Rabbi Greisman's Blog
The Leafy Seadragon
Since most of our children study out of town, Dobi and I truly enjoy the holidays of Pesach and sukkos, not only because of the holiday but also because we have all our children home for these few weeks. It’s great family time: the little ones enjoy their big brothers and sister and as parents, we just kvell with nachas . (Yes, we try to focus more on the pleasure than on the noise levels or the triple loads of laundry and cooking.)
As everyone was due to leave on Monday, we planned a family horseback riding trip on Sunday, and when canceled due to weather, we scrambled for something to do. We ended up settling on visiting the Exquisite Creatures exhibit at Crystal Bridges.
The show attempts to “reveal the intricate beauty and diversity of nature through three-dimensional works comprised of animal, mineral, and plant specimens arranged in precise, geometric compositions.” It’s a beautiful display and one we thoroughly enjoyed (at least until the little ones got bored of it….)
It usually doesn’t take much to tell apart the animal specimens from the plant and mineral ones. It’s easy to see the difference between a lizard and a seashell, yet a few items were confusing, and it was hard to decide if this was a bug or a rock, or some other unique creature that looked like both a plant and an animal.
Take for example, the leafy seadragon. When I first looked at it, it looked like an interesting plant; but when I took a closer look, I noticed an eye, and when I read the museum label on the side, it confirmed that this was indeed a sea creature that just looked like a plant.
It only looks like a plant, but it is a fish.
‘Don’t just a book by its cover’ is a statement we all heard a thousand times growing up, and ‘do not look at the vessel, rather look at what it contains’ is an important teaching of the Talmud.
This doesn’t only apply to how we view others, this also, and perhaps first and foremost, applies to the way we view ourselves.
When we look at ourselves, we know what is on the inside; yet we often tend to ‘forgive’ ourselves by looking on our ‘outside.’ How many times have we dismissed attempts to do something important or improve something we’re doing by saying ‘I’m too clumsy,’ or ‘I’m not capable,’ ‘I will never get it done’ etc. etc.
We know we have the power to do it, we might be lacking the will. It is critical that we take a close and honest look deep into ourselves and properly analyze what we possess inside of us, and then we must act on it. That defines success.
This week’s Torah portion begins with a statement “Kedoshim Tihiyu.” Generally, we translate that as an instruction, “You should be Holy.” G-d wants each one of us to be holy, to act above and beyond the letter of the law in the way we deal with our physical lives and needs; we should not overindulge in materialism, even when ‘legal and ethical.’ We should be holy and value our spiritual wellbeing and success.
Yet, this verse can also be read as a description or a promise : You WILL be holy, because I, G-d, am Holy.” G-d is telling us that each and every Jew possesses a spark of G-d within themselves and therefore, we are holy.
And if we are holy, we should act holy.
I’ve heard so many Jews tell me over the years statements like “I’m not so religious, this isn’t for me;” or “I am not familiar with this tradition” and many similar lines.
If our holiness was an outcome of what we did, then there might have been different classes of Jews; but our holiness as Jews isn’t a result of our deeds; on the contrary, our deeds are a result of our holiness. If you are born Jewish – you are already holy; and if we are holy, shouldn’t we do something about it? We should live the way G-d wants us to because we are holy.
Wouldn’t it be a pity if a person that has a million dollars in the bank ignores it and lives like a pauper? Or if someone had a great talent but refused to ever put it to use? We would all tell them what a shame it is not to take advantage of the gifts they have.
We all possess a spark of G-d’s holiness, and we are all inherently holy. It’s only rational to make good use of it by doing another Mitzvah today.
Don’t be fooled by the many ‘leaves’ of the seadragon; look out for his eye. Look at yourself in the 'eye' as well, find your inner Jewish spark and when you find it, you will know that you are holy.
Ignition Switch
It was an hour before the Purim party where close to 90 people were scheduled to arrive at the Shul when we noticed that we were out of a few paper goods, so my daughter quickly ran over to Party City to get them, but as she was ready to rush back to Shul, the car wouldn’t start. More accurately, it would start; but wouldn’t stay on once she let go of the key. In her defense, it happened a few times in the weeks prior, but since I was too busy with holiday preparations, I was planning to bring it into the shop right after Purim. Now, however, my hopes that it would last until after the holiday of Purim, were dashed.
When you ignite the engine, it is expected to stay on for as long as you wish to drive. After having the car towed to two mechanic shops (the first one couldn’t fix it,) I learnt that the ignition switch on our car is faulty and turns off the engine as soon as you let go of the key. As I am writing, the car is being worked on and I really hope they can get it fixed.
I’m not telling you this story to simply kvetch (although kvetching can sometimes be fun.) I’m telling it to you because, in one anecdote, this is an issue G-d has been dealing with for far too long.
“I’m on a thirty-day diet; I already lost 21 days,” says the comedian. The way we live our lives often leads us to situations where even when we get inspired, awakened, or motivated to make a healthy lifestyle change or commit to do something noble, the inspiration doesn’t stay with us for too long. The human species isn’t so good at sticking to what it resolves to do, and we quickly default back to our less-than-desirable behaviors. It needs to be something of significant magnitude to keep us at our resolutions for a long time, and a herculean strength of character is required to make lifestyle changes that are permanent.
Our spiritual life reflects our physical one. Throughout our lifetime, we can suddenly feel various spiritual inspirations and awakenings. Without an apparent reason, we feel the need to reconnect with a Jewish custom or generally with our Judaism. We suddenly feel motivated and inspired to become ‘a better Jew.’
We mistakenly call these feelings ‘Jewish guilt.’ In truth, these are ‘pings from Heaven,’ it is G-d sending us signals that He’s thinking of us; it is G-d turning the key in our engine.
These calls are meant to get us excited and involved in our Jewish life, to let our soul’s flame burn brightly. While the ‘turn of the key’ certainly starts our engine, all too often the moment G-d’s hand leaves the key – when the inspiration dissipates – our engine shuts off and the soul once again gets covered up by the nitty-gritty of everyday life.
When King Solomon described the Exodus (Song of Songs 1:4) he writes: “Draw me to You; after You we shall run.” The Chassidic sages have explained this verse to mean, that G-d sent us a signal through Moses, an awakening, and we responded in kind and ‘ran’ towards Him, accepting the Torah and becoming the Jewish nation. We didn’t let that inspiration float away with the wind, we did something about it.
Kind Solomon is telling us that the solution to this problem is to put our engine into drive immediately. When our spiritual engine is ignited – when we feel a Jewish inspiration – we should follow the lead of the Jews of the Exodus and ‘run’ with it. We should do something to anchor that feeling. Our sages promised us that when we put feelings into deeds and translate our spiritual inspirations into actions, they will stick around and last.
So, the next time our engine is started, we should quickly think of a Mitzvah we can do, and then do it immediately. Let’s ‘run’ towards Him, towards our Judaism, towards Shul and towards Jewish activity.
As I learnt this week, running towards a solution is a lot cheaper than having to be towed to it. So let me wish you a Shabbat Shalom and a week of revved up Jewish engines.
Are you 'at home' in Northwest Arkansas
My family and I have called NWA home since 2005. One thing you notice when living in NWA is that for many a Northwest-Arkansan, ‘home’ isn’t Northwest Arkansas.
We live in a world where hiring, firing, promotion and remote-work opportunities occur at dizzying speeds. Many home-buyers' first question isn't if this house the right fit for their family, but rather ‘how fast can I sell this if I have to move next year?’
I know people that have lived here for longer than I did, for whom ‘home’ is still somewhere on the East or West Coast (ok, also the Midwest.)
I get it. If someone’s family was in Brooklyn for six generations it may feel sacrilegious to suddenly call a town in the Ozarks ‘home.’ Words are powerful and shape our feelings, so just referring to our hometown as ‘back home’ feels like we haven’t lost that connection. We haven’t really left.
But this cozy feeling comes with a price tag and in my opinion, one that is too steep. We don’t really start creating a new home, until we have left the old one and only once we realized that this is our new home can we begin building it. We lose out on new connections and opportunities when we don’t emotionally connect with our new home.
This is even more critical and vital when it comes to Jewish life. Jews are creatures of community and we thrive on each other’s strength and support. A single sheet of paper is easily torn, but good luck tearing a ream of paper…. And as long as this place isn’t one’s home, he or she may not feel the need, or may even feel reluctant, to establish Jewish roots for themselves in their new home. It’s a nice thing to keep a shul membership ‘back home’ to support that community, but we should not allow it to prevent us from creating an involved Jewish life at the ‘current home.’ We cannot allow that old connection to become an obstacle in the path of connecting to a local Jewish hub of life.
There is something fascinating taught in this week’s Torah reading. As they journeyed from Egypt to Israel through the desert, the Jews encamped in different places along the way. Interestingly, they were never told how long they’re going to stay at each place. The Torah tells us that in some places they encamped for a few years while in others they encamped only overnight, or just for a day or two.
And in each place they had to unpack everything . And build the entire Tabernacle. And set up the formation of the twelve tribes around the central camp where the Tabernacle stood.
Wouldn’t it be easier for G-d to tell them: Hey, we’re only staying overnight in this place, no need to unpack every suitcase, no need to build the entire Tabernacle just for a few hours…. Just take out the essentials and leave the rest packed up?
They had to unpack everything and build the tabernacle to its last detail, even if they were staying only for a few hours. G-d was teaching us a lesson, telling us: Wherever you are right now , be there fully. Get involved, build Me a home, pitch your tents and live life like this is your only ‘home.’
For all of us here, Northwest Arkansas is currently our home. Some of us are here to stay, others are planning to retire in Florida and still others think they’re moving tomorrow. Regardless, as long as you are here, G-d wants you to build your Jewish life here.
Israel is home for every Jew, but throughout history we built beautiful Shuls, communities and centers wherever we were. We knew we couldn’t let the time we are ‘here’ go to waste, even when we were convinced we were going back tomorrow.
Summer is a time of renewal and rejuvenation. Let us resolve to get involved in Jewish life, build strong communities and create a vibrant Jewish life for ourselves and for every Jew in Northwest Arkansas.
A warm day in Alaska
Last weekend I spent a few days in Anchorage, AK to participate in the annual conference of Chabad Rabbis in the western United States. As most of us serve smaller Jewish communities, we spent Friday, Shabbat and Sunday connecting, learning from each other and inspiring each other in our sacred mission to bring the Jewish flame and our holy tradition to our respective communities. It was a very uplifting few days and I loved hearing so many stories of Jewish growth and involvement. The future is brighter than we allow ourselves to think.
On Sunday, we had a few hour break between the morning session and dinner so we utilized the time to go see a small portion of the wonderful world Hashem has created. Our first stop was Mt. Alyeska, a beautiful ski resort about an hour away. While none of us had ski gear, we decided to take the tram to the top of the mountain to see some snow and take in the amazing views.
If the sun is out and it isn’t Shabbos, I try very hard to always have a pair of Tefillin with me and while I didn’t anticipate seeing any Jews up there, I took them along with me.
As we were riding the tram, my colleague Rabbi Yosef Kramer from Little Rock was chatting with a young man on the other side of the rather crowded car (we later discovered that it was the last day of the ski season and many were trying to get in on the slopes one more time, making it busier than usual ) when he discovered that the boy he chatting with was Jewish and never had a Bar Mitzvah or a chance to wrap Tefillin before.
I quickly gave him the tefillin and a Yarmulke, and right there on the tram deck atop Mt. Alyeska, we celebrated his Bar Mitzvah. As we started dancing Siman Tov uMazal tov, all the rabbis that were present (about 30 of us) joined in and it was a magical moment.
I’m pretty certain this event will remain in the young man’s memory for quite some time and I am certain he will use this as a springboard to get involved in our amazing heritage.
Oh, and a few minutes later we chanced upon a 13 year old boy who just celebrated his Bar Mitzvah a week earlier at the Chabad center in Anchorage. He too was happy to wrap tefillin with us.
Although there was snow all around us and the temperature hovered around the freezing mark, I must say that for me, it was a very warm day; the warmth of our eternal Jewish flame.
SPARE
‘Spare’ was a word that was all over the news this week. While personally I hadn’t read the book, nor do I plan on doing so, enough people apparently took interest in it to make it break some bookselling records. However, what is apparent even without reading the book is that the author had a sense of feeling he was ‘spare’ and was using these feelings as a justification, or explanation, for a whole variety of behaviors and actions.
“These are the names of the sons of Israel that came to Egypt” – begins the 2 nd book of the Torah, the one we start reading this week – “Reuben, Simeon, Levi and Judah….” The list goes on, until concluding that they were 70 souls. 'Why bother listing and counting them again?' asks Rashi, the primary commentator of the Torah; 'hadn’t the children and grandchildren of Jacob been enumerated just a few chapters ago, when the story of their decent to Egypt is told? Why count them again – and by name and number?'
“He counted them again”, says Rashi, “to let us know how precious they are to Him.”
When something is very dear to you, it is always on your mind, you speak of it and keep track of it. When you travel with a large amount of cash or Jewelry on you, you’re always checking on it and counting it to make sure it is safe, never taking your mind off of it. So too, he explains, G-d keeps a watchful eye on the Jewish people, counting them and enumerating them again and again, to show how precious they are.
I find it telling that the verse is telling us of our individual significance specifically when the exile to Egypt becomes challenging. It is in those difficult moments that we need to be reminded that G-d is counting us, letting us know he’s thinking about us. “You aren’t spare,” says G-d, “I need you and I’m thinking of you. I have a plan for you.”
Counting us by number, shows that each of us is important; listing us by name, shows that each of us is unique. Each and every one of us must remember that we are not a meaningless dot in an 8-billion people universe, rather that we each bring something special to G-d’s table, something only “I” can provide.
Being a Jew in ancient Egypt, under the tyrant Pharaoh, wasn’t easy physically – we were enslaved, beaten and tortured; while being a Jew in America today, isn’t easy spiritually – we are challenged with assimilation and the winds of un-holiness and G- dlessness. In both scenarios, however, the antidote is ‘do not feel like a spare.’ Remember, each and every one of us is counted, named and means something special to G-d.
But in order to not only ‘know it’ but also ‘feel it’ we must turn to the practical Mitzvot. The only way to internalize an intellectual knowledge into a sense of being and a personal conviction is by constant activity, by doing something with our hands and feet, in accordance with and as a conclusion of this knowledge. When we constantly ‘do’, we develop a deep bond and connection that intellect alone cannot create. And the more we do, the more we will feel that connection and individual importance.
Practical Mitzvot have kept our bond and connection going strong for over 3,300 years. Let’s keep it going….
Point-to-point or Hub-and-Spoke
Ever since moving to Northwest Arkansas in 2005, I discovered the one hope on top of every local frequent – and not-so-frequent – traveler’s wish list: Get Southwest to fly to XNA.
It is no secret that XNA isn’t a cheap travel destination and the fact that we have no low-cost airlines serving us doesn’t work in our pocketbook’s favor. However, this week was the first time I was actually happy I couldn’t book a Southwest flight for my son headed back to Yeshiva after Chanukah break. The mess which the airline went through was one of record proportions and we all know someone that has been affected.
While many of my friends and relatives claim it is their lifeline to the world, I knew very little about Southwest as I rarely travel with them and I was curious what has caused specifically this airline to suffer such a fallout from last week’s weather event, significantly more severe than any other airline, including those infamous for their poor performance.
I learned that Southwest operates on what the airline industry calls a ‘point-to-point’ route system vs. the hub-and-spoke route system that most major US carriers operate on. Meaning, most airlines operate to and from major hubs, vs. Southwest that flies many short and mid-range routes point-to-point, without connecting through a major hub. While there are pros and cons to each system, when delays and cancelations occur, there’s one big difference. So for example, if American Airlines is your airline of choice, if you ever get stuck somewhere, it is likely CLT, ORD or DFW; cursor:pointer;background-position-x:50%;background-position-y:100%">mikveh (ritual bath) in Rabbi Meir’s neighborhood stood at the foot of a steep mountain. When the slippery weather came, everyone had to walk all the way around for fear of slipping on the mountain path and breaking their bones—everyone, that is, apart from Rabbi Meir, who walked down that path whatever the weather, and never slipped.
One icy day, Rabbi Meir set out as usual to take the direct route to the mikveh . Two guests were staying in the area, sons of the rich who had come somewhat under the influence of the “Enlightenment” movement. These two young men did not believe in supernatural achievements, and when they saw Rabbi Meir striding downhill with sure steps as if he were on a solidly paved highway, they wanted to demonstrate that they too could negotiate the hazardous path. As soon as Rabbi Meir entered the cursor:pointer;background-position-x: 50%;background-position-y:100%">tzaddik with his question: why was it that no man could cope with that treacherous path, yet the cursor:pointer;background-position-x:50%;background-position-y: 100%">Rebbe never stumbled?
Replied Rabbi Meir: “If a man is bound up on high, he doesn’t fall down below. Meir’l is bound up on high, and that is why he can go up and down, even on a slippery hill.”
On a nice day we can all climb mountains; but when the path is covered in ice, no normal person will climb the mountain unless they are ‘connected’ and harnessed. For a Tzadik, their level of connection to G-d is so intense and powerful, that no ice on earth can make them slip. G-d is quite literally holding their hand.
But I don’t think Rabbi Meir was trying to impart mountain-climbing lessons to his student. I think he was trying to relay that it is essential for a Jew to be ‘connected above’ so they don’t slip below when challenges arise.
Let me explain: I often say that it’s easy being Jewish in Jerusalem or Brooklyn; there are large communities, minyans at any time of the day or night, kosher restaurants galore and a hundred people providing each and every Jewish service imaginable. In Arkansas, however, it isn’t a given; living a solid and meaningful Jewish like requires resolve, commitment and a willingness to take initiative and ‘make it happen’.
Similarly, in our personal lives and regardless of our geographical whereabouts, we all experience moments of ‘Jerusalem’ – Times when things are good, the coast is clear, there is bread on the table and harmony in the home. Moments when we are not faced with any challenges, be it financial, emotional, medical or social (and of course, our kids do exactly what we want them to, every minute of every day).
But every so often a winter storm erupts; things aren’t so smooth in one area or another, the winds are gusting and the roads are covered in thin black ice. We are scared to take the next step, unsure whether it will lead us to safety or land us in a cast for the next few weeks.
It is specifically about moments like these that Rabbi Meir was talking about. The only way to safely traverse trying times is via a solid and strong connection.
In the world of Chasidism there’s a term called ‘Hiskashrus’. In its literal sense it means being connected to the Rebbe. For the chosid, being attached to his or her Rebbe, always learning from him and seeking guidance and direction to illuminate and clarify their path, so they know what to do and what not to do, and make sure the next step is taken on solid ground. Chasidim also rely heavily on their connection to each other, especially since the time the Rebbe has passed away. We draw on each other for strength, support and even an occasional word of rebuke, looking out for each other and making sure we are not slipping on icy roads.
Point-to-point route systems, where you take one task and one step at a time, each independent of the other; focusing only on what’s at-hand right now, might work well when the weather is calm and the sun is shining. But when the clouds are grey, and a wrench is thrown at us, that’s when we need a hub. We need a central place where we can anchor, and an ability to connect with others in our shoes. When we are in a central location, with others in a similar struggle and devoted to a common theme gives us comfort and allows for our collective resources to be pulled together and get us out of the mess quickly.
In today’s day and age we throw around the term ‘climate change’ regularly. I’m no expert on the weather, but as a rabbi, I’ve seen a spiritual climate change quite a bit lately. On the one hand it appears spiritually stormy but at the same time Jews are reconnecting to their roots in greater number than before. Now more than ever, we absolutely need a hub, we absolutely need a community and we absolutely need each other so we can rely on each other.
This is why it is so central to belong to a Jewish community wherever you are. And by belong, I don’t mean pay dues; I mean participate regularly. Just like we don’t suffice with just buying our groceries but we make sure to actually eat, so too must we spiritually consume our Jewish sustenance daily and visit our spiritual home on an ongoing basis. It is only through this central hub that we will be safe when the weather throws a big one.
While Rosh Hashanah was three months ago, the rest of the world celebrates a new year this weekend. Make it your New Year’s resolution to frequent your Jewish hub. We’ll all be there for you and for each other.
After
If you walked by the book aisle at your favorite store and chanced upon a book titled ‘after’ – what would your first reaction be? Would you try to guess ‘after what’ the author is talking about? Would you think it’s an odd title for a book? Would you just shrug your shoulders?
Well, this week’s Torah portion, the sixth in the books of Leviticus, is exactly that: Its title is ‘Acharei’ – after.
The opening verse in its entirety reads “And the Lord spoke to Moses after the death of Aaron's two sons, when they drew near before the Lord, and they died.” While a Torah portion’s title is typically drawn from the opening verse, the choice of using just the word ‘after’ is interesting. If every word in the Torah is precise, certainly the title of a Torah portion isn’t picked at random, just grabbing a word from the opening verse; it is carefully chosen and therefore must contain a message and a lesson.
Superficially, when reading Lev. 10:1, one draws the conclusion that the sons of Aaron died due to their sin of bringing a foreign fire in front of G-d, one which He didn’t command them. However, the holy Or Hachaim sheds a much deeper light on the events that occurred that day and explains that the sons of Aaron were very holy individuals, ones that were even greater than Moshe and Aaron. Upon witnessing the G-dly flame and the Divine revelation on that first day of service in the Tabernacle, their soul was stirred with an affectionate and passionate desire to attach themselves to G-d. They had such a deep yearning to connect with G-d, that their soul literally departed their bodies and rose to heaven, merging with the Divine essence. They have reached the pinnacle of holiness a human being can achieve.
Their ‘sin’ was that they didn’t keep the ‘after’ in mind; they allowed the holiness of the moment and the G-dly revelation of that day to consume them and they became oblivious to the inevitable result. We are commanded that as long as there’s a breath of life in his or hers nostrils, A Jew must serve G-d in this world, keep their health and life and perform Mitzvot regularly. Allowing oneself to be consumed with the moment, as spiritual and holy as it may be, and ignore the ‘after’ is what they did wrong and this is precisely what the Torah is teaching us to never do.
This is why the portion is titled ‘after’, instructing the Jew to always, always, keep the ‘after’ in mind.
On Yom Kippur in the afternoon, after fasting and immersing ourselves in holiness almost an entire day, we read the portion of the Torah warning us not to imitate the behavior of the Egyptians and Canaanites, a lifestyle that the Torah describes as ‘the most corrupt of all’. The fact that we are warned about such basic ideas at a moment so holy teaches us that, even in a state of extreme holiness we must remember the consequences of our actions, and if we ignore the ‘after’ at that moment, we may plummet to the nadir of humanity, to the most undesirable human behaviors.
If when in a state of holiness one must keep the ‘after’ in mind, how much more so must we weigh the results of our actions in our day to day lives. We are so consumed with the ‘here and now’ that we all too often forget, or ignore, the ‘aftereffects’ of our actions.
I recall a conversation I had many years ago, urging a family to come to Shul regularly on Shabbat morning and bring their children with. They argued that their children play sports every Saturday morning and therefore the family cannot attend Shul. I countered by saying: When they will be adults, I guarantee you that they will not be involved in sports or make their living from it, but they will be Jewish. Their sportsmanship will have very little influence on their life and that of their offspring, yet the level of their Judaism will have a huge impact on the future of Judaism in their families. If we want them to be in Shul regularly as adults and if we wish that Judaism to be part of their lives, then the surest way to do so is to get them to be active Jews as children. Is it fair to sacrifice a lifelong (and eternal) value for the sake of a temporary childhood extra-curricular activity?
Sadly, all too often we think of ‘right now’ and what looks good ‘this moment’, ignoring entirely the consequences on the ‘after’. Aron’s sons forgot about the ‘after’ from a place of great holiness, we must not forget about the ‘after’ from the place we’re in right now.
What we invest in now, what we spend time on now, what we value NOW , will remain with us, with our children and with our grandchildren forever.
Choose your ‘after’ wisely; choose your ‘after’ Jewishly.
Seen my light bulbs?
I’d like to share with you an incident that happened with me earlier this week, an incident involving stolen and shattered light bulbs. I would also like to tell you how you can help me deal with it.
Monday afternoon, when I arrived at the Chabad House, I was saddened to see that the Menorah displayed proudly in front of the Shul was lying on the ground and every single bulb had shattered.
The Menorahs we use in the public domain are there exclusively to publicize the miracle, so we often use light bulbs instead of an actual flame, as they burn brighter and don’t run out of fuel. The previous night – the last night of Chanukah – saw severe storms ripping through Northwest Arkansas, so I knew it wasn’t vandalism but a strong gust of wind that knocked over the Menorah (Just to be sure, I confirmed it by checking the security cameras); still, the sight was pretty sad. It’s only light bulbs, I thought, we’ll get new ones for next year.
The following day, when I went to pick up the Menorah that we display on the University of Arkansas campus, I disturbingly discovered that – while thankfully the wind did not knock down that one – someone had taken all of the light bulbs. They are unique bulbs that have little, if any, household use and I’m not sure what a thief would do with them, but they were all gone. Every single one.
At this point, ‘missing light bulbs' was more than a coincidence, and I was trying to figure out what to make of it.
I then recalled a conversation I had a few days earlier. ‘If the message of Chanukah is to always increase in light, never to be satisfied with yesterday’s energy, why stop at night number 8?’, I was asked, ‘Shouldn’t we be adding a flame each night continually?’
Sometimes the obviously ‘silly’ questions are the hardest ones to answer.
I replied by relaying a fascinating thought I read a few months ago: Since both nature and miracles come from G-d, and to Him both are equally achievable, the difference between a miracle and nature is repetition. Were the sun to stop its orbit one afternoon and remain in one spot for an hour, we would call it a miracle; yet the sunrise and sunset that are equally miraculous are called nature, simply because they happen every day. When the dead will resurrect it will be an unprecedented miracle, though the ‘natural’ birth of a child that happens every minute is no less miraculous.
If the Chanukah candles would burn in our home every night, I explained, we would cease to see the miraculous light that we are charged to illuminate the world with. It is the once-a-year kindling of the Menorah that reminds us of its miraculous strength. The rest of the year, we put this energy to use by igniting our inner flame and shining our Jewish light to the outside world.
The broken and stolen light bulbs instantly became a call to action, not a distraction: now that Chanukah is over, I need to ‘bring my own light bulb', spreading the light of Torah with my own inner flame.
But my story doesn’t end here.
As I was standing outside the Chabad House sweeping up the broken glass, a pickup truck pulls over and a man named Jerry gets out. “Two are better than one” he simply said, and he proceeded to assist me in cleaning up the mess. He enjoyed seeing the Menorah on his way to work each day and was disheartened to see it broken on the ground. He just happened to drive by as I was cleaning up so he offered to help. I was touched by his gesture.
And here is how this all relates to you.
‘Two are better than one’ and a community is better than an individual. As we forge ahead from Chanukah, Chabad of Northwest Arkansas will continue to spread light, igniting flames and fanning them with the eternal strength of Torah and Mitzvot. We will be turning on many light bulbs.
But we need your help. And we need your support. We need it not only to buy 18 new light bulbs for next year’s Chanukah, but for the untold soul-lightbulbs that will be turning on this coming year.
December is the month of giving and about 20 percent of our annual budget is raised this month. The new Shul that has enabled us to increase our acitvities and celebrate better as a community, has also increased our expenses significantly, so our need for your ‘light bulb' is greater than ever.
As Jerry said, ‘two are better than one’ and we cannot do it without you. Please, open up your hearts and open up your wallets and donate generously to Chabad of Northwest Arkansas. We need your support and your help; we need you to turn on more lights.
Click here to donate by credit card or mail your check to: Chabad of Northwest Arkansas, 3400 SE John Rollow Drive, Bentonville, AR 72712. We are also set up to accept stock donations, potentially saving you money on your taxes.
Please, we need your light bulbs today.
'DO' never again!
As an avid coffee drinker my children observe me several times a day making, and enjoying, a cup of coffee. A few weeks ago my son Yisrael, who is only six, brilliantly remarked that coffee is one of the rare few things in the world that you get to enjoy for longer than it takes to prepare. Shabbos dinner, he explained, takes a whole Friday to cook and prepare, and it’s over in two hours; to destroy something takes mere seconds while creating it took days or weeks. To brew a coffee (granted, we use a Keurig machine) takes a few seconds, and you can get many minutes of pleasure out of it.
Yisrael was right. With the exception of a cup of coffee, everything in life takes real effort to enjoy, and only once you put in the effort can you take pleasure in the result.
The same is true with relationships. They have moments of pleasure but many more moments of hard work; you cannot ‘ kvell’ in your children’s accomplishments without putting in years of work – hectic days and sleepless nights to see them to the finish line, and a marriage must have serious commitment and investment to back the ‘I love you’ you will whisper.
It is impossible, and irrational, to anticipate to only enjoy the ‘feel good moments’ and not invest the necessary effort to get there. We must put in the work.
