Akiva Society

Rav Isaac Sher - Getting Drunk On Purim

"Chayav Inish Livisumei" (Megila 7b).  It is incumbent on a person to get drunk on Purim.  The gemara tells us that Raba and Rav Zeira had a Purim seudah and they both got so drunk that Raba slaughtered Rav Zeira.  Only through Raba's tefila did Rav Zeira come back to life.  What is this all about?  We find over and over in the Torah the troubles that come from drinking.  It started with Noach, Lot, Ba'al Pi'or, and the Sotah.  Becoming intoxicated is not a Jewish thing!

Rav Isaac Sher answers that we must look into the Avodah of Purim.  The gemara (Shabbos 88a) tells us that on Purim we rectified our aveira and were Mikabel the Torah with our own free will.  Which aveira?  Rebbi Shimon explained to his talmidim that the reason why Haman was able to destroy the Yehudim was because they bowed down to Nevuchadnetzar's idol.  Although it wasn't a real Avodah Zara only a statue in honor of the king,  and although the Yehudim only put on a charade for the outside world and did not mean it, still they should have been Moser Nefesh like Chananya, Mishael, and Azarya.  Only after the complete tshuva upon hearing Haman's decree,  did they rectify this small gap in their commitment to Hashem, and were then saved.  After the great Nes of Purim they were Mikabel the Torah with genuine 100% unforced commitment.

On every Purim, says Rav Isaac Sher, we must relive this feeling and renew our commitment to Hashem and do complete tshuva.  We must show our willingness to be Moser Nefesh and die Al Kiddush Hashem even when it is technically not required.  To this end the gemara in Sanhedrin (43a) says that before Bais Din executes someone who is Chayav Misa they intoxicate him wine so that he oblivious to the horrible scene and the pain of the execution.

Therefore on Purim when we get intoxicated we are supposed imagine that we are giving our lives Al Kiddush Hashem.  The wine is our last drink to dull the pain.  This is what Rabba and Rav Zeira did only they got a little carried away in their acting and Raba actually carried out the execution and killed Rav Zeira, until he restored his life through tefila.  So if you are going to drink, don't forget your script and why you are drinking... and please stop before the grand finale!

from Revach.net

By: David Fink
from Breslov.co.il
 Does “satisfying Hashem” in doing what we feel He requires from us every day give us a license to do whatever we want once those requirements are met?

There are some very nasty habits we Jews have acquired throughout our sojourn in the nations of Edom (the Western world). We have all, to a degree, taken on their general concept of separation of church and state. We don’t simply champion the legal points; we internalize this principle into our everyday lives. We have taken the legal concept of Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion and expanded it to divide ourselves into two separate and distinct lifestyles: our religious lifestyle, and our personal lifestyle.   In separating religion from everything else we do in our daily lives, we limit Hashem to only certain designated areas.

Mitzvot are restricted to those times we are in Shul davening, or at home learning. As a Modern Orthodox Jew, I have noticed that there is a horrible unspoken acceptance that if we are following a specific regimen of mitzvoth, those moments of when we are not actively involved in their performance –anything goes. BaBoker Tefilla, BaErev Tequila (loosely translated: in the morning we pray, in the evening we play.)   Where does this come from? How could someone who recognizes that each mitzvah is a directive given to every Jew by the Creator of the world denigrate to feeling as though he has absolute permission to spend his free time in any which way he pleases?

  I believe this comes from the Religious Coma. This is a term coined by Rabbi Ben-Tzion Shaffer of theshmuz.com. It means that many of us do everything by rote. We have been performing mitzvoth in the same mechanical process that a computer runs a program. There is no life in our service of Hashem. We are not spiritual beings, but robots fulfilling a function. We don’t do mitzvoth to connect, we just complete them to get it over with. A religious coma is like a religion without G-d.   Of all the sins to perform when we are “off the clock” of doing mitzvoth, sexual sins are the worst. Sexual sins actively desensitize our neshamot to spirituality. We literally become numb to Hashem and His presence in everything around and within us. This feeds a horrible cycle of staying in a religious coma.

It reinforces the feeling that there is no physical or spiritual impact to anything special that we do. Torah becomes more of an intellectual strain and less of an exercise in the spirit. Mitzvoth are just something that we gotta do to keep Hashem satisfied until happy hour.   People can go years, decades, even their whole entire lives this way.   How do you think American Jewry is killing itself?   How did we get from an American Jewish community that was 65% observant in 1909 to a community with less than 20% observant today? It wasn’t the secular Jews that moved from the Pale of Settlement, it was the fully observant.

What happened? When we got to Ellis Island, we kept our faith, but took on the concept of limiting it to certain areas. We locked Hashem in the Shul while we spent our days in the office. The physical mitzvot were there, but the energy behind them was not. The service of Hashem was transmitted to the next generation, but the love of Hashem was not.   For the freest, richest, most powerful Jewish Diaspora community ever, the religious coma lasted for longer than a single lifetime. It spanned many generations until it put us on life support. One generation saw a religion of duty, but no energy or joy. The next generation didn’t even see a religion of obligation, just a waste of time. The generation after that started hanging up Christmas trees.  

How do we stop this? How do we wake up from our coma?   To rescue our nation, along with ourselves, we need to revisit the pussuk, “I have placed Hashem before me always.” (Psalm 16:8)   That sounds nice, but how do we do this in practical terms?   The answer lies in taking on life-transforming mitzvoth. We have to choose to observe one mitzvah that we have to cling to at every moment. Shmirat haLoshon is such a mitzvah. Watching what we say about others is something we have to be constantly thinking of – always. Shmirat HaBrit is another. To dedicate our limbs, eyes, and mind to Hashem by personally keeping them away from lustful impulses brings us a deep awareness of Who we stand before at all times.

Shmirat Emunah is a great opportunity to find the joy in all of the struggles we endure every day.   Whether in Shul, at the office, watching a ballgame, or having dinner with our family, we will be constantly aware that there is a code of behavior we must always follow. In doing so, we gradually internalize into our heart that Hashem is watching over us at every moment. We are “on the clock” at all times. This will resensitize us to our G-dly side and awaken us from our spiritual lethargy.   To a Jew – there is no separation between religion and state. In placing Hashem before us always, we are always connected to Hashem! This transforms us into higher beings, and elevates us in everything that we do.

Our prayers will feel more powerful, our mitzvoth will be invested with more energy, and the ups and downs in our daily life will feel less random and more a part of a Divinely strategy to improve our relationship with our True Guardian in heaven.   The very act of living becomes more gratifying.   

 (David Fink lives in Efrat with his wife and son.

Question:

Joseph married Osnat and had two children in Egypt before his family came down to join him. Was she Egyptian?

Response:

We read in Genesis 41:45 that Pharaoh gave Joseph Osnat daughter of Potiphera, priest of On, to be his wife. From the various midrashim, a wondrous story emerges:

You see, when Shechem abducted Dinah, she became pregnant with his child. Her father, Jacob, saw that his family was deeply ashamed of his new granddaughter. The little girl was banished from the camp and placed under a thorn bush. They called her Osnat, a derivative of sneh, the Hebrew word for thorn bush.

Jacob brought a golden plate with a holy name inscribed upon it and hung it on her neck. In other accounts, it is stated that he wrote, "Whoever meets you, meets the seed of Jacob." And he sent her away.

As all is revealed before the Holy One blessed be He, Archangel Michael descended and took her down to Egypt, the home of Potiphera, for Osnat was fitting to be Joseph's wife. Potiphera's wife was barren, and she reared Osnat like a daughter.

When Joseph took charge of Egypt, all the maidens were taken by his extraordinary beauty and threw jewelry and other objects at him in, trying to gain his favor. Osnat had nothing to throw, except the golden plate bearing the inscription that her grandfather had made her. When Joseph saw what was written on it, he knew that she was his kin, and immediately married her.

Other midrashim, however, describe her as a righteous convert, on par with Hagar, Ruth and Rahab.

from Chabad.org
by Rabbi Menachem Posner

by Rabbi Noah Weinberg
When the media hits you with another message, don't take the idea for granted. Listen for the message behind the message. Analyze and question.
Were you ever in an important conversation and you felt like you weren't getting your point across? You started shouting: "Do you hear what I'm saying? You're not paying attention. Do you hear me!?"

Everyone is guilty of this. How many times do we think we're listening to the other person, only to find out later that our mind was somewhere else? Before you decide whether to accept or reject an idea, before you argue, before you make statements, before you decry -- first make sure you're being objective. Otherwise, you're expressing an emotional prejudice -- not an intelligent opinion.

Shmi'at b'ozen literally means "listen with your ears." When the Torah uses the word Shema -- as in "Hear O Israel" -- it implies a deeper level listening -- focusing, paying attention, understanding, and putting into action. Zero in on just what is being said and let the message penetrate your thoughts.

Effective listening means:

 

1. Hearing the words.
2. Understanding the message.
3. Putting it into action.

 

 

 

DEFINE YOUR TERMS

I was once talking to a tourist on his first visit to Israel. He seemed disenchanted.

"They call this the Holy Land," he said. "But I've been up north, down south, to Jerusalem, Masada, all over -- and there's nothing holy about this place."

So I asked him: "Tell me, are you a bafoofstik?"

"What's that?"

"Just answer the question: Are you a bafoofstik or not?"

"How can I answer when I don't even know what you're talking about?!"

"Aha," I stopped him. "And holiness? Is it angels flapping their wings down the street, in rainbows of color and light, swirling in and out of rocks?"

We throw around concepts, but often our thoughts are vague and unsubstantial. Without an objective definition, we can't begin any intellectual process.

"Are you a good person?"

"Of course, I'm good! What kind of an insulting question is that?"

"So tell me, what is the definition of a good person?"

If you really desire to be a good person, you need more than feelings to determine whether you're reaching your goal or not. You'll need a clear way of measuring it. Otherwise people can do whatever they feel like doing and paint themselves "good." Even Hitler presumably had a goal of "doing good" -- ridding the world of Jewish vermin. But somewhere, something went wrong.

Once you have an objective definition, then you can determine if your life is consistent with that definition. It's true, a person can twist anything. But the more clarity you've got, the harder it is to twist.

 

 

THE "I-YOU-HE" GAME

The 48 Ways has a concept called the "I-You-He" game. It's based on the premise that we usually describe people on three levels. When we refer to ourselves, we paint the best picture possible. With others, we don't want be insulting to their face, so we paint them gray. And when someone is not around to defend himself, we paint him black. "I" am white. "You" are gray. "He" is black.

You're the passenger in a car careening 90 miles an hour down a winding mountain road. As you grip the dashboard in fear for your life, you turn to the driver and say, "Aren't you being a bit foolhardy?"

"Me? Oh, no. I'm brave. I'm not afraid of anything!"

If you're lucky enough to live to tell about it, you say, "That guy's a reckless idiot!"

The driver refers to himself as "brave." To his face, you call him "foolhardy." To a third party, he's a "reckless idiot."

Which one is the reality?

By working through objective definitions, we can assess the situation without personal feelings getting in the way:

 

1. "Brave" = taking a necessary risk for a worthwhile purpose (e.g. rushing into a burning building to save the children trapped inside).  
   
    
   
   
2. "Foolhardy" = taking an unnecessary risk, yet with a noble purpose (e.g. rushing in to save the children, but without any protective gear).  
   
    
   
   
3. "A Reckless Idiot" = taking an unnecessary risk, for no worthwhile purpose (e.g. rushing in just to watch the beams fall down).

 

Back to the car on the mountain road.

You turn to the driver and say, "Why are we risking our lives? What is the worthwhile purpose?"

The driver will have to agree he's being a reckless idiot.

That's being an intellectual. Leading with your head, rather than muddling through life based on feelings alone. Otherwise, you're always stuck on the level of: "I'm brave, he's a reckless idiot."

 

 

GET BACK TO BASICS

To get your definitions straight, start with the basics. Think of concepts you use all the time, fundamentals upon which you've built your life. Don't use words until you have a definition. You'll be surprised how much you've assumed about a particular idea, and how that assumption has guided your life.

You believe in "tolerance." What do you mean by it? You believe in justice? Truth? Love? Freedom? Fairness? Ask yourself: "What do these ideas really mean?" If it's a basic idea that shapes your world outlook, you had better know what it means!

Take the example of free will. Judaism says that free will is the decision between what you "want" to do, and what you "feel like" doing. For example, if you harmed someone, you know that you "want" to apologize. Sure, it's the right thing to do and will make peace. But you don't "feel like" doing it because it may be embarrassing and unpleasant.

With rare exception, no one consciously chooses evil in the sense of "evil, oooooh, I want to be bad and inflict suffering." No. We choose evil because in the short term, it's a less painful way of dealing with a difficult situation. We do what we "feel like" doing because it's easy.

Apply this definition of free will to your life. Do you want to be great? Sure! But you don't feel like making the effort. You feel like postponing it, procrastinating it and ducking the issue.

"I don't want to be great, I only want to be average."

"Really? You want mediocrity?"

"Of course not. I want greatness. Just not today!"

"Why not today?"

"Because I just don't feel like it..."

Do you have a goal? You know you can do it. It's just too painful. Make the decision and nothing will stop you. That's using your free will.

 

 

OBJECTIVE ARGUMENTATION

Sometimes we don't pay attention. We can talk for hours and not even know what we're arguing about.

Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai are two famous disputants in Talmudic literature. They argued about almost everything and saw the world from nearly opposite perspectives. For example, Beit Hillel says we should light one Chanukah candle the first night, and add one candle each subsequent night. Beit Shammai, on the other hand, says to light eight candles the first night and then decrease one candle each night. Opposite perspectives!

Jewish law follows Beit Hillel. Why? Because in any disagreement, Beit Hillel would always first state the opinion of Beit Shammai, and only then state his own position. In this way, Beit Hillel's position was deemed more objective, reflecting a truth that lay somewhere in between. That's why Jewish law follows Beit Hillel.

The next time you find yourself in an argument, get the picture straight. Don't take any ideas for granted, even if you think you understand what they mean. Listen for the message behind the message. Very often the fight is about something entirely different than you thought it was. Maybe underneath the other person is feeling, "He doesn't respect me," or "He takes me for granted." Get the message, not only the words. Ask: "What is her point? What does she mean? What does she want?"

Don't be busy getting your answer ready while the other person is still talking. Through questioning, you'll find there is always something deeper. Ask the person: "Do you mean to say... Please tell me if I understand you correctly." This way at least you know that you're arguing about the same thing."

Once you think you understand the idea, make the effort to say it over in your own words. Similarly, choosing our own example to illustrate what others are saying forces you to zero in on the essence of that idea. It's a good test to see if you understand the message. And it will help you integrate it and remember it.

 

 

DON'T BE A ZOMBIE

Laziness is holding us back. Creatures use their best instruments effectively -- wings, claws, beaks. But man frequently fails to use his best instrument, his mind. Man will go to any amount of work to avoid thinking. You can read the New York Times for a few hours and then ... nothing, blank! It's a great feeling, but what does it mean? What did you learn?

Get into a defining mode. Acquire the habit of analyzing what's happening around you. Anything worth your time -- reading the newspaper, a novel, having a conversation, watching a movie, touring -- should be productive. Always define your goal ahead of time. What do you want to accomplish?

Then afterwards, articulate what you learned. If you don't, you'll wind up living with intellectual confusion. For example, people who get fired from a job say they've learned a lot: "Now I know that I can't trust employers, that I'm incapable of a successful career, that the business world is hell, and that..."

But that's not what you are supposed to learn. What you should learn is the importance of studying the keys to a successful career before you get a job!

In Judaism, we go a lot deeper. We say "clarity or death." "Death" is the complete absence of consciousness; reduced consciousness is therefore partial death. Either you know what you are living for, you know what you want, you know what your pleasure is -- or else you are living like a zombie. That's why we need definitions. It gives us clarity for living.

 

 

TORAH WISDOM

Proper definitions are especially important when you are learning about our Jewish heritage. Taken at face value, the Torah may appear simplistic. Yet we know from tradition that the deepest concepts are contained within Torah, often encoded in simpler messages. Every word is carefully chosen.

If the Almighty is speaking, you ought to understand exactly what He's saying. When we speak of Torah, we're speaking of God and eternity, forever. We cannot afford mistakes in this area of life. A mistake in understanding Torah is a mistake for eternity. It's like sending a rocket to the moon. If you send it in a general direction -- but you're off target by a fraction of a mistake in a logarithm of the arc -- then you're lost in space.

Let's take an example. The Torah says there is a commandment to "know there's a God." So ask: "What is a commandment? What does it mean to 'know?' Who is God?" Define your terms in order to get behind the message and discover deeper ideas for life. Decode the key.

There's a crucial final step as well. Always ask yourself: "Now that I understand, what am I going to do about it?"

 

 

WHY IS "EFFECTIVE LISTENING" AN INGREDIENT IN WISDOM?

 

• "Listen" and "silent" have the same letters.  
  
   
  
  
• Get the picture straight, especially when you are emotionally involved.  
  
   
  
  
• Don't fall into the trap of the "I-You-He" game.  
  
   
  
  
• Without definitions, you can fool yourself into thinking you're living "the good life."  
  
   
  
  
• No one wants to be a bafoofstik.  
  
   
  
  
• Torah contains powerful tools for living. Make sure you dig out the depth of meaning.  
  
   
  
  
• There's no use arguing if you don't know what you're arguing about. No use in learning if you don't know what you've learned. No use in taking action if you don't know what you want to achieve.  
  
   
  
  
• If you use this tool for the rest of your life, you are rich.

from Aish.com

Can I borrow something small without permission?

A. Last week the office ran out of coffee. One coworker has a private jar, but he was nowhere to be found. Can I borrow a spoonful?

Q. This is a common issue, and many people see nothing wrong with "borrowing" from a friend in this way. In order to get to the bottom of this issue, we have to start from the proper foundations. The Talmud tells us a basic principle of ownership: "Borrowing without knowledge [of the owner] is considered stealing." (1)

The basis for this pronouncement is clear. Whether something is considered stealing or borrowing doesn't depend on the opinion of the taker; he has in any case no rights in the object. It can only depend on the opinion of the owner. Since the owner doesn't know of the "borrowing", the borrower's subjective intention to return the object has no power to change the legal status of the taking.

However, there can be cases where it is so clear that the person wouldn't mind that it can just be assumed. One example is a mitzvah object. In the case where borrowing would help a person do a mitzvah (religious commandment), and where the object is not harmed at all, our sages say, "A person agrees to have his property used for a mitzvah". (2) However, even this principle does not apply if there is a reasonable chance that damage will come to the object, for example borrowing a book which may become torn. (2)

Another example is an object whose whole purpose is to serve strangers. If you invite someone into your house, the guest generally doesn't need to ask permission to sit on the couch – that's what it's there for. (3)

At the same time, the rabbis of the Talmud were well aware of the danger of rationalization. It is just too easy to convince yourself that the owner surely doesn't mind. This tendency can be an expression of an exaggerated sense of entitlement which expresses itself in even worse ways. Consider the following story form the Talmud:

A silver cup was stolen from a boarder of [the sage] Mar Zutra Chasida. He saw a certain student who washed his hands and then dried them on his fellow's cloak. He exclaimed, This must be the person, see how he has no regard for his fellow's property! He took him aside and he confessed.(4)

I think we should err particularly on the side of caution when we are talking about a consumable product like coffee. When you borrow an object, the object is around to remind you that you have to return it. But when you take a spoonful of coffee, once you drink it is too easy to forget you ever borrowed it. In no time, all the coffee is gone. Now it is your friend who is stuck without coffee, but he doesn't have a friend to borrow from. If you don't even intend to return it the situation is even worse. A jar seems like a lot, but a private jar can go very quickly if everybody tells himself, "It's only one spoonful."

People are generally good-hearted, and are happy to help others if there is no harm to them. But people are equally aware that borrowing is a very slippery slope, and it is all too easy to forget to return something or to use it carelessly. So pass this time, and when you do see your friend ask him if he minds if you help yourself next time.

 

SOURCES: (1) Babylonian Talmud Bava Metzia 41a, Shulchan Arukh Choshen Mishpat 359:5. (2) Babylonian Talmud Bava Metzia 29b (3) Tur and Shulchan Arukh Choshen Mishpat 381. (4) Babylonian Talmud Bava Metzia 24a



This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/ci/be/69742432.html

By Nissan Dovid Dubov
What is the 'End of Days'? The term “End of Days” is taken from Numbers 24:4. This has always been taken as a reference to the messianic era. Here we shall explore – albeit briefly – the Jewish belief in the coming of Mashiach.

What does the word Mashiach mean?

Mashiach is the Hebrew word for Messiah. The word Messiah in English means a saviour or a “hoped-for deliverer”. The word Mashiach in Hebrew actually means “anointed”. In Biblical Hebrew the title Mashiach was bestowed on somebody who had attained a position of nobility and greatness. For example, the High Priest is referred to as the Kohen Hamashiach.

In Talmudic literature the title Mashiach, or Melech Hamashiach, (the King Messiah) is reserved for the Jewish leader who will redeem Israel in the End of Days.

What is the belief in Mashiach?

One of the principles of Jewish faith enumerated by Maimonides is that one day there will arise a dynamic Jewish leader, a direct descendant of the Davidic dynasty, who will rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem and gather Jews from all over the world and bring them back to the Land of Israel.

All the nations of the world will recognise Mashiach to be a world leader and will accept his dominion. In the messianic era there will be world peace, no more wars nor famine and, in general, a high standard of living.

All mankind will worship one G–d and live a more spiritual and moral way of life. The Jewish nation will be preoccupied with learning Torah and fathoming its secrets.

The coming of Mashiach will complete G–d’s purpose in creation: for man to make an abode for G–d in the lower worlds; to reveal the inherent spirituality in the material world.

Is this not a utopian dream?

No! Judaism fervently believes that, with the correct leadership, humankind can and will change. The leadership quality of Mashiach means that through his dynamic personality and example, coupled with manifest humility, he will inspire all people to strive for good. He will transform a seemingly utopian dream into a reality. He will be recognised as a man of G–d with greater leadership qualities than even Moshe.

In today’s society many people are repulsed by the breakdown of ethical and moral standards. Life is cheap, crime is rampant, drug and alcohol abuse are on the increase, children have lost respect for their elders. At the same time technology has advanced in quantum leaps. There is no doubt that today, if channelled correctly, man has all the resources necessary to create a good standard of living for all mankind. He lacks only the social and political will. Mashiach will inspire all men to fulfil that aim.

Why the belief in a human Messiah?

Some people believe that the world will “evolve” by itself into a messianic era without a human figurehead. Judaism rejects this belief. Human history has been dominated by empire builders greedy for power.

Others believe in Armageddon – that the world will self-destruct, either by nuclear war or by terrorism. Again Judaism rejects this view.

Our prophets speak of the advent of a human leader, the magnitude of whom the world has not yet experienced. His unique example and leadership will inspire mankind to change direction.

Where is Mashiach mentioned in the Scriptures?

The Scriptures are replete with messianic quotes. In Deuteronomy 30:1 Moshe prophesies that, after the Jews have been scattered to the four corners of the earth, there will come a time when they will repent and return to Israel where they will fulfil all the commandments of the Torah. The gentile prophet Bilam prophesies that this return will be lead by Mashiach (see Numbers 24:17-20). Jacob refers to Mashiach by the name Shilo (Genesis 49:10).

The prophets Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Amos, Joel and Hosea all refer to the messianic era. For full references the reader is referred to the book Mashiach by Rabbi Dr.I.Schochet. It is interesting to note that on the wall of the United Nations building in New York is inscribed the quote from Isaiah (Ch.11:6), “And the wolf shall lie with the lamb”. Furthermore, it is clear from the prophets, when studied in their original Hebrew, that Mashiach is a Jewish concept and will entail return to Torah law, firmly ruling out any “other” messianic belief.

What sort of leader will Mashiach be?

Mashiach will be a man who possesses extraordinary qualities. He will be proficient in both the written and oral Torah traditions. He will incessantly campaign for Torah observance among Jews and observance of the Seven Universal Noahide Laws by non-Jews. He will be scrupulously observant and encourage the highest standards from others. He will defend religious principles and repair breaches in their observance. Above all, Mashiach will be heralded as a true Jewish King, a person who leads the way in the service of G–d, totally humble yet enormously inspiring.

When will Mashiach come?

Jews anticipate the arrival of Mashiach everyday. Our prayers are full of requests to G–d to usher in the messianic era. Even at the gates of the gas chambers many Jews sang, “Ani Maamin” – I believe in the coming of Mashiach!

However, the Talmud states that there is a predestined time when Mashiach will come. If we are meritorious he may come even before that predestined time. This “end of time” remains a mystery, yet the Talmud states that it will be before the Hebrew year 6000. (The Hebrew year at the date of this publication is 5763.)

This does not rule out the possibility of Mashiach coming today and now if we merit it. It should be noted that many Torah authorities are of the opinion that we are in the “epoch of the Mashiach” and the Lubavitcher Rebbe stated on numerous occasions that the messianic redemption is imminent.

Could Mashiach come at any time in any generation?

Yes. In every generation there is a person who potentially could be the Mashiach. When G–d decides the time has arrived, He will bestow upon that individual the necessary powers for him to precipitate that redemption.

Any potential Mashiach must be a direct descendant of King David as well as erudite in Torah learning. It should be noted that many people living today can trace their lineage back to King David. The Chief Rabbi of Prague in the 16th Century, Rabbi Yehuda Loew (the Maharal), had a family tree that traced him back to the Davidic dynasty. Consequently, any direct descendant of the Maharal is of Davidic descent.

Maimonides, a great Jewish philosopher and codifier of the 12th Century, rules that if we recognise a human being who possesses the superlative qualities ascribed to Mashiach we may presume that he is the potential Mashiach. If this individual actually succeeds in rebuilding the Temple and gathering in the exiles then he is the Mashiach.

What exactly will happen when Mashiach comes?

Maimonides states in his Mishnah Torah – a compendium of the entire halachic tradition – that Mashiach will first rebuild the Temple and then gather in the exiles. Jerusalem and the Temple will be the focus of Divine worship and “From Zion shall go forth Torah, and the word of the L–rd from Jerusalem.”

The Sanhedrin – a supreme Jewish law court of 71 sages – will be established and will decide on all matters of law. At this time all Jews will return to full Torah observance and practice. It should be noted that in this present age of great assimilation and emancipation an unprecedented return of Jews to true Torah values has taken place. This “Baal Teshuvah” phenomenon is on the increase and paves the way for a full return in the messianic era.

Will miracles happen?

The Talmud discusses this question and again arrives at the conclusion that, if we are meritorious, the messianic redemption will be accompanied by miracles. However, the realisation of the messianic dream, even if it takes place naturally, will be the greatest miracle.

According to some traditions G–d Himself will rebuild the third Temple. According to others it will be rebuilt by Mashiach, while others suggest a combination of the two opinions. Some suggest that there will be two distinct periods in the messianic era: the first, a non-miraculous period, leading on to a second miraculous period.

Maimonides writes, “Neither the order of the occurrence of these events nor their precise detail is among the fundamental principles of the faith … one should wait and believe in the general conception of the matter.”

What will become of the world as we know it?

Initially, there will be no change in the world order other than its readiness to accept messianic rule. All the nations of the world will strive to create a new world order in which there will be no more wars or conflicts. Jealousy, hatred, greed and political strife (of the negative kind) will disappear and all human beings will strive only for good, kindness and peace.

In the messianic era there will be great advances in technology allowing a high standard of living. Food will be plentiful and cheap.

However the focus of human aspiration will be the pursuit of the “knowledge of G–d.” People will become less materialistic and more spiritual.

What are the birthpangs of Mashiach’s arrival?

The Talmud describes the period immediately prior to the advent of Mashiach as one of great travail and turmoil. There will be a world recession and governments will be controlled by despots. It is in this troubled setting that Mashiach will arrive.

There is a tradition that a great war will take place, called the war of Gog and Magog, and there is much speculation as to the precise timing of this war in relation to Mashiach’s arrival.

There is a tradition that Elijah the prophet will come to the world and announce the imminent arrival of Mashiach. However, according to other opinions, Mashiach may arrive unannounced. Elijah would then arrive to assist in the peace process. Some suggest that if the Mashiach arrives in his predestined time then Elijah will announce his arrival, but if Mashiach comes suddenly then Elijah will appear after Mashiach has come.

As mentioned before, it is unclear as to exactly how these events will unfold. However, this uncertainty does not affect the general matter of Mashiach’s arrival.

When will the resurrection of the dead take place?

One of the principles of Jewish faith is belief in the resurrection of the dead. According to the Zohar – an early Kabbalistic text – the resurrection will take place forty years after the arrival of Mashiach. However, certain righteous individuals will arise with the coming of Mashiach. All the dead will be resurrected in the Land of Israel.

There is a small bone in the body called the Luz bone (some identify this bone as the coccyx) from which the body will be rebuilt at the time of resurrection. Our daily prayers are replete with requests for the resurrection and there are many customs connected with it. (See the book To Live and Live Again – SIE Publications)

What can be done to bring Mashiach?

In general, mankind must strive to perform more acts of goodness and kindness. The Jew is mandated to learn and be aware of the messianic redemption, and strengthen his faith in Mashiach’s ultimate and imminent arrival.

Charity is a catalyst for redemption and every day in our prayers we sincerely plead many times for the rebuilding of Jerusalem, the in-gathering of the exiles and the return to Torah observance under the leadership of Mashiach. The Lubavitcher Rebbe mounted a worldwide Mashiach campaign to heighten the awareness of Mashiach’s imminent arrival. The Rebbe constantly urged every Jew to prepare himself, his family and his community for the arrival of Mashiach. This can best be achieved by “living with Mashiach”; that is, by learning about Mashiach and yearning for his coming.

Summary

In conclusion, the Jew always was and remains the eternal optimist. Even in his darkest hour he hopes and prays for a brighter future – a world of peace and spirituality.

from Chabad.org

Back and forth the polemics fly, across the reaches of Cyberspace.

We debate everything, from gay rights to Israeli politics. But for the most part, we deconstruct the Bible. Our differences in perspective could not have been starker. For one, I believe that the Torah is the absolute word of G-d and an instructor and guide for everyday life. My friend Carol believes that it is an eclectic collection of wisdom and fanciful legends, penned by many diverse individuals over time. I believe that the characters in the Bible are real people, my ancestors in fact. She insists that most are mythical heroes, and the events described mainly metaphorical.

I question why she takes the word of an archeologist at face value while rejecting the historic testimony of an entire nation. For her part, she can't comprehend how this ancient document filled with puzzling statements serves as my guide for 21st century living. She does not understand my gullibility -- how I credulously accept Bible stories as perfect truth. I try to explain the need to study the oral Torah -- the interpretations handed down to Moses on Sinai, passed from one generation of sages to the next. Carol doesn't understand why the group decisions of men who lived centuries ago should be followed with such scrupulousness today.

As we play round after round, I think bemusedly of how easily our roles could have been reversed. The divergence of the Jewish nation into separate paths is a relatively recent historical phenomenon. My great-grandparents, as well as hers, were devout Jews; our grandparents had lost their Jewish observance somewhere in the immigration shuffle; my baby-boomer parents reclaimed theirs in their teens. The awareness that I am where I am is only due to a quirk of history leads me to tone down my rhetoric, to think before I speak. I imagine us doing a role swap, with Carol patiently teaching me the Torah that my parents never knew. The switch seems so natural, in my imagination. It reminds me that I do not speak for Torah; the Torah speaks for us.

Slowly, we find common ground. I accept some of her metaphorical interpretations of Torah's stories, although I still insist that the events described in the Torah did in fact take place. She begins to incorporate more mitzvot in her personal life, lighting Shabbat candles, performing a havdalah ceremony. Her children learn about their Judaism, and are proud of it.

Eventually the battle winds down; we both tire. When I sense an edge to our conversations, I back off, sometimes for months. I don't want to push too hard; I value our friendship too highly. Our dialogues turn to more mundane topics. Our kids. Trips to the zoo.

After some months, she hesitantly admits that she misses our discussions. Somewhere inside, she tells me, through all our exchanges, she felt something come alive. I think I know what she means. Her challenges had ignited that very same passion in me and sent me diving into books for hours deep into the night. It's our stubborn Jewish soul asserting itself, screaming for expression. We debate, we grope, and we struggle to define the eternally relevant message of Torah. Beneath the surface disagreements, we share a deeply embedded, unbreakable bond with the Book that made our nation famous.

It is Simchat Torah. In the synagogue, we take out the Torah scroll, unopened, wrapped in its mantle. Holding it aloft, we hug it close to our hearts and dance. We embrace its totality, as we celebrate our unique relationship with this scroll that has kept us and molded us into the People we are today. Reaching back through history, forward for eternity, the Torah is ours, and we are hers.
from Chabad.org by Chaya Shuchat

by R. Nissan Mindel
It was the first day of Sukkot, and all the congregants in the shul (synagogue) of Rabbi Elimelech of Lizensk were in a festive mood. One could feel the "Yom-Tov" spirit in the atmosphere.

As Rabbi Elimelech stood at the lectern and began reciting Hallel, all eyes turned upon him. There was something unusual in his manner this Sukkot. Why did he stop so suddenly in the middle of his swaying as he held the etrog and lulav in his hands to sniff the air? And why did he not go through the Service in his usual leisurely manner? It was evident that something was on his mind, something rather exciting by the look on his radiant countenance.

The minute the davening (praying) was over, Rabbi Elimelech hurried to where his brother Rabbi Zusha (who had come to spend the festival with him) was standing, and said to him eagerly: "Come and help me find the etrog which is permeating the whole shul with the fragrance of the Garden of Eden!"

And so together they went from person to person until they reached the far corner of the shul where a quiet looking individual was standing, obviously engrossed in his own thoughts.

"This is the one," called out Rabbi Elimelech delightedly. "Please, dear friend, tell me who are you and where you obtained this wonderful etrog?"

The man, looking somewhat startled and bewildered at this unexpected question, replied rather slowly, carefully choosing his words:

"With all due respect to you, Rabbi, it is quite a story. Do you wish to sit down and listen to it all?"

"Most certainly I do," answered Rabbi Elimelech emphatically, "I am sure it will be a story worth hearing!"

"My name," began the quiet-looking man, "is Uri, and I come from Strelisk. I have always regarded taking the "four kinds" on Sukkot as one of my favorite mitzvot, and so, although I am a poor man and could normally not afford to buy an etrog according to my desire, my young wife, who agrees with me as to its importance, helps me by hiring herself out as cook. Thus she is independent of any financial help from me, and I can use my own earnings for spiritual matters. I am employed as melamed (teacher) in the village of Yanev, which is not far from my native town. One half of my earnings I use for our needs and with the other half I buy an etrog in Lemberg. But in order not to spend any money on the journey I usually go on foot.

"This year, during the Ten Days of Repentance, I was making my way on foot as usual, with fifty gulden in my purse with which to buy an etrog, when on the road to Lemberg I passed through a forest and stopped at a wayside inn to have a rest. It was time for 'minchah' so I stood in a corner and davened minchah.

"I was in the middle of my prayers when I heard a terrible sound of moaning and groaning, as of one in great anguish. I hurriedly finished my davening so that I could find out what was the trouble, and if I could help in any way.

"As I turned towards the man who was in obvious distress, I beheld a most unusual and rough looking person, dressed in peasant garb with a whip in his hands, pouring out his troubles to the inn-keeper at the bar.

"From the somewhat confused story, between his sobs, I managed to gather that the man with the whip was a poor Jew who earned his living as a baal agallah (owner of a horse and cart for carting purposes). He had a wife and several children and he barely managed to earn enough to make ends meet. And now, a terrible calamity had be fallen him. His horse, without which he could do nothing, had suddenly collapsed in the forest not far from the inn, and just lay there unable to get up.

"I could not bear to see the man's despair and tried to encourage him, by telling him that he must not forget that there is a G-d above us who could help him in his trouble, however serious it seemed to him.

" 'I'll sell you another horse for fifty gulden, although I assure you he is worth at least eighty, but just to help you out in your difficulty!' " The inn-keeper was saying to the wagon driver.

" 'I haven't even fifty cents, and he tells me I can buy a horse for fifty gulden!' the man said bitterly.

"I felt I could not keep the money I had with me for an etrog when here was a man in such desperate plight that his very life and that of his family depended upon his getting a horse. So I said to the inn-keeper:

"'Tell me what is the lowest price you would take for your horse?'

"The inn-keeper turned to me in surprise. If you pay me on the spot, I will take forty-five gulden, but absolutely not a cent less. I am selling my horse at a loss as it is!'

"I immediately took out my purse and banded him forty-five gulden, the wagon driver looking on, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets in astonishment. He was just speechless with relief, and his joy was absolutely indescribable.

"'Now you see that the Almighty can help you, even when the situation appears to you to be entirely hopeless!' I said to him as he hurried off with the innkeeper to harness the newly-bought horse to his forsaken cart tied to the stricken horse in the forest.

"As soon as they went off, I hurriedly got my few things together and disappeared, as I did not want to be embarrassed by the thanks of the grateful wagon driver.

"I eventually reached Lemberg with the remaining five gulden in my pocket, and naturally had to content myself with buying a very ordinary looking but kosher etrog. Usually my etrog is the best in Yanev, and everyone used to come and make a blessing over it , but this year I was ashamed to return home with such a poor-looking specimen, so my wife agreed that I could come here to Lizensk, where nobody knew me."

"But my dear Rabbi Uri," cried out Rabbi Elimelech, now that the former had finished his story, "Yours is indeed an exceptional etrog. Now I realize why your etrog has the fragrance of the Garden of Eden in its perfume! Let me tell you the sequel to your story."

"When the wagon driver whom you saved thought about his unexpected good fortune, he decided that you must have been none other than the Prophet Elijah whom the Almighty had sent down to earth in the form of a man, in order to help him in his desperation. Having come to this conclusion the happy wagon driver looked for a way of expressing his gratitude to the Almighty, but the poor man knew not a Hebrew word, nor could he say any prayers. He racked his simple brain for the best way of thanksgiving.

"Suddenly his face lit up. He took his whip and lashed it into the air with all his might, crying out with all his being: 'Dear Father in Heaven, I love you very much! What can I do to convince you of my love for you? Let me crack my whip for you as a sign that I love you!' Saying which, the wagon driver cracked his whip into the air three times.

"On the eve of Yom Kippur, the Almighty up above was seated on His 'Seat of judgment,' listening to the first prayers of the Day of Atonement.

"Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, who was acting as the Counsel for Defense on behalf of his fellow Jews, was pushing a wagon full of Jewish mitzvot to the Gates of Heaven, when Satan appeared and obstructed his path with piles of Jewish sins, so that Rabbi Levi Yitzchak just got stuck there. My brother Rabbi Zusha and I added our strength to help him move his wagon forward, but all in vain; even our combined efforts proved fruitless.

"Suddenly there came the sound of the cracking of a whip which rent the air, causing a blinding ray of light to appear, lighting up the whole universe, right up to the very heavens! There we saw the angels and all the righteous seated in a circle, singing G-d’s praise. On hearing the wagon driver's words as he cracked his whip in ecstasy, they responded: 'Happy is the King who is thus praised!'

"All at once, the Angel Michael appeared, leading a horse, followed by the wagon driver with whip in hand.

"The Angel Michael harnessed this horse to the wagon of mitzvot, and the wagon driver cracked his whip. Suddenly the wagon gave a lurch forward, flattening the piles of sins that had been obstructing the way, and drove it smoothly and easily right up to the Throne of Honor. There the King of Kings received it most graciously and, rising from the Seat of judgment, went over and seated Himself on the Seat of Mercy. A happy New Year was assured."

"And now dear Rabbi Uri" concluded Rabbi Elimelech, "you see that all this came about through your noble action. Go home, and be a leader in Israel! For you have proved your worthiness, and you shall carry with you the approval of the Heavenly Court. But before you go, permit me to hold this wonderful etrog of yours, and praise G-d with it."
from Chabad.org

Once the Baal Shem Tov sat with his disciples for the festive meal of Rosh Chodesh, and his face was serious. The disciples knew from previous occasions things that would put their Rebbe in a more joyous mood, and they tried, but with no success.

Then, a certain village-dwelling Jew entered, named Reb Dovid. Immediately upon his entry the Baal Shem Tov was full of joy--he treated him warmly, gave him a place to sit, and also gave him a piece of his "hamotzi" (bread).

This matter caused the disciples to have questioning thoughts--the whole Holy Society were not able to rouse joy, and only a villager was able to do so?!

The Baal Shem Tov sensed their questions, and sent Reb Dovid off to do something, and when he left he said to them:

This Reb Dovid works hard, by the sweat of his brow, for every penny he earns. During the year he saves a penny at a time to buy an etrog for Sukkot, until he assembles the sum and travels to the city and buys an extremely fine one, and he has great joy from it. Since he is poor, and his wife is of bitter spirit, it angered her considerably that he does not care about the condition of his household, since he spends money on an etrog and rejoices over it. In her bitterness she broke the pitom (tip) of the etrog (rendering it possul, unfit for use).

Now, besides the money that he spent on the etrog, there were many obstacles to bringing it, water to cross, bad roads, so that it all added up to much hard effort. Yet, when he saw what his wife had done he was not angry, but said: "It appears that I am not worthy of such an etrog. Truly, does a simple Jew like me deserve such a fine etrog?!"

"From the time of the Akeidah (the 'Binding of Isaac')," concluded the Baal Shem Tov, "there was not such a test of character, and therefore I treated him so warmly."

(Sefer Hasichot 5696, p. 148) from Chabad.org