchange trader. So why had this happened?

Because my wrist was heavily bandaged, I was forced to take off work for a few days. Dr. Block had mentioned the name of his synagogue, so that Saturday morning, I decided to go check out the scene. I was hesitant at the thought of everyone being from European background and me the only Middle Easterner, but I decided to go anyway.

I called a cab and got dropped off at the synagogue. As I walked in, the first person I saw looked Indian. He shook my hand, said “Shabbat Shalom,” and handed me a kippah. Then I saw a black man which really surprised me. And Dr. Block was there, too.

I was handed a prayer book, shown the proper page, and before I knew it everyone was singing, V'Shamru:

"And the Children of Israel shall keep the Sabbath, to make the Sabbath an eternal covenant for their generations. Between Me and the Children of Israel, it is a sign forever that in six days God made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day He rested and was refreshed."

Something hit me and I felt as though I knew this song. I just stood there taking in the sounds, the smells and the sights. Everything felt whole and perfect. It was the opposite of everything I'd ever heard about Jews or Judaism. At this point my tears were streaming in freefall.

It was the opposite of everything I'd heard about Jews. After the services finished, I met everyone over Kiddush. I spoke with an Egyptian couple and we shared our personal stories. Jews from all backgrounds were gathered together and I was another piece of this puzzle.

After Kiddush, I accepted Dr. Block’s invitation to join him for lunch. I told him: “I can’t believe I'm here, singing and praying in Hebrew. I could never have imagined it.”

He smiled and said, "It's not so hard to believe. Every Jew is born with a little Torah and a little Menorah inside.” He then pressed his shoulder up against mine and said, “All it takes is for another Jew to bump into him and light it up."

Dreams of Peace

My interest grew from there, and I began studying Torah and keeping Shabbat. Last year I spent a month in Israel touring and studying on Aish HaTorah’s Jerusalem Fellowships program. It was a great “homecoming.”

I still keep in close contact with my family and old friends. They’re wonderful people and I love them very much. Yet it’s hard to relate to them on many levels. In the Arab world there are tons of misconceptions and misinformation regarding Israel. So I am working to develop a program to educate Arabs about Jews and Judaism, to dissolve the stereotypes propagated by the Muslim media and schools. I hope that my unique background can help bridge some of that divide.

Another way I hope to achieve this is to help establish economic relations between Israel and Arab countries. That would create trust and shared experience, which could be directed toward the goal of a genuine and lasting peace.

Another issue I’m trying to address is how the Arab world is filled with Holocaust denial. This past summer I went to Auschwitz, and I am working to produce the first-ever Arabic documentary about the Holocaust. I want to explain to Muslims in their own language exactly what happened.

It often seems like the Arab-Israeli conflict is intractable. Yet I believe in today’s world, there is a real opportunity for a breakthrough. Arabs today have a more universal education, which makes them more open and curious. Also they are meeting Israelis and Jews in their travels around the world, which breaks down misconceptions. And as we saw during the recent protests in Iran, many young people in the Muslim world are yearning for reform. On top of all this, they have high-speed Internet access which opens up all kinds of new avenues of communication, and the possibility of forming new friendships unrestricted by borders or political agendas. Perhaps this can be the basis of a grassroots movement to mend relations and hopefully one day achieve peace.

My Jewish cousins are all living as Muslims in the Middle East. The other issue that needs urgent attention is intermarriage in Israel. Unfortunately, a story like my grandmother's is not so rare. Many young Jewish women are wooed by Arab men and brought back to live in their villages. The children and grandchildren are never told the truth, especially with political tensions and the emotional unrest this would cause a family. As a result, many Jews are lost to our people. My mother has five sisters, and from there I have a few dozen cousins who are all Jewish -- all living as Muslims in the Middle East. I recently met a seventh-generation Israeli, whose cousin married a Palestinian and went to live in Saudi Arabia; her descendents are Jews living in Saudi Arabia.

All my relatives know that I’m practicing Judaism, and for the most part they’re accepting. I can talk to them about Judaism and they’re politely interested. We love and respect each other. My father is resistant, however, given that secularism and war against Israel are the two ideological pillars of his life. When I first became interested in Judaism, I didn’t tell him straight out. We were having a political discussion and I mentioned that I support the State of Israel. That ignited a big clash and I’ve learned to only discuss these matters with him in an indirect way. I always know when I’ve crossed the line; he gets angry and calls me a “Zionist.”

The other big exception -- not surprisingly -- is my grandmother. I’ve asked her a number of times for more information about her family background, but she refuses to talk about it. Maybe one day I will find the key to opening her up.

Growing up, I was taught that Jews were the source of all evil, descended from monkeys and pigs. On the other hand, I had the image of my grandmother holding her small prayer book with the Hebrew letters, praying with tender devotion. She is the sweetest person I know and there's no way she came from a bloodthirsty gang of murderers. She gave me a Jewish soul, and in her own way, it was she who kept my Jewish spark alive.

This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/sp/so/70138567.html

By Tuvia Bolton
During the closing days of Israel's 1982 "Peace in Galilee" campaign in Lebanon, I was one of a group of ten Chabad Chassidim who got permission from the army to enter Beirut to cheer up the soldiers.

The soldiers welcomed us as though we were announcing the end of the war. The entire night we went from group to group, singing, dancing, talking, laughing, and of course making L'Chaims.

There was no time to sleep. At the crack of dawn we got our tefillin out of our bags and began asking soldiers if they wanted to do a mitzvah and put them on for a minute.

At that hour of the morning most of the soldiers were still asleep. I walked around looking for "customers" and happened upon a line of about ten open jeeps with two soldiers seated in each. Their motors were running and they were waiting in the chilly morning to go out on a mission. It must have been some sort of combat foray, because they were armed to the teeth and were wearing bulky bulletproof vests and steel helmets.

I approached the first jeep and asked them if they wanted to put on tefillin and one soldier agreed. When he finished, I moved on to the next one and asked the driver the same question, but was in for an unpleasant surprise.

He just listened, looking straight ahead, and didn't even react to my question. So I just stood there and waited for a reply. After a few seconds of silence, he turned to me and said (loose translation): "Get out of my sight, you parasite religious scum! If you don't get out of my face I'll tear you to pieces! I hate you vermin!"

I understood that the answer was no. I tried to force a smile and figure out something to say, when suddenly the driver of the next jeep in line called out to me in a desperate tone of voice: "Rabbi, Rabbi! Come here. I want to put on tefillin." I turned, happy to get away, and began to walk toward the third jeep in the line. "Tell me Rabbi," he called nervously after I had taken a few steps and was still quite a distance from him. "If... if I put on tefillin will G-d protect me?"

It was obvious that the man was very worried. Yesterday he was probably sitting in his hardware store selling pipes and tools when they called him up to reserve duty, and suddenly here he was about to enter the front lines.

"Listen, my friend," I assured him, "G-d will protect you whether you put on the tefillin or not. Don't worry. He loves you because you are a Jew. But if G-d protects you for free, so why not do something for Him for free, and put on tefillin?"

It seems that the soldier in the second jeep -- the one that had cursed me out -- had heard all this, because when I finished putting on the tefillin on this soldier he called out, "Hey Rabbi! Come over here!"

I turned around to see him rolling up his sleeve like he wanted to put on the tefillin and motioning me to come over.

I took a few steps towards him. "What do you want? What happened?"

"Listen!" he replied "What do you care? I want to put on the tefillin, too."

I gave him a look and an Israeli hand motion as if to say, "Are you for real?" And he replied:

"Listen, my friend. To put on tefillin in order to go to heaven or to be religious, that's not for me. But to put on tefillin for no reason... That I'm willing to do!"

This is the essence of the Jewish soul in action. A Jew may reject all reasons, all explanations, including mystical explanations, for doing a mitzvah, but will embrace the deed itself. Because a Jew inherently wants to do what G-d wants; s/he is one with G-d not only spiritually, but also -- and even more so -- through his or her everyday physical life.

Editor's Note: G-d, our loving Father, watches and protects all His children. That said, our Sages clearly state that wearing Tefillin offers a great measure of added protection against enemies. This is not only true for the soldier who puts on Tefillin, but for any Jew anywhere in the world who fulfills the mitzvah of Tefillin--he is adding to the collective protection of the Jewish nation.

from Chabad.org
By Tuvia Bolton   More articles...  |    A popular teacher, musician and storyteller, Rabbi Tuvia Bolton is co-director and a senior lecturer at Yeshiva Ohr Tmimim in Kfar Chabad, Israel

By: Alice Jonsson   The Seven Noahide Commandments, Part 1

Breslev Israel is happy to present our readers with a week by week basic introduction to the Seven Universal Commandments. The emphasis will be in explaining these laws in a clear way so that non-Jews new to Judaism and to Torah will have an easier time navigating the complexities of taking on a new (yet extremely old) way of living given by our Creator to all of the nations of the world. In Judaism, there is no demand that a non-Jew convert in order to connect with his or her Creator, to make the world the best place it can be, and to live a moral, enriching, tranquil, and joyous existence. In fact, there is a special path for Gentiles.    The Noahide laws, sometimes called the Seven Universal Commandments or the Seven Mitzvot Bnei Noach (The Seven Commandments of the Children of Noah) are derived from Chapter 9 of Genesis, part of the five books of Moses, which are part of the larger Torah. The Torah is not just the Five Books of Moses. In fact the Torah is not just one book. In the most expansive definition, it is the Five Books of Moses, the Bible (such as Psalms and Proverbs), Oral Torah (the Talmud, made up of the Gemara and the Mishna),  Midrashim, various responsa (fleshed-out analysis of Bible law), and the Zohar.        The Seven Universal Laws are:   1. Not to engage in idol worship.  2. Not to blaspheme.  3. Not to murder.  4. Not to steal  5. Not to engage in illicit sexual behavior.  6. To establish courts of justice.  7. Not to eat the limb of a living animal.    Six of these laws have existed and were known since the time of Adam and Eve, but the seventh regarding proper treatment of animals was given after the flood to Noach and his family, who were chosen to repopulate the earth, much like Adam and Eve. They are basic laws, some see them as categories, that are for all of the people of the earth, after all, we all descend from Noach and his family to whom they were given. Until the Jews received the Torah at Sinai, they too followed these laws. If we non-Jews (or Gentiles) follow these laws, there is a place for us in Olam Haba, or the World to Come. However it is crucial to understand and embrace the fact that the emphasis in Judaism is not on the next world, but on living correctly in this one. Following the Seven Universal Commandments connects us with the Creator here and now, thus enormously enriching our lives and the lives of those around us, and the world we live in. It also makes us partners with Jews in repairing the world, but in a way that was especially designated for Gentiles.     Following the Seven Universal Commandments connects us with the Creator here and now...      The Torah requires that Jews follow 613 mitzvot, or commandments. From a Torah perspective, the job of a Jew is different than that of a Gentile. To put it in very simple terms, to do our job as non-Jews we really only need to follow the six commandments given to Adam and Eve and the seventh given to Noach and his family. Within Orthodoxy there are varying opinions about the degree to which Gentiles should go beyond the Seven Universal Commandments. This can be very confusing for Bnei Noach, Gentiles who commit to living by the Seven Universal Commandments. Some rabbis emphatically state that Gentiles should not go at all beyond a limited interpretation of the Seven Laws. On the other extreme there are rabbis who argue that Bnei Noach can live by other laws in the Torah, in certain ways and under certain circumstances. It is best for a Ben or Bat Noach, a son or daughter of Noach, to get his or her own rabbi and to proceed carefully under his guidance. Simply believing in the truth of Torah does not make you or me a Jew. For a non-Jew to become a Jew, he or she must convert to Judaism. Until then we are Gentiles and should live in a manner appropriate for us. You need not convert from your old way of living, whatever that was, to become a Ben or Bat Noach. You are one simply by accepting the Seven the Laws and embarking on a life guided by them.      Some Bnei Noach may choose to live a rigorous religious life, learning a great deal of Torah in a manner that is appropriate to non-Jews, committing significant time to prayer, working closely with rabbis, honoring the Sabbath in a manner appropriate for Gentiles, and celebrating some Jewish holidays, again in a manner appropriate for Bnei Noach. These people may choose to build fellowship with the Jewish community, participate in the development of burgeoning Bnei Noach communities and institutions, learn Hebrew, etc. Unlike many religions, there is no obligation for believing Gentiles to attend a house of worship and we do not have religious ceremonies per se. The more rigorous path can be enormously enriching, but is not without pronounced challenges. Many rabbis have never focused a great deal on the Seven Universal Commandments in their training, thus making it difficult for them to conscientiously guide us. Finding community can be very tough given our small numbers. And how we might fit in with Jewish communities in an appropriate manner is really yet to be determined. To put it in more direct terms, a Ben or Bat Noach can be seen as a real can of worms to an already over extended Orthodox rabbi, and I say that with all due respect.       Other Bnei Noach may choose to live a more simple religious life. They use the Seven Universal Commandments as a basic framework for living an upright life. They use simple prayer in their own words to connect with God, to stay grounded, to enjoy the immense beauty of the world that God created for us. This is also a wonderful and totally valid existence for the Gentile. There is no obligation for us to live the complex religious life of an Orthodox Jew to please our Creator. At this point in time, this is a much easier approach to living by the Seven Laws given that the numbers of Bnei Noach are extremely small and dispersed all over the globe and given the complexities from an Orthodox perspective of Jews and Bnei Noach living in close community with one another.
from Breslov.co.il