Dear Friends,

A young man who was a “dyed-in-the-wool” yeshiva bachur entered a telephone booth (ask your great grandparents what this means). He noticed that someone had left a small address book on the shelf under the phone. Losing a phone book is a disaster. The only thing I can compare it to is losing your phone…

He decided to take off a slice of his day to make whatever he had to do in order to return it to its owner. He looked through the numbers and noticed that one of them was under the heading Mom.  He called the number and was met with a great deal of suspicion. "Who are you? Why do you need to reach my daughter?" He explained what happened (using various rephrasing) until she finally got it.  He offered to give her his number, so that her daughter can contact him without his getting her number. He offered to mail her and let her send it on to her daughter. The truth finally came out. She didn't know her daughter's number or address. She was out of contact. It began with her daughter's becoming religious, and her cutting her out of her life in the hopes that her daughter would chose her over the new lifestyle she adapted. It didn't happen. Her daughter wasn't as resilient as she wished. After enough rejections, she stopped reaching out. All her mother knew was that she had moved to another address.

After trying several more numbers, he tracked her down. The conversation was more complex than he had imagined that it would be. The result was that the mother and daughter renewed their relationship. The next step was the mother rethinking her relationship to Torah Judaism. She had bought into every stereotype the media had shot in her direction. The young man opened her eyes to recognize that he didn't do what he did in spite of his allegiance to Torah, but because of it. No, the story doesn't end with a shidduch; after mailing the address book, the young man was basically out of the picture. It ends with both the mother and daughter re-learning the basis of their relationship.

One of the mitzvot in this week's Parshah is returning lost objects. Ohr HaChaim explains that whenever a Jewish person is lost, it is a mitzvah to return him to his Owner. The verses tell you "don't act as though you don't see", and "take it home". This is telling you more than the mitzvah of helping someone else find their way back. It is telling you that no one is fated to stay lost; Hashem doesn’t despair of the possibility of return, only we do.

Rosh Hashanah is coming soon. It is a time for return. It isn't the time for asking forgiveness for sin; that is Yom Kippur. It's a time to stop feeling alienated. Hashem is truly, both Avinu, our Father, and Malkeinu, our King. He knows you intimately from before you knew yourself, and His decrees determine the course of your life minute by minute. He created the world for you, and your choice to acknowledge His presence in your life can be transformational. You won't be lost; even in difficult moments you will know that He is there with you, challenging you to be the person you have yet to discover.

This will be a short letter (for a change!). Tomorrow, G-d willing Bnos Avigail the new seminary that Rabbi Kass and I are involved in will be opening, and simultaneously (although not planned that way) my new book, "Return" which is about self-change, will be coming out. Sooo, this is it for now.

All the best always,
Tziporah

Dear Friends,

I went to an unusual shiva yesterday. Sarah Siderson who studied in the Moreshet program had recently gotten engaged. She was authentic success story; after finishing Moreshet, she got a credential and actually was teaching in the Israeli system. Her death was swift, unanticipated, and an undisguised tragedy.

I wasn’t that close to her, and hadn’t kept up at all in recent years. Nonetheless, when Rabbi Kass told me what happened I felt like it was almost a physical blow. I couldn’t even begin to think about how her family took it in. It was only after I had been to the shiva, and later heard more about what had happened there from Mrs. Kass, that I could see anything beyond the event itself.

The family lived in Edmonton (what? You don't know anyone from Edmonton? Isn’t it the Flatbush of Canada?). They had previously lived in Montreal, which is where their lives began to change. It was Chanukah, and Chabad had erected a large menorah. It grabbed them in the deepest sense, and something about it demanded that they find out more about what being Jewish is about. The “I am what I do” definition that so many people settle for wasn't good enough anymore... Even after moving to Edmonton, the family became closer and closer to the Torah and to living with Hashem moment by moment. Sarah was the first girl in Edmonton to come to Israel to seminary. Suddenly when it looked like the happy ending to her story was about to happen, it was all over. Her mother's comfort is that she died happy and with a sense of completion. Instead of the bitterness that so many others might have chosen, she chose an entirely different way of responding, one that was focused on her daughter's life's fullness, rather than her own loss. "Hashem's love for us is the only thing that is getting us through this all," the father said both at the funeral and at the shiva. "We are proud to be baalei tshuvah".

Death is a great teacher. I learned this when I was a child.

Growing up in Flatbush had many advantages that I only appreciated much later. In those days the neighborhood was defined by its large number of non-orthodox Jews. They were by and large more than happy to identify as Americans who happen to be Jewish, rather than as Jews who live in America. The narrative that their kids grew up with was that being a good person and succeeding were life's twin goals. Judaism was useful to the degree that it brought you closer to achieving these elusive ideals. Most of the kids got there; we were good people who believed strongly in living successful lives (and for some of us who grew up in the sixties, success was only number two-on the short list of goals that was engraved on our hearts from as long as we remembered ourselves. ’Meaningful” became the most popular substitute for "successful"). One of the rather macabre pleasures that I had as a child was exploring the non-Jewish cemetery that I passed on my way to Flatbush Avenue, the shopper's paradise of that era. Reading the epithets told me about what was important at the end. Some of the lines were clichés, others were whimsical. They were like the first episode in an unending soap opera, Why was Mary Elizabeth "unforgettable". What made the folks who wrote, "A better match was never hatched" on Vincent's tomb have in mind? On the rare occasions that we visited the Jewish cemetery in Riverside, the epithets evoked deeper questions. "What is "the bond of life"? Why did non-observant Jews care where they were buried?

In this week's Parshah, Ki Teitzei, one of the mitzvot involves the way the Torah demands that we treat the dead. Even someone convicted and executed was properly buried. Although after his execution, his body was hung, the Torah explicitly says to cut down his body and bury him. Rashi gives you a beautiful parable. There were twins. One grew up to become a government minister and the other became a highwayman. Eventually the thief was sentenced to death and hung. When people saw him, they said, "the minister was hung!" because he looked exactly like his brother. The meaning of the parable is that every human being is in G-d's image. There are people who commit such atrocities that you can find yourself wondering whether they are genuinely human. Step back. Think more deeply. The reason that you are horrified by their atrocities is that you have expectations from humans. You wouldn't feel revulsion if an animal were to cause a brutal and painful death to your fellow human being. You know very well that there isn't such a thing as an evil tiger or a heartless inhuman bear. Animals are animals. It's only human beings who are in G-d's image who awaken moral outrage. When you think of a person as being a clever animal, you have lost track of the Divine image within him. The body is finite. It needs to be buried to release the soul. Even the worst Jew still has the Divine image in exile within him, and once his body is buried in the ground, will eventually find rectification in the world to come.

The person you chose to be is revealed at the end of your story. Once you come to terms with this, your definition of success and failure changes. 

Adam was given an assignment. Conquer the earth! Face the concealment and prevail over its limitations. Don't be crushed by it! He was told that he is there to "Work it and guard it". Chazal say that the "work" is spiritual. The positive mitzvot that gives your soul expression is what "work" is really about. Guarding against self-diminishment means that you have to keep the negative mitzvot. To give your mission here challenge and meaning, Ohr HaChaim tells us, Hashem sometimes sends you to a place of profound darkness in order to give you a chance to explore and discover your life's true purpose and ride with it. This may mean not only seeing a menorah, but letting it speak to you like Sarah's family did. Look at where Hashem "planted" you and look for meaning and purpose there. This is what life is really for; this is the only definition of real success that lasts.

Don't think that you already arrived.

Teshuvah means return. Even the greatest tzaddik is commanded to do teshuvah - it's one of the 613 commandments. Hashem is infinite, you can always discover more, and move further.
 
Enjoy the rest of Elul. Have wonderful trip upward.

 
As ever,
Tziporah
 
P.S. Baruch Hashem, I have just completed a new book called "Return." It is about how to move forward. It will be in the stores in two weeks. You can order it via my website.

Dear Friends,

I came across something that I found very interesting. Notice: I write that I found it interesting. No guarantees… It's about being stuck to the point that you are willing to do anything to start moving, even making a vow, and about how to be less harsh with yourself and your society.

People make vows out of desperation. They really don't trust themselves. This may be coming from a good place, after all, when you come closer to Rosh HaShanah, and begin to ask yourself the hard questions, you may notice that trusting yourself hasn't always worked out well. A vow can be like the white line on the highway; you just don't cross this line. Living without this sort of structure is like being on a road where the line is broken every few feet. You can cross if you trust that you can do it safely. Sometimes you just don't feel all that safe…

In general, making a vow isn't a good idea. We are meant to be able to function with freedom, and not be so afraid of the world.  Just refrain from whatever the Torah tells you is forbidden without making any additions. There are exceptions. A nazir, whose vow is presented in the Torah, makes a vow to refrain from wine, ritual impurity (that comes from contact with the dead), and cutting his hair. Even this kind of vow is not ideal, and for that reason, one of the very great Kohanim, Shimon HaTzadik, always avoided officiating at the conclusion of the nazir's vow. There were exceptions. One exception is a man who saw an execution. Instead of being horrified, he began to obsess on the risks that the convicted criminals took. He realized that to them, it must have been worth taking the risk of death to do what their hearts desired. He recognized that he was wrong; and that had done terrible damage to themselves and to others. The second was a case of a man who came from a desperately poor family. They were so poverty stricken that he never saw his own image, because they didn't own a mirror. One day, when pasturing his father's sheep at a pond, he saw himself and was so infatuated by his appearance that he made a vow to be a nazir.

There is a leniency for women. When a woman makes a vow, her husband may annul it that day. I knew this law for years, and I often pictured the woman being annoyed at her husband. "He should trust her to keep her vow," I thought.  In fact, the Talmud points out; the exact opposite response was far more common.  She would be upset if he didn't annul the vow. Not all vows can be annulled; only those that would cause her to suffer or would impede on their personal relationship. The Gemarra tells us that the woman sometimes would feel that if her husband didn't annul her vow, it means that her suffering or their relationship isn't important to him; she'd be really angry. What kind of vow causes suffering? This is really what I want to talk about.

Suppose in a moment of (fill in the word...) a woman says, "I will never wash any of my clothes". Is wearing dirty clothes real suffering? The answer is "yes". Some maintain that this is even harsher than her saying "I'll never wash my body again"! The Ben Ish Chai, one of my favorite commentators, explains why never washing your clothes is viewed as an agonizing mistake to make. Quoting the Talmud, he says it leads to ennui (sort of toxic boredom) and emotional confusion that is even more agonizing than filth, which in the end can be easily washed away.

In this week's Parshah, the Torah commands the appointment of judges, police, and a monarch. Each one has a specific function. "They are compared to the garments of the entire Jewish people. These roles foster our having a defined identity, just as much as the clothes you wear tell the world how you want them to see you and relate to you.  The judges are to rule according to Torah (and not according to their own personal worldview). The police are to enforce the decisions of the judges (and not define law via force), and the king is meant to set an example of what being a servant of G-d is really about (not being a servant of his party or of his ego). He is required to have a Torah with him at all times, and to be the living  heart of his people."

We live in times when none of these roles are actualized, and we suffer the confusion that societal discord invariably causes". In other words, Ben Ish Chai is telling us what we already know. Our "clothes" are in terrible shape. The laws themselves, the way they are enforced and the example the leaders set are so far from anything real! The confusion is there, and you may feel that being a small individual trying to live by different rules in a corrupt society is just asking for exclusion even mockery.  This is the bad news.

The good news is that everything can change! With Rosh Hashanah approaching, focus beyond yourself and see the confusion that is so much part of life in 5775. You have the opportunity to ask Hashem to, so to speak, annul the vow. The Arizal says that the act of annulment is even higher than the sanctity of a vow. Ask Hashem to change the world. Then it's time to ask yourself to change your mini-world too.

Enjoy Elul, it’s the best and sweetest time of the year,

As ever,

Tziporah 

Dear Friends,

The Parshah at hand really fits the times. Elul is around the corner.

The beginning tells you things as they really are; Hashem presents you with the possibilities of living a life in which you are really alive, or choosing to live a life in which you are dead…The classical definition of death is that nothing at all in someone's body still functions. Spiritual death takes place when nothing is moving forward spiritually. Look back at your life-so many changes take place in early childhood. The difference between a fifteen year old and a twenty five year old is also vast. Is there always that much change that takes place between the ages of thirty-five and forty-five? Odds are you have made many of the life decisions that define your life from the outside. You may have married, began your family, and are already established in your career. What are your plans for the next forty or so years? More of the same? You may be asking, "Why not? If I am happy, why keep on making changes?" this way of thinking takes you to spiritual death. Some people stop "living" far earlier….

Discontent isn't the same as growth. You don't have to be unhappy in order to want to move further. When you go back to your childhood, you may remember how happy you were with each new barrier you were able to knock down. Going to school yourself, choosing your own clothes, learning how to work a computer or to drive were marvelous moments, weren't they? You  are programmed for self-actualization. In fact, so is everything else on the planet. There aren't any birds who can fly who select not to, or any plants that just don't feel like photosynthesizing. The Torah tells you that G-d wants you to choose life. It also tells you to choose blessing over curse. The simplest meaning of the word "blessing" is wishing someone well. This isn't the entire story. The root letters of the word brachah ברכה (blessing) are beit ,ב reish (200) ר and chaff(20 כ). Each letter is the first expansion of its unit. Two is the first number that goes beyond one, twenty the first expansion of the tens, and two hundred the first expansion of the hundreds. By the way, please take notice of my new keyboard that also has Hebrew letters!

Being blessed means being more.

The way the Torah presents you with the instruction to choose uses the word Re'eh, which means See! In the singular. Alsheich points out that the reason for this is that unlike an earthly ruler, Hashem is concerned with the inner reality of each of us not just that in the broadest sense that "the work gets done". One of the problems that some of you face when you are making your way in the Great World, is that you may feel rather invisible. You go to work or to school, attend shul on Shabbos or not, and no one else seems to be effected one way or the other. The people around you may even invite you for Shabbos or a holiday, but if you can't make it, you don't get the figure that they will feel that they missed anything really important.

You are wrong.

When Hashem created vegetation, He made innumerable blades of grass. Each one of them has an angel that stands above it and tells it to grow. Each one of the billions of ants has its own message (those of you who are familiar with Pirkei Shirah, the nature song, will even know what its message is!). Humans are far more unique than anything else in nature is. Your face isn't identical with anyone else's face (even if you are a twin). The inner world that you live in is equally as unique. That's why Hashem began creating humans by forming one individual, not an entire human population. There are roads that only you will walk, choices that only you will make. You are part of a community that is broader and more eternal than the specific "hood" you live in. The give and take of being part of the Jewish People is an indelible part of your identity. When you go to shul, accept an invitation, maintain your ethical principles and standards in the workplace or in school, you are becoming a living blessing. You are effecting the people around you whether they are sensitive enough to feel it overtly, or whether the effect is to subtle form them to recognize it at the time.  You are a giver, even when you think that you are forced by your life circumstances into being the eternal taker. There will be other times in your life, when you feel that you are overwhelmed by other people and their Needs and their Issues. That means for the moment at least that you are in a different role, and have to tap into a different way of drawing down the blessing that your situation opens up to you. A well-known song was composed around one of Rebbe Nachman's works (IN Lekutei MOharan 2:11 and 63).

Know that each shepherd has his own niggun

And each blade of grass has its own song

From the song of the grass, the shepherd's niggun is made….

How beautiful it is to hear their song

To pray with them and serve Hashem with joy

And from the song of the grass, who sing with purity and no thought of reward

Your heart is filled with song and yearns

For Eretz Yisrael, and awakens its light and draws it to you

Enjoy your blessing, choose it and do not be afraid or alone. You never really are, and it is time that you let that realization touch you.

All the best,

Tziporah


N.B. This letter forms the basis for the introduction to the Rebbetzin's Guidebook for Teshuva - 
Coming Soon! Be'ezrat Hashem