Dayeinu

Anyone who has been to a Passover seder is familiar with Dayeinu. What does this have to do with the holiday of Shavuot? Here is a post I wrote for EmunaDate about Shavuot, reprinted below. 

After 38 consecutive days of successfully remembering to count the Omer, I dropped the ball. I didn't just drop the ball, I punctured a hole in it - two nights in a row I forgot to count. I had prided myself for disconnecting from my cellphone - two whole days away from it! What I neglected to take into account is that it also meant two days away from my alarm reminding me to count. Dejected, I decided to put the whole omer counting thing behind me, and just wait for its climax, Shavuot. After a day or two, something started to gnaw at me - was it really appropriate to just give up? If we spend seven weeks counting up to the holiday, was there still something I could gain from continuing to count, even if it didn't 'count' anymore?

Shavuot means 'weeks', which would seem to imply that on this day we are celebrating the previous seven week count-up - Sefiat HaOmer. During this period the Jews in the Midbar were trying to break free from their slave mentality of the Egyptian Exile. For 49 days they worked on themselves in order to be able to receive the Torah, the wisdom within it, and really become Am Yisrael. As you'll recall from everyone's favorite Pesach Seder song, Dayeinu, it ends with "If He had brought us to Mount Sinai without giving us the Torah, it would have been enough." Every year I'm left skeptical and slightly cynical - after all the work the Jews put in to being able to receive the Torah, it would have been cool if it never happened? In addition, Rav Dessler says that receiving the Torah was not merely a one-time event. Rather, every generation receives the Torah anew. In fact, every person every hour is capable of experiencing their own Mattan Torah. I wasn't sure how to reconcile these two ideas.

Every time we put in the tiniest amount of effort to break free of these habits, we are improving ourselves just as the Jews in the desert were. Whether it's refraining from speaking gossip, passing on that extra cookie, or refraining from lighting a cigarette, we are reminding ourselves that we are in control. It is through these actions that we assert our freedom and our ability to do what is right, even if it's hard.

I finally felt like I understand what it all means. It wasn't the receiving of the Torah that was the main event, it was the effort put into being fit for receiving it. It's about the effort we put into ourselves, not just during the Sefirat HaOmer, but every day of the year. The little changes in our behavior slowly add up, until before we know it we quit smoking, lost 10 lbs, or broke free of whatever vice we were enslaved to. Now, as a non-smoker, we are different people, and as a different person we are able to appreciate the Torah in a different way - to see insights we skipped over before and to otherwise appreciate the same words with a new set of eyes.

I started to think about what it means to work on yourself in order to be fit to receive the Torah. Shavuot isn't given a specific date as other holidays are. It is simply referred to as '50 days after Pesach', further implying that these intermediary days are significant. What is it that the Jews were working on during this period? We've already said that it was to be comfortable with the idea that they were a free people, but anything that has occurred in the Torah is applicable to us today, so I started to think about what that means in modern terms. There are a million ways this could be interpreted, but I like to think it means a remembrance that we aren't slaves to our bad habits and addictions - the things we think control our lives. 

With this in mind, I resumed my count. It's not about the fact that I dropped the ball, it's about having the strength and determination to pick it back up, to keep running until I cross the finish line, even when I know that I'm out of the running (or mixing metaphors). Shavuot is about celebrating the clarity that comes when you know that you're free. With this realization, I finally got that line from Dayeinu - with this freedom it would have been enough. We didn't have to receive the Torah because we accomplished what we needed to, But that fact that we did, well I think that calls for a celebration.

If It Ain't Broke, You Can't Get Something Better

Now, I'm not a sentimental person by any means, but when my electric burner broke, I was really bummed. Not just because it was my main source of heating food, but it was from a good friend. Yonit had stayed with me last summer. She was one of my favorite people in D.C., and having her here with me in my new home, right after moving here was really important for me. It helped with the transition from life in the 'Old Country' to this beautiful, crazy new land. As a proud anti-hoarder, I don't have so many things associated with people or places, so the burner served two functions: making scrambled eggs and reminding me of my friends back 'home'. Friends who still think about me. It's a reminder I still exist there. It's important when existence here is so ... existential.

After having already used the burner to fry up some eggs for breakfast, I set about turning some overripe peaches into compote. I turned the dial and waited for the light to turn on. About three days after I received my present, all markings about on/off high/low had mysteriously vanished, resulting in an often haphazard heating system. My default was to always turn the dial to the highest setting and hope the food cooked before it burned. This time, nothing happened. I tried alternating between the extremes on both ends, but no matter what, the light wouldn't go on and the burner wouldn't get warm. On the one hand, I was mad. I had all these skinned peaches turning brown - how dare this contraption dare to thwart my compoting! On the other hand, I was relieved this happened today, and not two days ago when I was cooking for 8 people on Pesach.

I soon settled on a third emotion - excitement. Since this thing was broken, I was going to smash it. I will admit, I enjoy a good demolition derby or other excuse for things to crash, smash, and otherwise needlessly break. I know it doesn't fit in with my persona as a conservationist, but nobody's perfect. I gleefully shared my plan with some friends in my home later that evening. One asked if she could be there for the smashing, the other looked at me concerned and asked if he could at least try to fix it.  I was embarrassed I hadn't even considered that as an option, and bashfully brought out my toolbox.

Ultimately, it couldn't be fixed.

The next morning, determined to eat something hot, I relented and boiled some eggs in the kumkum. This was depressing. Here I am - 31 and too broke to buy a new stovetop. Cooking eggs in a hotpot. I felt like Milhouse's dad from the Simpsons, who has to result to pathetically thawing hotdogs in a gas station bathroom for sustenance. I decided to take my pity party to the internet and posted on the Jerusalem offer/wanted listserv my sad state. I had previously requested objects here with varying degrees of success: two folding chairs but no needed folding table, free fleishig silverware, but no interest in my bags of women's clothing.

Thirteen minutes later I had an offer in my inbox - a woman from Beitar with a double burner, just sitting in her closet. The only catch was I had to get it in the next three days. I was overjoyed. For 24 shekels in bus fare I was going to get a new - better - stovetop, worth ten times as much.

After a brief adventure to the Gush to retrieve my new present, I gingerly put it on my counter and began to inspect it. It was practically brand new and would make cooking for Shabbat much faster. I couldn't believe my luck. I slowly started to realize that the new stovetop was smiling at me, and I began to smile back. Sure, you can say humans are just narcissistic and see faces in everything, but this was more than that. This smile was my frown from three days ago turned upside down. I had wanted that original stovetop. It worked fine, I had it for a while, and it came with fond memories. I was angry when it let me down by breaking, so much that I wanted to break it (side note, I regained my senses and left it intact next to the dumpster). If you had told me that in its place I would get something better, I probably would have handled my emotions better - but we don't have the benefit of hindsight during events. I felt a little foolish, but ultimately grateful for the whole experience. How often in such a short period of time do we get such a mussar lesson: sometimes, we need things to 'break' or otherwise leave us in order to make room for something bigger and better. At the time it's painful and upsetting and we want to cling to it, or lash out at it, to no avail. It's only if we can let go with grace that our hands can be open to receive something else. Whether it's a job, a relationship, or a kitchen appliance, the end of what we have can be the beginning of something better.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to make scrambled AND hard boiled eggs at the same time.

Parshat Mishpatim: Why We Trust Strangers

While it's already two days after Shabbat, there is an idea that the energy of the parsha stays with us through Tuesday, so I hope you will still find the following idea timely.

I am a chozeret b'teshuva - which means I grew up secular and became observant. My parents, whom I love very much, do not share my lifestyle, which is totally cool. My mom is very happy that I'm happy, B"H, but admits she finds going to strangers' homes for Shabbat 'weird'. "You don't know them and you're going to sleep in their homes?! More importantly, why are they letting YOU into their homes?!" I would like to point out she allows me to sleep in her home, so I doubt her concerns are personal.

I could never really explain to her why religious Jews all over open their tables and homes to 'strangers' every week for Shabbat. I tried to explain to her that there is this understanding, we all do Shabbat, so what is there to worry about?

I think I finally found the source for this unspoken agreement in Parshat Mishpatim. The parsha mostly covers civil law: the things you need for society to function. All the way at the end, there is half a sentence that states, "Six days you will work and do your deeds, and on the 7th day you will Shabbat" (Shemot 23:12) (this is also my source for using to Shabbos as a verb!). Here we find the source for why Jews trust other Jews who also observe Shabbat.

How can we trust that the society will function the way G-d tells us? Sure, back in the day we had the Beit Din to execute punishments as they are prescribed in the Torah, and nowadays we have the police and courts to enforce each society's laws - but why should we care about these rules in the first place? Because, as Jews, we believe that the rules G-d gives us are important. By observing Shabbat, there is an implication that we not only follow the mitzvot of shamor and zachor but all of the commandments - including the ones that allow people to invite other Jews into their homes without worry that they will be gored by a bloodthirsty ox (or their silver candlesticks will be taken).

Shevat: Be the Bucket

There has been a lot of fuss over the past couple of days. From the news to my facebook, I just can't get away from the big change. No - not the new calendar year! The new Jewish month, which starts Wednesday night (Jan 1) - Rosh Chodesh Shevat.

The zodiac symbol in Judaism is a bucket, while for the rest of the world it's water. This is one of only two months in the whole calendar where the symbols aren't exactly the same, so we definitely have something to learn from this. Water represents material things in Torah. It's definitely important to have stuff! As our Sages say in Pirkei Avot אין קמח אין תורה which basically means you can't learn Torah if you don't even have what to eat. But, what good is the water without a bucket? How are you going to bring it from the well to the kitchen to cook? Or to water your plants? Or even to drink from?

In addition, it's not enough to just have a bucket, but it must be sound. The bucket is really just a vessel, or kli כלי. In Judaism, the kli is us. Each one of us are a vessel, and we must be sound, fit to be able to hold whatever goodness G-d pours into us.

While the secular world is focused on the water, the gashmiut גשמיות (related to the word for rain geshem גשם), we can't forget how important it is to have a sound vessel. A colander is not going to be an efficient vessel for transporting that water. This month, make an effort to not get wrapped up in the material trappings of the world. They are definitely important, but without the work we put into ourselves to be better people, the other stuff is worthless.

Sexless and the Holy City: Procrastinate your way to success!

This past Chanukkah, I was sitting around making homemade menorahs with some of my friends and we were talking about emotions. Not in the way you would perhaps imagine: a scene of the Golden Girls at their kitchen table, around a cheesecake. Sharing memories, laughs and tears. No, we were talking about how hard it can be to allow ourselves to be comfortable with our emotions. I thought if so many of my girl friends have this roadblock, what's going on with the guys?

A quick survey of a handful of my guy friends confirmed what I was thinking: they have no problem feeling their emotions. If anything, many of them had a hard time getting out of them, they were so comfortable in their feeling. Meanwhile, I work at keeping myself either happy or mildly annoyed. Sometimes when I drive or cycle, a third emotion, road rage, will emerge. But I'm alway working to get back to happy. I'm just uncomfortable feeling anything else.

Then, I came across an article on procrastination. I have always been motivated by deadlines, aspiring to be one of those people who lives by, "Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today." But, other than occasional bursts of productivity here and there, I tend to be motivated by: this has to be done now.

Or at least I used to be.

The author describes the main force behind why we procrastinate: because we are uncomfortable. The project we need to do is hard or we're scared we can't do it well, so we avoid thinking about it, seeing what's new on facebook or talking on the phone, until we're so stressed by the deadline that we don't have time to doubt ourselves. Panic overcomes all other emotions.  I realized my discomfort with being uncomfortable wasn't only a dating liability, but a professional one too. I stopped what I was doing, walked over to the mirror and looked myself in the face: I hadn't left everything that was familiar and comfortable to made aliyah because I was scared of discomfort! What was I doing to myself? I was so caught up in my realization that I didn't notice my roommate standing next to me and asking me why I was talking to myself - now that was uncomfortable. I just smiled and went back to work.

And that's the strategy I've maintained over the past few weeks. When unproductive behavior starts knocking at the door I recognize what is happening, look for the emotion that I'm trying to avoid. Spend some time with it until everyone is comfortable, smile to myself, and resume work. I won't say that it's been easy, or that I haven't fallen off the wagon a few times since then. But the more I do it, the easier it becomes. I've gotten to know myself better, had more deep, meaningful conversations with friends, and my to-do list is shorter than ever. When it comes to life, whether it's with relationships or our professional life, the only thing to really be afraid of is the idea that we never really tried. That's an idea worth being uncomfortable with.

The Best Things Happen When You Don't Get What You Want

I'm a big Rolling Stones fan. One of my favorite songs by them is You Can't Always Get What You Want. Despite the actual morbid words of the song the refrain is so true - sometimes you might find, you get what you need. This might seem like hopeful fluff, but I see it time and again in life. The following is the most recent example.

One of my good friends got married yesterday in the US. She really wanted to get married in Israel, where here and her chatan live, but for various reasons, it had to happen in the US. As anyone who has been on the internet probably knows, Jerusalem has suffered through an unprecedented snow storm. Who knows what would have been if she had actually gotten married today in Jerusalem as she had so hoped for.

So the next time something you really want doesn't pan out, rather than being disappointed or frustrated, I think the best thing to do is just sit back and smile, because something even better is coming your way!

Miracles: Seen and unseen.

Tonight is the last night of Hanukkah. In Judaism, the closer you get to the end of the holiday, the more special the time is, so there is a lot of powerful energy available for us tonight. Here is something short to think about as you light your candles.

In my opinion, the big miracle of Hanukkah is the fact that there was that one jug of oil waiting for the Maccabees after they beat the powerful Greek army. You know the Greeks tried their best to treif up all of the oil, so that the Jews would be left with nothing.  Unlike the Roman destruction of the Beit Hamikdash, the Greeks weren't interested in destroying the building, but the soul of the Jewish people. Symbolically to them, this meant extinguishing the light of the ever-burning Menorah.

But guess whose plans were thwarted.

As we know, there was one jug of oil that remain untouched, and fit for use to rekindle the light.
G-d hid that jar one from them, and set it aside for us. Who knows what else G-d has hidden away, set aside for us when we need it the most.

We are at the beginning of winter - months of cold darkness. We need to take this thought with us, to light the way. G-d is always working miracles for us. We might not see them - but when we least expect it, and need it the most, it will be there before our eyes.