Akiva Society

Dear Rosie & Sherry,

I'm age 23, tall, slim and healthy; graduated with honors from a good college, and now gainfully employed. Yet for some reason I haven't had one serious courtship, even though it's been more than a year since I started dating seriously for marriage.

When women decide to stop seeing me after one date (even though I'm willing to continue), I ask them to explain why. The typical response is that I'm a “very nice guy,” and that they “enjoyed spending time with me.” They say there is nothing wrong with me that they can put their finger on, but for some reason they don't have the right "gut feeling." Regretfully, this has happened a number of times.

What can I do to make girls more attracted to me?

Eli

Dear Eli:

We hear the same question from many other “early daters” who wonder why they haven't been able to develop any meaningful connection with someone they've gone out with, and they suspect that something must be the matter with them. Most of the time, there's absolutely nothing "wrong" with the person asking the question. It's just that it sometimes takes a while to meet someone with the right mix of compatible values and goals, character traits, personality and appearance. These factors have to all come together in order for both people to feel that their connection has serious potential and they want to move things forward.

You've only been dating a little more than a year. You may look at some people you know who met the right person relatively quickly, and think that's the way it's supposed to happen. But that's not true for the majority of daters. Most people can date for a few years, or more, before they develop a relationship that leads to marriage. The goal of marriage-oriented dating is not to have "serious relationships," but rather to find that one right person. So it’s important that you don't put yourself on an arbitrary timetable.

On the other hand, if it's been your experience that you seldom get past the first or second date, then it would be helpful for you to take a closer look at what's happening.

It's possible that you're dating people who aren't in the ballpark for you. That can happen when you accept blind date suggestions without asking enough questions to ascertain if she and you have compatible value systems and goals, and possess several of the personal qualities each other is looking for in a partner. To simply go out with someone who's described as "nice," without finding out enough information, can result in an enjoyable date with someone whom you can't possibly build anything with in the long term.

On the first few dates, restrain yourself from talking about deeply personal topics. Another reason could be that you are overeager to have a date work out, or that you're anxious, or that you project strong positive feelings you may have about the person you are with. Any of these can make your date feel uncomfortable. The first few dates are the time for two people to break the ice, start to learn about each other, and do something fun together. The daters need to restrain themselves from talking about deeply personal topics and from displaying any strong feelings they may be having. That's because this can quickly lead to the other person feeling uneasy and turning off – because they don't know how to handle such a situation with someone they barely know.

It could also be possible that some of the young women you've gone out with don't understand how to date for marriage. They may be expecting fireworks, which is very unrealistic, and may not know that it may take two, three or even four dates before their initial “neutral” reaction starts to blossom into feeling a real connection. They may not understand that, for the first few dates, the best idea is to focus on the moment, and when the date is over, the question to ask themselves is: "Can I go on one more date with him?"

There's another possibility. Sometimes, a person who is repeatedly turned down and is told he's a "nice guy" isn't being told that something about the way he presents himself or interacts isn't working. It could be how he dresses, his social skills, what he talks about (such as focusing primarily on his job or one particular topic), or tries to impress so hard that he's not himself. When you ask someone you've gone out with what the problem is, she is probably the wrong person to ask, because this is a hard topic to discuss with someone she's dated. The better "address" to go for feedback is a third party, ideally someone who knows you both (or in the case of a blind date, the one who set it up).

If you begin to see a pattern in your dates' decision not to continue, you will want to make some changes. In this regard you can benefit from working with a dating coach.

While we think it is a good idea for you to explore the possibilities we've discussed, it is very likely that you've just not yet met a woman who is right for you. Time is part of the dating process, and while most daters wish that the Right One would come along quickly, often the process takes time. While you navigate the dating maze, we encourage you to take some of the pressure off yourself by not making your life revolve solely around your job and your dating. It's important to also keep up your contacts with friends and family, pursue a hobby or interest, be involved in a community project, and take care of yourself by eating right and being physically active. If you have a balanced life, you'll find that you are better able to deal with the ups and downs of dating – until you're fortunate enough to meet the person who is right for you.

We wish you success in navigating the dating maze.

Rosie & Sherry



This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/d/a/83867882.html

by Rabbi Dr. Asher Meir, Business Ethics Center of Jerusalem

Social insurance is not the same as charity.



Q. In a recent column you suggested that getting money from a government program is better than taking charity. What is the difference?

A. Recently I suggested that giving a sum of money as unemployment insurance is better than giving it as a charitable donation. One simple reason is that government programs are anonymous, and they don't depend on the good will of the taxpayer. Therefore, the recipient doesn't have to feel personally beholden to any individual.

Maimonides writes that the highest level of charity is not to give charity at all, but rather to help a person remain independent. But he then continues:

Less than that is one who gives charity to the poor and he doesn't know to whom he gave and the poor person doesn't know from whom he took. For this is a good deed for its own sake. . . And similar to this would be one who gives to a charity fund. (1)

So at the very least a government program is preferable to an outright gift from this point of view.

However, there is also another difference. Our Sages teach us that whenever possible we should strive not to take charity at all:

Rabbi Akiva said, one should [even] make the Sabbath like an ordinary weekday rather than accept from others. (2)

A little later in the same chapter we find:

Rav said to Rav Kahana . . . flay hides in the marketplace for wages, but don't say, "I am a priest, I am a distinguished person, and it is beneath me [to do such work]. (3)

And the mishna states:

Anyone who doesn't need yet takes, will not leave the world until he becames dependent on others. And anyone who needs but doesn't take, will not die [even of] old age until he is able to support others. (Of course this does not apply to someone whose need is dire who is required to accept charity.)(4)

However, I believe that none of these dicta apply to social insuranc e programs that are not means-tested. In programs like unemployment insurance or social security, a person pays in money in order to be eligible for the benefit. When he becomes eligible, it is not because he is needy but merely because he is entitled to what he paid for.

In fact, I would say that these statements do not apply to any program that is not means tested, as long as no subterfuge is involved in obtaining eligibility. If the citizens of some polity decide to tax everybody in order to confer some benefit on certain citizens for some worthy cause, we may agree or disagree with the decision but it is not like giving charity to some wretched needy person.

The continuation of the above mishna condemns someone who pretends to be lame in order to obtain charity. But a person who really does have some disability is perfectly entitled to enjoy a government benefit designed to help people with such a problem. This would in fact be the highest level of charity: giving to someone as a gift without conditioning it in any way on poverty, so that there is no stigma.

Citizens can have legitimate disagreement on the proper extent of government programs and aid to various interest groups. However, once these programs are legitimately agreed upon there is no stigma involved in benefiting from them, as long as no kind of subterfuge is involved (even if it is short of fraud). There is even no hypocrisy involved in voting against a program and subsequently benefiting from it. After all, a person who votes against a program is not exempt from paying taxes for it, and so there is no reason he should feel disqualified from benefiting if he is eligible.

SOURCES: (1) Maimonides' Code, Gifts to the Poor 10:8. (2) Babylonian Talmud Pesachim 112a. (3) Babylonian Talmud Pesachim 113a. (4) Mishna Peah 8:9.



This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/ci/be/84108612.html

by Rebbetzin Tzipporah Heller

Valentine's Day and our ambivalence about love.



Love. We want it more than anything else in the world. From the time that our infantile search for assurance is assuaged by the warmth of skin-to-skin contact, our quest for connection and bonding does not end until the day we die, and even the moment of death is sweetened by the presence of those dear to us.

We pursue love endlessly. We spend our lives communicating its value through every human means of self-expression. We are afraid of its power and often choose not to love rather than to be vulnerable to the pain of frustration, or worse still, rejection.

I still remember the yearning and the fear activated on Valentine's Day: "Whom shall I give my valentine to? Do they want it? Will they send one to me?"

As we grow older the words we lacked as children enter our inner dialogue. "Will anyone ever really love me? Can I trust myself enough to love anyone sincerely?"

Our landscape is littered by words that disguise betrayal. Our society has failed us. Our landscape is littered by words that disguise betrayal. We victimize ourselves ceaselessly. We want to be loved and to give love, but don't know how to do it without destroying what we want most in the process.

Let us examine the source of our ambiguity toward love -- from the source of life itself.

THE SOURCE OF AMBIGUITY

The Torah tells us that Adam, the first human, was created in the image of God. Adam could have seen himself as completely whole and without any need to search for connection or meaning. But the text continues and says that it was "not good for Adam to be alone." We then learn about the separation of Adam into two beings -- Man (Ish) and Woman (Isha).

What Adam lacked as an unencumbered single individual was the opportunity to give and receive in a meaningful way. After the division, Adam is described by the Talmud as being like a person who lost something and can't stop searching for it.

But the Torah is unwilling to allow the search to disintegrate into a quest that has a single goal -- just being beloved. There must be an additional goal that prevents the process from becoming the cannibalistic feast that it sometimes is.

So the Torah instructs: "Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and cleave to his wife."

Since the first man obviously had no human parents, this directive is puzzling. Who exactly should he leave? The answer the Sages give is that he must leave the child-parent relationship.


The normal relationship between parents and children is that parents give and children receive. The normal relationship between parents and children is that parents give and children receive. The love that grows between them is surprisingly unbalanced. Parents love their children far more than most children love their parents. There is a flaw inherent in the relationship that causes this misbalance. Love is never the result of taking. It is the result of giving. The more we give, the more we love. The more we love, the more we are beloved.

A MEANINGFUL RELATIONSHIP

In order for the relationship between man and woman to work, it must first be defined meaningfully. When either partner yearns to be someone's "baby love," the relationship is doomed.

Which takes us to Cupid himself. The arrows he shoots are painful, but exquisite in the joy that only love brings. If grabbing and hunting doesn't do it, what does?

The only answer is a marriage in which both partners are willing to feel vulnerable enough to let themselves express love by giving of themselves freely. This ideal is difficult to live up to in a society where Judy Seifer, Ph.D., president of the American Association of Sex Educators, Counselors, and Therapists, cautions women: "Keep your expectations in check. Realize that this wonderful man had a very full life before he met you... you are only part of it... Show him that you're an independent person."

What is she saying? Don't count on anyone. Have low expectations. Don't humiliate yourself by loving anyone other than yourself.

We wear armor and protect ourselves from what we want the most. Make no mistake: the Torah recognizes that we are imperfect people, living in an imperfect world. While it tells us to love, it also teaches us how to preserve our emotional integrity. We are fragile. We are broken easily by selfishness and rejection.

So how does the Torah give us the balance we need?

THE TORAH ANSWER

When a man meets a woman with whom he would like to have a relationship, he must realize that he owes it to himself to find what he has lost, what he has been looking for all the time. The man is simultaneously restricted from what I shall call "hunting." Every woman must be treated as a human. Only on that basis can the relationship be one in which he genuinely cleaves to her and becomes one with her.

To make this work, women must also make a decision. To make this work, women must also make a decision. They must decide to reject the societal notion that they can be loved honestly, while at the same time defining themselves as prey.

Women, as well as men, are required to be (of all things) modest. It must be their decision to project themselves as truly human, if they want to be seen as such.

Modesty is not a hang-up. It is a choice to be one's highest and most human self.

Wendy Shalit wrote in her landmark "A Return to Modesty" (Free Press/Simon & Schuster, 1999):

 

This is becoming our great modern divide, his commitment problem and her hang-up problem. These two problems have re-emerged together for a reason. A society, which sees her modesty or her "hang-ups" as a problem, is necessarily a society, which will not get him to commit.  

The time has come for a new order in the world of love. We must realize that our vulnerability is the very point at which we break through the barriers separating us from one another.

We must embrace our vulnerability. For it is only then that we can live, and love, without fear and without thoughtlessness.

 



This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/sp/pg/48898307.html

by Libi Astaire

Why Purim best expressed their loyalty to their Jewish heritage.



It’s a holiday that is marked by fasting and sincere regret over one’s past mistakes. But if you think that day is called Yom Kippur, think again. And meet the Purim of the Anusim – Spanish Jews who were forced to convert to Christianity, and who became the target of the Spanish Inquisition because of their secret loyalty to the Jewish faith.

Why was Purim such a solemn holiday for the Anusim? And why did they single out Purim as the holiday that best expressed their loyalty to their Jewish heritage? To answer these questions, we must travel to a world where it was forbidden to light Shabbos candles, pray in a synagogue, or have a Pesach Seder: the world of medieval Spain.

A World Turned Upside Down

No one knows when the first Jews set foot on the Iberian Peninsula, but we do know that by the 800s Spain’s Jews were experiencing a Golden Age that was to last for approximately 500 years. During that fabled era Jews were prominent in business, government, science, and the arts. Flourishing Torah centers produced some of Judaism’s greatest scholars and leaders: the Rambam (Maimonides), the Ramban (Nachmanides), Yehuda HaLevi, the author of The Kuzari, and many others.

The good times began to sour in the 1200s, when the Jews were forced to wear yellow badges and live in Juderias, Spain’s equivalent of the Italian ghetto. Things went from bad to worse in the century that followed, culminating in the Massacre of 1391, when mobs burned down Seville’s Juderia and murdered any Jew who refused to be baptized.

Many of these “New Christians” turned out to be “Old Jews.” The riots spread throughout the Iberian Peninsula, and thousands of Jews were forced to convert to Christianity to save their lives. But this turned out to be a pyrrhic victory for the Catholic Church, since many of these “New Christians” turned out to be “Old Jews” in disguise. On the outside they pretended to be like their Christian neighbors, but within the privacy of their homes their secretly clung to the customs and traditions of their Jewish faith.

During the 1400s, both the clergy and the Spanish nobility were flabbergasted to see that the New Christians had once again risen to the top of Spanish society, where they filled important roles in government and commerce. And so when Ferdinand and Isabella ascended the throne of a newly unified Spain, the Church and the State joined forces to solve their “Jewish Problem” for once and for all. Those who had remained Jews were expelled from the monarchs’ kingdom in 1492, while the Spanish Inquisition was established to take care of the “heretics.”

A Jew by Any Other Name

The Spanish Inquisition was relentless in its efforts to hunt down the Anusim, who were also known as Marranos and crypto-Jews. But by whatever name they were called, they responded by stubbornly going further under cover.

Was it too dangerous to have a Jewish prayer book in the house? No problem. They would memorize the prayers.

Was it too dangerous to openly light Shabbos candles? No problem. They would hide the lit candle in a cupboard, the chimney, or an earthenware jar.

Was it too dangerous to celebrate the Jewish holidays on their real dates? No problem. They would trick their pursuers by celebrating a few days – or months - before or after the real date.

The Anusim became accustomed to living in a world of secrecy. The Anusim therefore gradually became accustomed to living in a world where secrecy was the norm and disguise was a way of life. But despite their efforts and good intentions, they did have a problem. Their connection to the rest of the Jewish world had been severed. Without access to Jewish books, or even a Jewish calendar, it became harder and harder to remember all the prayers and laws. And there were many commandments that they couldn’t perform or were forced to transgress because the danger was too great.

To compensate, over time the Anusim began to develop their own unique culture, complete with special prayers and customs. Nowhere do we see this more clearly than with the holiday of Purim.

The “Fast” Lane to Redemption

Traditionally, the Purim holiday is comprised of two parts: the Fast of Esther, a one-day fast that takes place the day before Purim, and Purim itself, a busy day filled with lots of mitzvot (commandments) and noise and laughter. But what is good fun for us was a day fraught with danger if you were a Hidden Jew.

Drown out Haman’s name with noisemakers during the public reading in synagogue of Megillat Esther? Not in a community that scrupulously kept the location of their underground synagogues a secret.

Get so drunk at the festive Purim meal that you can’t tell the difference between “blessed be Mordechai” and “cursed be Haman”? Not unless you wanted to wake up the next day to a personal invitation to appear before the court of the Spanish Inquisition.

So what could the Anusim do? In a word, fast. They looked into the megillah and saw that when the Jewish people were threatened with annihilation, Queen Esther ordered a three-day fast for everyone. So the Anusim – who lived with that threat every day of their lives - decided to fast for three days, too.

The Inquisition’s records provide us with some fascinating details about this unique custom. For one thing, the fast was mainly done by women, who felt a special connection to the heroine of the Purim story, Queen Esther. But since a three-day fast could be dangerous to a person’s health, the women found ingenious ways to observe the fast without endangering their lives.

Gabriel de Granada, for instance, a thirteen-year-old boy who was interrogated by Mexico’s Inquisition in 1643, revealed that the women of his family would sometimes split the three days between them. Some members of the family would fast on the first day, others would fast on the second day, and the rest on the third day.

Leonor de Pina, a Portuguese woman who was arrested in 1619 for being a “Judaizer,” offers another explanation for how the three-day fast was observed. She told her interrogators that she and her daughters fasted for three days “without eating if it was not dark, or else eating things other than meat.” In other words, they fasted during the day, but ate at night, or their fast consisted of refraining from eating meat for three days.

Whether the women fasted the entire three days, observed a partial fast for three days, or split the days of the fast between them, what is clear from the historical record is that the Fast of Esther was taken very seriously. But why did they feel a need to fast for three days, when the rest of the Jewish world felt that one day would do?

Scholars who have studied the Anusim and their customs suggest various reasons. The fast, which could be done in the privacy of one’s home, was perhaps a substitute for the mitzvot that they couldn’t observe, such as having a public megillah reading or sending gifts of food to friends.

In addition, Professor Moshe Orfali, dean of Bar-Ilan University’s Department of Jewish Studies, has pointed out that the Anusim tended to fast quite often. He surmises that since the Anusim were forced to violate the laws of the Torah every day, they felt they needed to fast frequently to be cleansed of their sins. On a special holiday like Purim, they tripled their efforts in the hope to achieve a personal redemption, as well as the Final Redemption for all the Jewish people.

Of course, Purim wasn’t an entirely solemn holiday. The family most likely gathered together to hear the megillah read, quietly. They would also have a special meal, behind locked doors. But as the centuries passed, Purim took on a surprising character that was unique to the Anusim.

Holy “Saint” Esther

The Spanish Inquisition hunted down the Anusim for more than three centuries, and it was a chase that was carried out not only in Europe, but also in Central and South America and the wild territories that later became the American Southwest.

When the Spanish Inquisition came to an official end in the year 1835, one might think that the Anusim heaved a collective sigh of relief and returned, en masse, to the Jewish people. But even though some did convert to Judaism, a surprising number of them chose to remain hidden in their villages, where they clung to their secret customs.

How did Judaism’s Queen Esther turn into a Catholic saint? While many Anusim living in Spain and Portugal retained the memory that they were descended from Jews, those who settled in the New World gradually forgot who their ancestors were. All they knew was that they had customs that were different from those of their neighbors – for instance, they didn’t eat pork and the only “saint” to whom they offered prayers was the Holy “Saint” Esther.

How did Judaism’s Queen Esther turn into a Catholic saint? According to Professor Janet Liebman Jacobs, who made an ethnographic study of descendents of the Anusim who live in the American Southwest, sometimes the only way that an oppressed people can survive spiritually is to disguise their own religiously important figures within the garb of the dominant religious culture. Since the Spanish settlers brought both Catholicism and the Inquisition with them to the New World, Queen Esther had to go into hiding along with the Anusim - and the holiday of Purim was turned into the Festival of Saint Esther.

One of the women that Prof. Jacobs interviewed, who lives in New Mexico, explained that the Festival of Saint Esther was mainly a women’s holiday that was dedicated to mothers teaching daughters the way to run a home according to their unique customs. It was also a day where an elaborate meal was prepared, which was probably a distant memory of the special Purim meal that their ancestors had eaten back in Spain or Portugal.

As for why Queen Esther was chosen as the symbol of Purim, and not her uncle Mordechai, who was the leader of the Jewish people at that time, the answer is simple. Esther had to keep her Jewish identity a secret in the royal palace; but once the wicked Haman put into motion his plan to annihilate the Jewish people, her life, too, was in great danger. Queen Esther therefore became an inspiring role model for the Anusim, both for her courageousness and because she also was a Hidden Jew.

These Days of Purim ...

Although much of their Jewish heritage was lost over the centuries, the Anusim never forgot their connection to Queen Esther. And so in one way or another -- and in unexpected places such as New Mexico or Peru -- the words of the megillah are still being fulfilled: “These days of Purim will never leave the Jews, nor will their remembrance ever be lost from their descendants.”



This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/jw/s/83867402.html

by Rabbi Yonason Goldson

It's the little details that count.
Rabbi Yossi used to say: Any person who honors the Torah will himself be honored before others. But any person who disgraces the Torah will himself be disgraced before others. (Ethics of Fathers 4:8)

What goes around comes around. As ye sow, so shall ye reap. You made your bed, now sleep in it.

 

The notion of “measure for measure” permeates the world of literature, folklore, and conventional wisdom, tracing its origins back as far as the Book of Judges, wherein the captured Canaanite king Adoni-bezek attributes his treatment by the Jewish conquerors to the way he treated the kings he had once conquered himself.

In fact, this concept is so familiar that the casual scholar might find himself wondering why Rabbi Yossi deemed it necessary to teach this lesson at all.

To appreciate the depth of Rabbi Yossi’s lesson, however, we must momentarily shift our focus away from his overall message and redirect our attention to the most innocuous of words: "any."

The flexibility of Biblical and Talmudic Hebrew allows for multiple, simultaneously authentic layers of meaning. Consequently, although the simplest reading of Rabbi Yossi’s words translates as “any person who honors the Torah,” we might legitimately understand them to mean “a person who honors the Torah in any way.”

 

What constitutes honor and disgrace? In contemplating their definitions, we might reasonably conclude that our mishna refers primarily to grand gestures of one or the other. Donating large amounts of money to Torah institutions, attending lectures by rabbinic leaders or public tributes to Jewish philanthropists, and recognizing Torah scholars by according them the most distinguished honors in synagogue – these seem the kinds of honor of which Rabbi Yossi speaks. Conversely, any public violation of Jewish law or public insult to a Torah personality would constitute disgrace.

But Rabbi Yossi does not limit his messages to these; rather, he alludes to the kinds of practices that, on the surface, seem pedestrian and even mundane. To stand up in the presence of a Torah scroll or a Torah leader; to follow several paces behind the Torah when it is carried through the synagogue; to touch our fingers to its cover and then to our lips as a gesture of devotion; to remain silent and respectful when the Torah is read publicly; to keep ourselves focused and alert when we are learning Torah, whether alone or in the study hall – these are all examples of how we give honor to the Torah.

And what is disgrace? To leave a book of Torah literature open and unattended while we go off to conduct other business; to place a Torah book face down on the table or upside down on the shelf; to sit on a bench or table where books of Torah are resting; and perhaps worst of all, to neglect its study in favor of trivial and meaningless pursuits.

At first blush, our answer appears to strengthen our original question: could not Rabbi Yossi have found a more substantive message than urging us to emphasize minutiae that seem trivial themselves? Can we not better spend our time and mental energy by focusing our attention on larger themes and more universal codes of conduct?

Returning to the Book of Judges, we find a narrative that answers our question with a resounding no!

THE POWER OF PIETY

During the two centuries after their entry into the Land of Israel, the fortunes of the Jewish people had declined until an 18-year long Midianite occupation had left them impoverished and despondent. Responding to the crisis, the Judge Gideon raised an army of 32,000 men – an impressive force, although still dwarfed by the enemy contingent of 135,000.

Despite these odds of four-to-one against, the Almighty informed Gideon that his army was too large and commanded him to send away every man who lacked confidence. 22,000 departed, leaving Gideon and his remaining soldiers outnumbered more than a dozen-to-one.

Yet again the Almighty declared that the army was too large, instructing Gideon to lead his men down to the riverside and observe how they drank at the water’s edge. Those who knelt down or put their faces to the water should be sent away. Only those who reached down their hands to lift the water to their lips should remain. In the end, Gideon was left with an army of 300 men.

To understand the Almighty’s logic, we must first understand why the Jewish people had fallen under the rule of the corrupt nation of Midian in the first place. After settling the land and becoming immersed in the pursuit of material prosperity, the Jews had forgotten how Moses had warned them against attributing the source of their successes to their own prowess and ability. For the nation charged with mission of bringing greater awareness of God to the society of all mankind, such self-indulgence was tantamount to open rebellion.

A conventional military victory by Gideon and his army would inevitably reinforce the Jews’ misconceptions about their own power. Consequently, the Almighty orchestrated a kind of victory that would force the people to recognize that success depends not upon physical strength or military might but on collective merit earned through divine service and spiritual refinement.

Only through miraculous intervention could 300 expect to defeat a hundred thousand, and only the most pious individuals could expect to merit a miracle on that scale. But how was the Almighty’s criteria for choosing soldiers indicative of piety?

The soldiers who knelt down to drink, although certainly not sinful in any way, nevertheless demonstrated a minimal lapse in spiritual sensitivity. On the one hand, bowing down before one’s own image reflected in the water bore the faintest resemblance to idolatry; on the other hand, putting one’s face to the water to drink bore the slightest resemblance to the behavior of an animal.

 

This does not imply that the soldiers who knelt down to drink had done anything wrong. But an individual sufficiently pious to merit a miracle as extraordinary as that which would save the Jews had to possess such an acute and constant awareness of the divine spark within him that he could never bring himself to commit any act that even resembled idolatry or animalism.

THE REWARDS OF REFINEMENT

Under cover of night, Gideon led his 300 warriors to the perimeter of the Midianite camp. There he waited for the changing of the watch, when the recently awakened guardsmen would not yet be fully alert, thereby producing the maximum potential for confusion. Positioning themselves at intervals, Gideon’s men awaited a prearranged signal, then blew their shofars and held their torches high, creating the illusion of a vast attack force sweeping out of the darkness.

The Midianite soldiers at the edge of the camp panic and fled from their imagined attackers, while the soldiers further in concluded that those racing toward them were the enemy. In the darkness, comrades slew one another until the morning light revealed that all but 15,000 had been killed, with those survivors having taken flight and scattered.

The way one bends down to drink water may seem a trivial detail. Nonetheless, when we give our full attention to the minute details of our lives, we cultivate the same kind of refinement and sensitivity through which Gideon’s army merited their miraculous victory on behalf of the Jewish people. Little acts of respect make us more respectful people, which leads us to become models of respect, which gains us respect in the eyes of all who are able to discern genuine quality of character.

And so Rabbi Yossi comes to teach us that by treating the Torah with honor in every way, small and large, we transform ourselves into people who will not only inspire others to honor us but will be truly worthy of their honor. And conversely, by neglecting even the most seemingly trivial expressions of honor, we bring disgrace upon the Torah and, ultimately, upon ourselves.

Either way, we end up sleeping in the bed we make.



This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/sp/pg/83524782.html

by Riva Pomerantz A young Jewish man gets ensnared in the welcoming community of Jews for Jesus.



The warmed, recycled air of the plane was like a tunnel between two tundras, Misha Kapilov* reflected as he disembarked. Gone were the sights and sounds of the life he had left behind, first in Kiev, then in Israel.

Bienvenue au Canada read the sign as the frigid air pulled him into the terminal with an urgency. Passport control. Luggage. Waiting area. And there she was: Aunt Katya*. Smiling, waving vigorously, and very welcoming, she eagerly stepped forward to take her 17-year-old immigrant nephew under her wing. All Misha really knew about his father’s sister was that Aunt Katya had “converted” to Christianity, but his ambiguous understanding of religion made his aunt’s choice a complete non-issue.

As they drove down the broad highways of Toronto, Misha reveled in his newfound destination. The scenery was different here; the air rich with promise. The houses were beautiful and spacious. He had come to Canada to seek his fortune, and find it he would.

There was a large pot of soup waiting on the stove in Aunt Katya’s modest two-bedroom apartment, and a bed turned down especially for her nephew. They sat down to eat and Misha became aware of keen eyes watching him. And then, gently but bluntly, Aunt Katya lay down the house rules. One rule, actually, stunningly simple:

“If you believe in and pray to Jesus, then you are welcome in my home,” she told him.

The converse was glaringly implicit.

It wasn't her demand to believe in Christianity that was untenable, it was the demand that he believe in any God at all. Misha Kapilov had a big problem. Up until now, religion had been a rather trivial chapter in his life. Russia certainly hadn’t offered him anything of faith, and his brief year in Israel had only served up a large helping of hypocrisy and cynical anti-religious indoctrination. If he found Aunt Katya’s terms untenable it was not because she was demanding his belief in Christianity, but because she was demanding that he believe in any God at all, a repulsive offense to Misha’s self-proclaimed atheism.

But free room and board was nothing to sneeze at for an immigrant boy fresh off the boat. So he promised he’d try and, like a good little nephew, he grudgingly accompanied Aunt Katya to… synagogue.

Well, at first glance it certainly looked like a synagogue, with a rabbi cloaked in a tallit and one of those arks that housed the Torah scrolls like he blurrily remembered seeing once as a child. There were congregants with skullcaps and prayer books, and everyone wished him “Shabbat Shalom” and stayed to shmooze afterward during kiddush. Young Misha was pleasantly surprised by the warm atmosphere and the after-services get-togethers where the friendly community made him feel welcome and invited him to come back again the next week.

Misha thought it was odd how Aunt Katya, a professed Christian, permitted herself the sacrilegious practice of praying in a synagogue. But her strange practice was soon resolved when he came to understand that “Yeshua HaMashiach,” abundantly referred to in the prayer texts and other parts of the “synagogue” service was none other than Jesus, father of Christianity. He was surprised and a bit aghast. After all, hadn’t Papa told him that Jews didn’t believe in Jesus?

It didn’t take long till dear Aunt Katya threw him out of her house forever, in disappointment over his failure to “believe.” But Misha continued to attend Sabbath services at Congregation Melech Yisrael on Ranee Avenue on his own -- if just for the sense of belonging. Very soon he became a valued member of the “synagogue.” It satisfied his craving for friendship and closed the hole of loneliness. With sincere and loving persistence, Misha’s fellow congregants demonstrated to him how Jews were meant to believe in Yeshua., bringing "proof" from Messianic texts. With time, the former atheist became a passionate advocate of these Jews for Jesus.

An Unexpected Invitation

Parkdale was once populated by the wealthy upper-class. Today, it has the faded look of an expensive ball gown left crumpled in a garbage bin for many years, with cats and rodents nesting in its once-delicate hems. The crumbling apartment complexes tower above the dank alleyways where pursuits of a variety of illicit activities are the norm. Crime is to Parkdale as salt is to soup; a diverse landscape of immigrants, panhandlers, and a motley group of patients released from the psychiatric hospital that closed its doors a number of years ago.

Toronto’s Parkdale district was not the fortune Misha had sought. Having been exiled from Aunt Katya’s, he found himself trapped in the seedy but affordable slums. Misha wanted out, and intervention from a Power he did not yet fully comprehend obliged.

“You’re looking for an apartment?” a friend of his parents from the Old Country asked, when they bumped into each other one day. He scratched his chin. “I know someone with an apartment for rent. I’ll give you her number.” And that’s how Misha met Mr. and Mrs. Sheiner*.

“You looking for an apartment?” Olga Sheiner peered at the tall, skinny boy before her with a mixture of dismay and motherly affection, her Russian-accented English thick like the fragrant smells that wafted from her kitchen on this Friday afternoon.

Misha dutifully took a tour of the basement apartment but with disappointment he realized that his ticket out of Parkdale was not located at this particular address.

“Thank you,” he told Mrs. Sheiner, “But it’s not for me…”

She nodded with disapproving approval. He was on his way out the door. They would likely never meet again. It was Friday afternoon. He was a Jewish boy, that much was apparent. Should she reach out to him? Would he spurn the offer? Would it even matter? She wiped her hands on her apron and shrugged inwardly. It was a long shot, but so was David’s when he attempted to defeat the giant Goliath.

“Y’know, it’s Friday afternoon,” Olga said. “You’re already here in my house. Why don’t you stay for Shabbos?”

A look of surprise crossed the teenager’s face. Stay for the entire Shabbos with this obviously religious couple? Rather absurd. But how could one argue with the tempting scents that emanated from the stove, and his miserable flat in Parkdale made the modest Sheiner home look like a palace. Besides, a full Shabbos together would enable him to proselytize to these noble yet uninformed Jews about the beauty and dazzling truth of ‘Yeshua.’ Misha nodded his consent.

They almost choked on their soup, but the Sheiners contained their horror. Over golden chicken soup and crisp potato kugel, the Sheiners were treated to a fifth course -- on Messianic Judaism. Earnestly, Misha explained to them how essential it was for Jews to believe in the Christian “savior” in order to be forgiven for their sins and to ensure their share in the World to Come.

They almost choked on their soup, but the Sheiners contained their horror. Calmly and patiently they explained to a surprised Misha that they were quite comfortable in their current belief system and were not interested in adding another deity to their lives. They did not berate him, engage him, or laugh at him. Misha left that Saturday night with a full stomach and an intriguing invitation to meet a friend of the Sheiners who, they said, was potentially interested in the “wares” he peddled.

The Anti-Missionary

Julius Ciss is a man you don't forget. The only thing more towering than Julius’ six-foot-six height is his gentle presence and affable love of all Jews. Julius founded Jews for Judaism, the anti-missionary organization in Toronto several years after he, himself, was saved from the clutches of a deep, five-year involvement with the very same Congregation Melech Yisrael that Misha attended. It was this gentle giant whom Olga Sheiner urgently contacted as soon as Misha left her house.

“You must get in touch with this boy,” she told Julius, “or he will be lost and bring others down with him.”

Julius was hesitant. In his line of work he had seen enough to know that true counter-missionary success only came from those who initiated contact on their own, expressing interest in hearing the other side of the story. By calling Misha directly he was worried that the young man would be put off and an opportunity would be squandered. But Olga persisted.

“You’ve got to call him,” she ordered. “He’ll never call you.”

So Julius called Misha.

The two spoke for many hours and the conversation was pleasant, and thought-provoking. Julius talked to Misha about his aspirations, his friends, and his experiences in Canada, and he took a genuine interest in Misha’s wellbeing. The two definitely clicked.

Eventually, the conversation drifted to Misha’s belief in Christianity. Julius’s approach was non-threatening and non-judgmental. He didn’t want to come on too strong; all he wanted was to push the door open a crack to ensure further conversations. He spoke with Misha about the importance of being intellectually honest about his decision to embrace Christianity. Julius talked about the paramount importance of making an informed decision in every area of life. “When you cross the street, you don’t just look one way; you look both ways! How much more so if you cross a spiritual street,” he said.

Jews who embrace Christianity seldom ask themselves why Judaism rejects the Christian claim that Jesus is the messiah. Julius told Misha that Jews who embrace Christianity seldom ask themselves why Judaism rejects the Christian claim that Jesus is the messiah. Misha agreed that he didn’t actually know the Jewish perspective on belief in Jesus. Julius invited him meet later that week to talk about it and to learn more. Misha was intrigued with his gentle but on-target arguments, and agreed to explore the issue further.

Before he called again, Julius embarked upon a furious mission: to find Misha an apartment. He knew that finding a healthy Jewish environment where Misha would feel nurtured and supported was key in giving him the chance to leave his messianic community.

A New Home

Iris and Harold Kaufman*, parents of five, are legendary in the Toronto community for their hospitality, tzedakah, and boundless kindness. Their warm, easygoing personalities -- not to mention their vacant, beautiful basement apartment for rent -- made them ideal candidates for taking in Misha. Even better, Harold was very active with Aish HaTorah -- which meant he could introduce Misha to the vibrant Aish community in Toronto.

It was not a simple decision for the Kaufmans to take in a young, messianic teenager. Far from being a tenant, Misha would become part of the family, where the impressionable minds of the five Kaufman children, similar in age to Misha, would be subjected to his devout messianic doctrine. But after careful deliberation and consultation with their rabbi, Iris and Harold gave Julius the green light and a joyful Julius notified Misha that he’d found him the greatest apartment ever. Misha soon became a well-integrated part of the Kaufman family. Misha had finally found a true home.

What ensued was a battle for truth. Misha describes it like this: “I would tell Julius what the people at the Jews for J synagogue were teaching from their proof texts. Julius would refute it. I would go back to my people with Julius’ refutations and they would counter-refute what Julius was saying. These I would take back to Julius to see what he had to say about them. But Julius had all the answers.”

Like a buoy fighting the undertow desperately trying to touch the sky, Misha fought bravely through the doctrine he had been taught and the diametrically opposed belief system Julius offered him. And like that indomitable buoy, Misha emerged victorious.

It was difficult for his friends at Congregation Melech Yisrael to see him slip away after all the time, effort, and genuine friendship they had invested in him. Especially at the hands of one of their former members! When the messianic rabbi ran out of answers with which to refute Julius’s convincing arguments, he fixed Misha with a penetrating look and warned him, “That Julius is the devil.”

“That Julius is the devil.” This grim statement, intended to strike fear in the heart of the conflicted boy, backfired and had a rebound effect. Misha had come to know Julius very well -- as a person and as a counter-missionary, and he was quite certain that the kind and loving Julius was far from the devil. He realized that the messianic rabbi had come up against a brick wall. And so had Misha who decided to begin a new chapter in his life.

Misha enrolled in CHAT, a local Jewish high school, and began learning more about his heritage. Today, Misha lives with his wife, Rachel* and their two children, in the Toronto community where he is an active member of Aish HaTorah. He has helped Julius in his anti-missionary activities and speaks freely of the incredible Divine providence that brought him from a steep, slippery slope to the joyous pinnacle of observant Judaism.

For Misha, all it took was a hesitatingly proffered Shabbos invitation to launch a dramatic transformation in his life and future descendants. God’s mysterious ways often involve His creations -- regular, ordinary, busy people who rise to the challenge and reach out to others. One act of kindness can forever alter another person’s destiny.

* Only names designated by asterisks have been changed.

Julius Ciss is an Aish HaTorah alumnus. He can be reached at Jews for Judaism julius@jewsforjudaism.org in Toronto, Canada.



This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/sp/so/82882642.html

Check out www.VoteFc.com to give $1million to the Friendship Circle, an amazing group that helps children with mental and physical special needs.  Check out the website, it takes 20 seconds to vote and you can help them win 1 million dollars! 

by Rabbi Dr. Asher Meir, Business Ethics Center of Jerusalem
Q. A lot of copyrighted material is available on YouTube and other free sites. Is it permissible to download these clips?

A. YouTube was conceived primarily as a site where ordinary people could upload personal creations for public viewing. However, from the very beginning commercial content also made its way onto the site. This content is of a few varieties:

1. Some content is intentionally or willingly placed by content owners as a promotion. For example, CBS has a partnership program with YouTube through which some of their material appears on the site. It is obvious that there is no ethical obstacle to enjoying this material.

2. Some content is surreptitiously put up in order to circumvent copyright owners. Copyright owners have the right to protest at any time if they find their material on the site and it is promptly taken down. But realistically, there are hundreds of millions of clips and it may take time to detect and remove them. In the meantime, a viewer may find clips which he can be sure are copyright material. Here also the answer is obvious: a person shouldn't download stolen content just because he managed to squeeze in between the time it was illegally uploaded and when it was removed.

3. Some content the copyright owners have just given up on. Because of the effort involved in flagging pirated content, and the additional effort involved in removing it if the poster claims that it is legal (for example, under fair use laws), content owners are compelled to choose their battles and concentrate on their efforts on the most serious breaches. Here we have an interesting ethical question.

The Talmud discusses an interesting parallel case:

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chanania said: In all my days, no one ever get the best of me besides one woman, one boy, and one girl. . . . What of the girl? Once I was traveling on the way and there was a path through a field, and I was walking on it. A little girl said to me: Rabbi, isn't that a field? I said to her, "No, it is a cleared path." She said to me, "Bandits like you cleared it." (1)

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chanania was correct. At the time he traversed the field, the way was already a cleared path and did no damage to the crops. However, the girl was also correct. There was a first person who went through the field. That first person did only slight damage to the crops. He probably didn't think of himself as a "bandit". But the next time a person wanted to take a shortcut, that person noticed that someone has already cut through this field, and there was a way that was a bit easier, and a bit less destructive, than cutting straight through the crops. The second person would probably never have dreamed of just stomping through someone's field, but after all, now there was already a passage and besides, someone else had already been through..

By the time Rabbi Yehoshua went through, there was really no benefit from refraining, yet formally speaking he was the latest in a series of trespassers who effectively stole that piece of land from the field's owner (presumably the girl's family).

I don't think that the passage is suggesting that Rabbi Yehoshua did something actually forbidden. In the other stories (the woman and the boy) he does things which are insensitive but not quite improper. But it reminds us how often we may be beneficiaries of wrongdoing, and in particular reminds us how serious the first, seemingly innocent breach is.

Once a video clip is firmly ensconced on YouTube, it is fair to assume that it is legal, and you can view and download it (if there are no notices to the contrary). However, the Talmudic sages alert us to the particular seriousness of leading the charge by pushing out the envelope of infringement, for example uploading material which previously was taken down but right now finds the owners too busy or burdened to respond.

SOURCES: (1) Babylonian Talmud Eiruvin 53b



This article can also be read at: http://www.aish.com/ci/be/80401402.html