Dear friends,
Just one more week and we will be there. Chanukah is so delightful. Its joy is so pure. Don’t you love how the bad guys lost and the good guys won, and left us with so much light that we still see its brilliance. When you also factor in the well-known fact that eating latkes or doughnuts don’t make you fat (or fatter, as the case may be). For one magic week they are calorie free. That’s just a joke in case you were thinking of suing me for malpractice. What could be bad?
Light and war. They don’t form a natural partnership. The Talmud talks about the miracle of the lights; the prayer that is added to the usual daily shmone esre and birkas hamazon takes you back to the war, the persecution, the high stakes, and improbable victory of the righteous few over the evil many.
It’s a story that comes to mind whenever I think about the time that I bought my granddaughter a ball that was simultaneously a globe. The teacher in me demanded that I explain to her how each of the colored shapes are actually pictures of how countries would look if you could get off the world’s surface and see them from space. That would have been more than enough for one day, but no! I had to show her the oceans and the continents. Then she asked me where Eretz Yisrael is. It wasn’t there. At first, I thought that the reason must be that it is just isn’t P.C. for us to exist. Then I realized that the problem wasn’t as sinister as I thought…The reason that there was no little patch of color called Israel was that we are just too small to fit in. There were some barely distinguishable letters not far from Italy, and quite near Saudi Arabia. She was very doubtful when I showed her the point where the letters seemed to emerge. I welcomed her to the ironic reality of Israel. I told her that we live in the most significant country in the world. It’s the one that gave everyone the knowledge that Hashem is there, that He told us how to make ourselves good and how to make the world good. It’s the only country that every other country looks at. It’s still a place of war and light.
She knows about war. She knows that the eighteen-year-old guys in the street are soldiers. She knows that Tehillim are the way we ask Hashem to protect us, and that Torah is the most important thing in the world; she knows about the light.
The way Eretz Yisrael is referred to in the Torah most of the time is Eretz Canaan. The Canaanites were a confederation of seven nations who were descendants of Noach’s third son. When you turn the word into a verb, lihicana it means to submit. The Canaanites evolved as a people who submitted to whatever instincts were in the driver’s seat at the moment.  They were capable of extreme cruelty, greed and the rest of the retinue of evil. The word canaani, however, also means a merchant. That leaves you with the obvious question about how all of these words connect. What commonality is there between the aboriginal inhabitants of Israel, submission, and being a merchant?
Jews are good at business, at least that’s what they say. What being a merchant is all about is coming to the marketplace with your cash or your goods, and leaving with something that’s potentially more valuable. The worst mistake you can make is impulsively spending your investment capital on whatever strikes your fancy. You end up like the moshav in the North who were given hundreds of chickens by the government to enable them to start farming. After several weeks of chicken dinners, they were left without anything. If you come down to the world’s “market” and waste your capacity to emerge a person who has something to show for the eighty-ninety years you were gifted, you are left with nothing. Your capital is your inner longing to make something of yourself. You have a subtle inborn love of G-d that draws you towards everything good, decent, and worthy of your dedication. You also have an inborn awe of G-d’s power that you feel when you say no to whatever you know is demeaning, selfish, egocentric and wrong. If you don’t know how to love, you end up loving the kind of thing that ‘s gone in the moment, like the moshav’s chickens. If you misplace your awe, you end up being afraid of your shadow, and worse still of every person and eventuality. Israel is called Eretz Canaan not only because the Canaanites once lived here. It’s called the Land of the Merchants, because it’s a place where you can find unbelievable bargains. A bit of tzedakah buys you connection. Lighting Shabbos candles give you an eagle’s eye view of reality, and bonds you to the Creator of it all. You can step away from everything that is compromising and get far more than the moment could have given you. You have streets named after the prophets, continued visible miracles. If that’s not a bargain, what is?
You may be wondering what any of this has to do with you if you are living Out There. Whether its L.A., or Panama City, it’s not Israel. Nonetheless, Rebbe Nachman would say, “Wherever I am going, I am going to Eretz Yisrael”. That would mean even in the blood-soaked soil of his native Ukraine, you can find really great deals
The Greeks and their way of thinking still covers everything with such deep darkness that you can’t even see where your choices take you. Chanukah is a time to defeat them. It’s also a time of great light, where the fact that you chose to bring light into dark places makes you into a spiritual Bill Gates. You can also help someone else, a friend, or a relative, or just someone you see at work or in school also find a little light. After all, a bargain is a bargain.
Love,
Tziporah 

​Dear Friends,


It’s awfully easy to fall into lazy thinking. In fact, it’s awfully easy to fall into lazy anything…but that’s another story. There are words that evoke clichés so instantaneously that you fall into lazy thinking before you know what is happening. 


One such word is poverty. As soon as I hear the- word, jump to assumptions that take me into the socio-economic never-never-land of inner- city reality. Conversely, when I hear the word simplicity, I envision a sort the empirical cleanliness that you find in Japanese gardens. I spent this past Shabbos with my Bnos Avigail girls in Bnei Brak, not a place for lazy thinking.


We stayed in Batei Avot, the dormitory that I stayed in when I was in seminary. Hardly anything changed. I found my old room easily. Today a wall divides the room in half, so the girls have more privacy. In my time there were seven of us in the room. Other than that, nothing was substantially different. It was still simple, clean, and utterly at odds with anything more than that.


We davened in both branches of the Ponivitzh Yeshiva; kabbalas Shabbos in one, and maariv in the other. The grand Aron Kodesh was the opposite of simple by anyone’s definition. Ornate, bigger than life, and echoing the centuries that past since it was built, it somehow still was without complication; it fit its purpose, which is giving honor to the Torah. In the purest sense of the word, it was indeed simple. Perhaps because I saw the picture of Rav Shach zatzal standing in front of the ark giving shiur so many times, the perfect wholeness of the image popped up automatically. 


The other branch is in a hall called the Heichal Kedoshim, built to give aliya and honor to the six million. The energy of the tefillah, also was simple in the best sense of the word.


After the seudah we went out to stroll. Bnei Brak lives at night. The streets are full, the aura of Shabbos is everywhere. We visited the home of Rav Yehuda Michal Lefkowitz zatzal, where Rebbitzen Mann, spoke to us about the lives of her grandparents. The two-room apartment was simple by any definition. Because so many people came to ask the Rav for advice or brachos a problem emerged. There was no place for them to wait. Having wait outside was out the question to the Rav and Rebbitzen; human dignity demanded more. They enclosed their porch and installed air-conditioning. Just there-not in the rest of the house. For themselves, they didn’t need to renegotiate the torrid Bnei Brak weather. One of the grandchildren once made an elaborate sign for the door. “Lefkowitz” in mosaic, was too much for them. “First you have the sign. Then the door looks old and shabby, so you need a new door. Then of course the floor tiles have to be replaced. It doesn’t ever really end” was the Rav’s feelings on the matter. They had no room for it…


I recalled a famous tale about Yaakov, Eisov and Yishmael when I heard the story.


Yaakov and Eisov had divided reality between them Yaakov was going to aim for Olam Haba, the future world, and Eisov was going to set his focus on Olam Hazeh, this world. One day, Eisov decided to see whether Yaakov was keeping his side of the deal. He visited Yaakov and saw him sitting down and enjoying a five-course meal! “What’s this about? I thought you were dedicated to Olam Haba?” said Yaakov’s wicked twin and foil. “Today’s Shabbos! Our eating is dedicated to Olam Haba” Yaakov replied. Eisov silently decided to wait and see. The next day he came back, and saw a similar sight. “AHA! I caught you.” Yaakov quietly explained that this is Rosh Chodesh, and a proper celebration is in place. Eisov left, but was still very suspicious. He returned the third night and saw the same scene. Reb Yaakov, surrounded by his sons and students were enjoying still another feast. “We’re having a siyum (a party made when completing a section of the Talmud or other serious study). Why don’t you come to my yeshiva tomorrow? You can start the new section, Bava Metzia, with the rest of us, and before you know it, we will complete it and make another party. Eisov arrived and sat with the students. They began a heated and complex discussion of determining ownership when two people are holding a talis and each one claims it’s his. Soon Eisov felt his eyelids dropping. He really didn’t care. If it was him, he’d just grab it and run. 


Despondent, he headed to Yishmael who was both his father in law and his uncle. He needed to vent, and this took place in the pre-therapy age. ” Don’t worry about a thing. Tell Yaakov that because you know that you won’t be getting Olam HaBa, your enjoyment of Olam Hazeh is compromised, so you are unfairly losing both worlds. Make it worth my while, and I’ll negotiate the deal for you”.  Eisov was ecstatic. “What a deal. You can have everything you want in this world, and you can still get Olam HaBa!” He continued living it up enjoying the kind of life he had been until now. When he died, he was taken to …. hell. “What happened? I made a deal.” The angels told him, “The deal was that you can have one world. You’ve fully enjoyed Olam Hazeh, you received your portion. You don’t have a right to Olam Haba”. 


While of course none of this is true, it makes you think.


There’s another path to simplicity. You can have it all, and have it focused. We also went to the Viznitz Tisch, a huge Chassidic gathering. We were surrounded by well-dressed Chassidic women, countless kids and below in the bais midrash hundreds of Chassidim focused on the rebbe’s words, and following it with inspired songs.


As you know, I love taking you with me on my trips, my dear friends, but this time, let it touch you enough to question why you need all that stuff, and how much of your life you are willing to pay for it.


Love,
Tziporah


PS Mazal Tov! Lele Katz of Bnos Avigail got engaged!

​

Dear Friends,


Yogi Berra, the legendary baseball star of the 50’s and 60’s was famous for his uncanny ability to say things as they almost are. One of his more famous malapropisms was “It aint over till its over”.
Sometimes it doesn’t seem that way. There are children who seem to be born to their fate from the moment they are born or even before. Kids who are born into hostility, pain, poverty and abuse are one group. The other are kids who are born with it all: near-perfect parents, amazing genes, and educational opportunities that other people can only dream of. Of course there are exceptions on both ends, but then again, there is a reason that you would call them “exceptions”.


Was Eisov doomed from day one? His appearance was the key to understanding his nature. He was flaming with aggressive energy, passionate, addicted to adrenalin high from minute number one. Could anyone real think that he was born to the ivory tower? His nature asserted itself even before his birth. For him, pagan temples were like a magnet even in-utero. Maharal explains that the from that time, the drive was irresistible, to him as loving learning was to Yaakov. The challenge was there from the beginning. Challenge and failure, are, however not synonyms. The person he could have become in the face of challenge was far greater than the one he could have been if left unchallenged. This arguably is why Yitzchak was so drawn to him. Yitzchak knew his son’s internal struggles with his own nature. He also knew that victory was possible, and if his higher side would prevail, he would be a spiritual force to contend with.


Like Dovid.


Dovid was Eisov’s doppelganger in many ways. He resembled him physically, and more importantly, he faced identical challenges within himself. The critical difference is that Dovid succeeded in finding a place for his personality. They both were “soldiers” never able or willing to stop fighting and conquering. Dovid was a soldier in Hashem’s army. He was willing to be whatever the situation demanded on Hashem’s terms, and to do whatever Hashem wanted of him. The crown was, so to speak, always on Hashem’s Head. For Eisov everything was different, he fought the good fight, but the goal was always to put the crown of glory on his own head. When they are described both are labeled “red”. Dovid has an additional description. The text tells us that he had “beautiful eyes”. He saw the world with the vision of the Torah scholars of his time, who are called (in Shir HaShirim) our eyes. They see the world through the prism of Hashem’s will. Eventually Dovid himself became the head of the Sanhedrin, the supreme forum of scholars. The Talmud tells us about his day; “The kings of the east and west get up mid-morning. Dovid was up at dawn, and spent his days examining the halachic implications of matters that involve areas of life that others would find vulgar at worst and uncivilized at best.
Who you end up being at the end of the game isn’t determined by what cards you were dealt. It depends on what you do with them, and who you decide to serve.


The culture clash between the two sets of values can’t be resolved. Rome is the cultural heart of everything that Eisov stood for. It is the font of the Western world’s culture. If you still remember the history you learned in High School, you will recall that it really was a history of wars and conquests. Even eras that were entitled “The Age of Exploration”, could have been titled, “The Age of Exploitation”. If you were to take bloodshed out of European history (and American history for that matter) you’d miss out on knights and their shining armor, cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers and more….
If you studied Jewish history, you would find yourself reading about prophets and struggles for identity, Temples and scholars. Persecution and survival, Hope and the search for meaning. The heroes are different heroes, and even the villains are different kinds of villains. King David was an exception to the rule. He was a warrior; but there is a great deal of difference between his inner motivations and those of Richard the Lion Hearted. If Dovid had somehow missed the boat, and fallen into the trap of love of victory, he could/would have been another Eisov. David’s Tefillin open your heart to seeing Hashem and His world through his eyes. 


My soul thirsts for you……in a desolate and weary land.


Eisov also had the ability to find words that reveal his true nature. The Torah tells us that he hunted (with) his mouth. He knew the way to Yitzchak’s heart was asking questions that would leave the impression that he too longs to serve Hashem. “How do you tithe salt?” he knew that you only have to tithe things that grow. One way to understand this is that he wanted to gain Yitzchak’s approval so that he would stay his heir, and inherit Yitzchak’s fortune. Rav Yerucham Levovitz looks at this. He says that Eisov himself didn’t really grasp what a ridiculous question he was asking. To him, all mitzvos were rituals that didn’t really have to be investigated, you do them, but you don’t have to think about them too deeply. Having a superficial attitude to mitzvos, while at the same time having an anything-but passive attitude towards whatever gives him pleasure or status (remember, “pour some lentils into my mouth" How uncouth!) is what Eisov was all about.


By this time, you may be wondering why I am telling you all of this. The reason is that you have choices to make. One is that you don’t want to be Eisov even though you live in an Eisovic (what a word!) era. Superficiality and pretentions are in, as is conquest (in the work place, in the unending race for Who Is More Important when it comes to gender identity (I can wear tefillin too!!), and most tragically of all in family and community life.


Most of the time I choose to be Yaakov. I can’t say that Eisov never raises his (red) head.


What comforts me is that today is a new day, and as Yogi Berra said, “It ain’t over till its over” and after all didn’t, he make the Yankees proud?


Love,
Tziporah