"See me, feel me, touch me, heal me!"

Yom shishi, 20 Tamuz 5771.

I mentioned on Shiv'a Asar b'Tamuz that I had a friend who was feeling literally rejected by the people around her, simply because they would not smile at her, nor respond to her greeting of "Shabbat shalom."

Since then, I have heard other stories that cause me much pain, from around Israel and outside Israel.

• A young newlywed I know tells me she will never become religious.  "I went to an Orthodox shul a few times, to try to learn about Judaism.  I had stopped wearing pants; but I couldn't get used to the idea of covering my hair.  I asked the way to the women's section.  A man in a big black velvet yarmulke looked at my hair, and said 'You're probably the type who is more comfortable sitting next to her husband in shul.'"  Clearly, he judged her by what was not on her head, just as I find myself judging him by what was on his.
• A rabbi gives a shiur on a controversial subject.  Only a handful of people bother to show up.  As they are all Anglos, and one elderly woman has trouble understanding Hebrew, the rabbi chooses to break his usual pattern, and give the lesson in English.  Fifteen minutes into his lecture, a native Israeli (who is fluent in both languages, and who also disagrees with the rabbi's stand on the issue under discussion), walks in, and demands that the shiur be given in Hebrew, since we're all in Israel.
• A boy asks a philosophical question in class; and his rebbi -- followed by the students -- laughs at him.  The boy resolves never again to ask another question, because his questions are stupid.  It takes him years to develop self-confidence.  He still lacks confidence in the Torah educational system -- because of one moment and one rabbi.

There are many more stories like these; but my objective in writing them here is not to tell titillating tales about my people's failings.  The stories are meant to shake us up, to shake me up!  To remind us to listen to ourselves, to look at ourselves.

Do I get so wrapped up in my own thoughts and worries, or in a call on a cell phone, that I fail to notice the Jew passing by long enough to smile?

Do I decide that someone is "less Jewish" because of how she is dressed?  Is she somehow less worthy of dan l'chaf zechut, or at least of me guarding my tongue, than someone who has mastered wearing "the uniform"?

Do I sometimes forget that I represent Torah, and must think before I speak, lest I cause a Jew to think badly of people who "know more Torah"?

Do I show rabbis the respect that they are due?  Am I careful to criticize an opinion with respect, and never the person?

Do I remember to look around me at all of the people in the room, and think of what their needs might be?  Or do I only concentrate on my own needs?

Do I remember to make bridges between Jews?  Or do I carelessly, flippantly, put stones in the walls between us?

Do I encourage people to speak?  Or do I spend too much time filling the airwaves with my own words?

Do I pursue truth?  Or do I only spout platitudes or verses that others have stated before me, without thoughtful analysis? 

Do I listen to the searching question of a child or a ba'al tshuva or a friend with my whole self, or only with my ears, waiting for an opportunity to show them how much more I know than they (chas v'shalom)?

The world is in a terrible crisis right now.  We are all lost, alone, frightened, desperately needful of acceptance from each other.

I cannot say that by smiling at every random Jew I meet on the street I will save the lives of my friends who are suffering life-threatening illnesses, or that the answer will come from listening patiently or doing a kindness or living in Israel (for anyone who thinks that is the answer) or doing more mitzvot more diligently (for anyone who thinks G-d is mad at us for lacking attentiveness to His laws).

But Torah and our Sages -- both ancient and modern -- stress the need for kindness to each other.  We cannot know the mind of G-d.  I have a hard time relating to G-d as a King, or as something fear-inspiring.  (I'm working on it...)  But I can begin to relate to G-d Our Father, from my standpoint as a parent.

When my children are mean to one another, it enrages me.  I come as close as possible to "losing it," when they are hurtful to each other.

But when my children are kind to each other, when they "cover" for each other or help each other -- I can forgive them any slight against me.  

I think Hashem must be like this toward us.  While we must certainly do His mitzvot to the very best of our ability, while it is a shandeh if we ignore His gift of this holy and amazing Land, I cannot help but think that wherever we are in the world, treating each other much, much better than we do now might cause Him to change how nature and nations are treating us.

I don't know about you, but I'm tired of fasting for the Churban.  I'm tired of watching the world crumbling around me.  Most of all, I'm tired of saying goodbye to friends, and fearing more goodbyes.

I'm going to smile more, listen more closely, think about the wisdom of my words before I say them.  Please help me.

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Stella's Sunrise (taken on an early walk with my friend)

I have found that it's easier to daven with kavana for people when I know them.  Please feel free to get to know my friend Tzuriya Kochevet bat Sara in this lovely interview, posted at her husband Yarden's blog Crossing the Yarden.  I think you will love her as much as I do.  And that can only help your davening, and help to save the world.

Glossary:

Shiv'a Asar b'Tamuz: the 17th of Tamuz: a fast day commemorating the Destruction of the Temple

Shiur: lesson (esp. in Torah studies)

Dan l'chaf zechut: the commandment to judge favorably

Ba'al tshuva: individual becoming more religious

Chas v'shalom: Heaven forbid

Mitzvot: commandments, good deeds

Shandeh: a shame [Yiddish]

Churban: destruction of the Holy Temple in 586 BCE

"Okay, People. Settle Down!"

Yom chamishi, 27 Shevat 5770.

I'm not given to ranting.  But I've had something on my mind for a while that I need to say.  I'll be happy to hear your opinion.

Would it be too much to ask that we get off each others' backs?

Let's start with a couple of short examples.

Plony, living in the United States, tells his friend, "You will destroy your teenager if you move her to Israel.  She will have trouble adjusting to the language, to the culture, to having less -- and she will hate you forever."

Plonit, living in Israel, tells her sister in the US, "People who refuse to make aliyah have no G-d!  Look it up in the Talmud.  It says that it's as if you worship idols!"

There are many stories on both sides of the equation colored by verbal abuse and discouragement.  As if either side can know what is going on in the hearts and minds and lives of those on the other side.

It reminds me of the debate that raged throughout my child-rearing years over which was superior:  being a stay-at-home mom, or being a working mom.  By the time each side got done talking over the other, mothers on both sides of the argument felt like losers.

Since it is impossible for us to know G-d's mind, I wonder if it wouldn't be more helpful if people validated each others' choices, instead of sabotaging each others' efforts to live healthy, productive lives.

People who want to take on the challenge and the dream of making aliyah should be encouraged for their noble goals, rather than dissuaded by "modern-day meraglim."

People who have made other choices have unshakable reasons -- at least at this time -- and shouldn't be verbally battered or belittled.  Besides, they have plenty of rabbis on their side of the argument, too.

We recently read in Parashat Beshalach that Moshe is instructed by Hashem to strike a rock, causing it to produce water for the Jews.  Later, in Parashat Chukat, Moshe again will strike a rock to bring forth water for the complaining masses, and will be punished for it by not being allowed to lead the Jewish people into the Holy Land.  Years ago, I heard one of those paradigm-shifting Torah explanations from Rabbi Ephraim Becker.  I'm paraphrasing, and any errors in transmission are mine.

Rabbi Becker asks why Moshe Rabbeinu was punished so severely for striking the rock.  After all, he was justifiably angry -- and not on his own behalf, but on Hashem's.  Which of Moshe's grandchildren, in our day and age, cannot feel defensive of our great teacher for this seemingly excusable lapse in patience?  Rabbi Becker explains that Am Yisrael had finally climbed back to the level of kedusha from which we had fallen since the time of Adam's chet.  In other words, if Moshe merely had spoken to the rock, the rock would have obeyed.  And the Jewish people would have come to the conclusion that if a rock can listen to G-d, surely we can.  And we would have been spiritually able, at that moment, to cross back to that exalted level of holiness as a nation.  From there, we would have been one tiny step to returning to Gan Eden...  and to Eternal Life.

But Moshe struck the rock.  And we all understand that in the short term, one can beat obedience into anybody.

We lost that moment for collective salvation.

And now we must crawl and scratch our way back up a mountain of spiritual scree to that moment of possibility as individuals, blind to a clear path, with decreasing guidance with every succeeding generation...

According to Rabbi Becker, for this error in judgment was Moshe kept from entering the Land.

We don't know what G-d wants.  We can only learn as much as possible, and strive -- individually and collectively -- to understand.

And it is my humble opinion that Hashem would be more proud of us for supporting each other than for cornering the market on The Right Answer.

Glossary:
Plony: the "John Doe" of Talmudic discourse; Plonit is my feminine version
Meraglim: the spies who gave a bad report of the land of Caanan, convincing the people that they could not successfully take the land -- even though G-d had brought them to it for that purpose (and would presumably back their effort)
Parashat Beshalach, Parashat Chukat: specific weekly readings from the Five Books of Moses
Moshe Rabbeinu: Moses, our Teacher
Am Yisrael: the nation of Israel
Kedusha: holiness
Chet: sin (the chet of Adam refers specifically to his decision to eat from the forbidden fruit)
Gan Eden: the Garden of Eden

Okay, Benjie.  I used your title.  Happy?

You are so special!

Yom sheni, 20 Adar 5769.

This sweet film by Kurt Kuenne is SO worth 16 and a half minutes of your time. Enjoy!



Hat tip to Tamar Yonah.