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Thursday, January 19, 2012

Game Changer

I

The Jewish people complained to Moshe. He had come to help them, but he had only succeeded in making things worse. Before Moshe came, the Jewish slaves had been supplied with enough straw to fulfill their brick making quotas. Now they had to find their own straw. Moshe had damaged their reputations and increased their suffering.

Moshe turned to Hashem and complained, “Why have you caused this nation to suffer? Why did you send me?

Hashem assured Moshe that He would help the Jewish people. He added: “I have appeared to Avraham, to Yitzchak and to Yaacov with the name of ‘Kel Shakai’. I did not make my name of YHVH known to them”.

The name YHVH represents the idea that Hashem was, is and will always be. He is the cause of everything, He is with us at all times, and He will always be with us.  The forefathers did not need this reassurance because they understood that Hashem had a plan. In many cases, the forefathers saw their problems resolved in their own lifetimes. Avraham and Sarah bore Yitzchak and Avraham even lived to see Yishmael do Teshuva. Yitzchak survived the Akeidah and presumably had nachas from his children. Yaacov spent the last seventeen years of his life living peacefully and surrounded by all of his children. Throughout their ordeals, the forefathers remained holy, faithful and deserving of Hashem’s favor.

Moshe recognized that the suffering in Mitzrayim had impacted the Jews on a very deep level. There was no end in sight and the Jews could not even think about freedom. The Egyptians had succeeded in taking over their entire lives. They were losing their national identity and soon they would not deserve to be saved.

Hashem reassured Moshe with his name of YHVH that He would continue to be with the Jewish regardless of how downtrodden and unholy they might be.

Hashem taught Moshe that His love and His plans for our glorious future can transcend and defy all logic and fairness. Hashem is with us and he will see us through to the end.

II

There are still a number of puzzling questions that need to be answered:

Firstly, why does Hashem say that He did not make His name of YHVH known to the forefathers? This name was not a new revelation; we find it throughout the book of Bereishis. The Jewish people used it when they cursed Moshe at the end of Parshas Shemos, and Moshe himself used it in this very conversation. In what context was the name YHVH not used in previous generations?

Secondly, The Torah records that Hashem was ‘angy’ when Moshe, in apparent humility and thoughtfulness, suggested that his older brother Aharon lead the Jewish people. Yet, when Moshe accused Hashem of sending him to cause harm to the Jewish people, the Torah does not record any anger. Why is there no anger?

Third, according to the Medrash Hashem compared Moshe to the forefathers and mourned the loss of greater generations. Moshe had questioned Hashem’s plan where the forefathers had never questioned Him. Yet, we find that the forefathers did question Hashem. When Hashem promised the land of Israel to Avraham, he asked: ‘Bameh Eidah?” “How do I know?” Why was Moshe considered to be the first to question Hashem?

Finally, although the doubts of Avraham and Moshe were similar, the consequences that they were dealt were completely different. Avraham’s punishment was that his children were exiled for four hundred years while Moshe’s punishment was that he would not be allowed to enter the Land of Israel. Why the difference?

III

Many of these difficulties can be resolved by examining a single word. Hashem said that he “did not make His name of YHVH known to the forefathers”. What is the idea of Hashem making his name known?

In Hashem’s conversation with Avraham we also find the word ‘know: Avraham asks, “How will I know (that my children will inherit the land)?” and Hashem responds “You will surely know for your children will be slaves in a land that is not theirs or four hundred years”.

Rav Moshe Feinstein (Drashos 11) explains that when Hashem first told Avraham that he would be given the land of Israel, Avraham was dismayed. Avraham had prayed to prevent the downfall of Sedom and he was not excited about the idea of conquering and expelling seven nations and thirty-one kings from the land of Canaan. He asked the question “How will I know?” using the word ‘know’ in the biblical sense: “How can I make peace with this? How can I appreciate this? How can this relate to me?”

Hashem responded to Avraham by explaining that there is a natural progression in world history. Trends change, nations change, beliefs change, and lands change. Just as the world has progressed past idolatry and slavery, there have been and will be many progressions throughout history. Hashem assured Avraham that there would be no sudden expulsion of the Canaanite people. Rather, the Canaanite society would disintegrate and deteriorate over time. They would succumb naturally to the Jewish invaders. Such is the way of the world and it was to remain that way until Moshe came along.

IV

Moshe grew up in Mitzrayim in the palace of Pharaoh. His fellow Jews were oppressed and suppressed but they showed no interest in dissent or rebellion against Pharaoh. It was only Moshe who came in from the outside who protested the treatment of the Jews and even killed a Mitzri. The Jews complained about Moshe’s involvement and harassed him to the point that he was forced to abandon his protest and flee to Midyan. When Hashem appeared to Moshe and sent him back to Mitzrayim, Moshe understood that the time was finally right for conditions to improve. He took his family and his belongings and returned to Mitzrayim.

Moshe knew that the process of freedom would take time, but he believed that the Pharaoh and the Jewish people were ready to start talking about freedom. Soon, Moshe found out that he was a lone voice. Pharaoh refused to take him seriously and the Jews cursed him for getting involved. Moshe realized that if history was to progress at a natural pace, the Jews would not live to see the end of the story. His complaint to Hashem was not about a lack of G-dliness in this world, but about the slow pace of change. He saw that the Jews did not have the stamina to take much more and that they had lost all desire to be free.

Moshe begged Hashem for a game changer.

Hashem responded by abandoning the natural process and rushing the Jewish people to freedom. The ensuing story of the Ten Makkos and of Yetzias Mitzrayim was a story of Shock and Awe. Rather than wait, as Avraham had requested, Hashem shocked Pharaoh and the Jewish people into change. Within a year, Pharaoh was begging the Jews to go and the Jews were free of bondage.

The quick change came at an expense. Attitude did not have time to catch up to reality. Pharaoh immediately regretted letting the Jews out, and the Jews begged to return to Egypt. We needed forty years of wandering in the desert just to shake off our slave mentality and prepare ourselves to enter the land of Israel. Even after we entered the land of Israel, our freedom was not eternal. It lasted only 410 years.

We had needed more time, but Moshe had realized that there was no more time.

Rav Moshe explains that when the final Geulah (redemption) comes to the world, we will be ready for it. As we say in Aleinu, the whole world will be perfected through the name of “Shakai” and the freedom will last forever. We constantly beg that Hashem to rush our redemption, but we know that He will rush it in a way that will not cost us our freedom.

V

When Moshe was a child he made a choice between a Diamond and a coal. He knew that the diamond was more valuable, but he picked up the coal instead. The angel who guided his hand taught him that sometimes the short term choice is the best choice. Opting for the coal saved his life, and the speech impediment that it caused was a constant reminder that sometimes we need to be impatient. We need to give up on the historic process and introduce a game changer.

As we consider the world around us, we need to envision the diamond and the coal. The diamond looks boring but has long term value but the coal can sometimes hold more excitement and more hope.

Rav Moshe observed that the world is almost ready for Moshiach. Most of the ingredients are in place and it is just the details that are missing.
Jealousy, lust, and the need for honor cause people to act in ways that they don’t believe in. Poverty, pressure, and societal norms cause us to do crazy things. Still, we can look beyond the insanity and know that we are almost ready.

In the Ha Lachma we declare that, by rights, nobody should remain hungry or needy. Unfortunately we are enslaved and in exile. We do witness hunger and hatred.  We hope that next year we will be redeemed and our true colors will show.

When we tell the story of Pesach, we are told to begin with the bad and end with praise. We may not have a perfect ending yet, but we can praise Hashem and appreciate who we are and how far we have come.

On a personal level, we can teach ourselves to be patient with the historic process, but to be willing to introduce a game changer when necessary.

We can sit back and let things progress naturally, or we can use our unique abilities to effect some badly needed change.

We can be the ones to bring the world one step closer to perfection.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

What If He Were Your Brother?

Rav Mendel Weinbach once approached Rav Michel Twerski with a dilemma. As the Rosh Yeshiva of one of the premier “Baal Teshuva” Yeshivos in the world, Rav Weinbach was often asked to accept students who had been born Orthodox but were not flourishing in the Yeshiva world. He wondered if he should veer from his mission of teaching newcomers to Judaism in order to teach the equally important, but very different, “Kids at Risk”.

As a fly on the wall during this discussion, I was intrigued. How do individuals and yeshivos determine their priorities? What is the proper way to deal with issues of resources, responsibility, and philosophy? Did Rabbi Weinbach and his yeshiva have an obligation to get involved with one demographic at the expense of another? Was he allowed? Was it proper to lump newcomers to Judaism with those who appeared to be on the way out? 

Reb Michel responded with characteristic humility and matter-of-factness:

“There are so many issues involved”, he acknowledged, “and one could debate about these issues for days. But these questions are often personal. What are you going to do if it is you nephew or your neighbor or your friend’s child who needs help? Are you going to refuse them? How can you say no?”

Rav Weinbach’s emotion-laden question and Rav Michel’s non-answer bring to mind a wonderful woman that my parents hired many years ago to be our cleaning lady and babysitter. The woman spent many hours with us and made life easier for my mother. She taught us not to fill up on apple juice, not to talk to strangers, and not to write in phone books.  Although she was not Jewish, she loved to sing along with Megama and quoted the bible with regularity.

One day, our beloved babysitter asked my father if he would meet with her son. He was a nice boy, but he was about to go to prison for murder. I don’t have a clear recollection of the son, but I do remember feeling very bad for him. I knew that he had done something very bad, but all my mind could process was that the nice lady’s son was going to jail.

The incident happened when I was very young, but I think about it often. Murderers have mothers too. Having mothers doesn’t (necessarily) make them better people or less deserving of punishment, but it does put things into perspective.

Next time somebody asks you for help or does something wrong, don’t jump to the logical conclusion. Imagine for a moment that he is your son or your brother.
Imagine that you would do anything in the world for him and that you want only the best for him. Only after we formed that picture in our minds, may we begin to think logically and to do what is right.

I often tell my elementary school students that teaching is not a popularity contest. I don’t base my decisions on what will make my students happy. At the same time, I try to make every decision out of love and respect for the student. Yosef Hatzadik was justified in speaking harshly and callously to his brothers, but only because he burst into tears immediately afterward.

When the Chazon Ish advised that a student be expelled from Yeshiva he would follow up by arranging to study regularly with the boy. I have seen similar policies adopted by contemporary roshei yeshiva and I have seen it work. A student who is a bad influence knows that he needs to leave. He also knows whether he is being disciplined out of love or out contempt.

In Parshas Shemos, when Pharaoh was told that Hashem had commanded that he let the Jews go, he didn’t argue or debate. He just denied Hashem’s existence. “Mi Hashem? I never heard of him and I don’t care about him”.

Like Pharaoh, we often assuage our guilt by not thinking about the subject of our criticism and callousness. The worst thing that we can do to a person is to deny his or her existence.

Before we refuse to help somebody or choose to write them off, we need to acknowledge that they are real people. We need to imagine that they are our neighbor, our friend, and our brother. We need to approach all logical conclusions with reluctance and regret. Sometimes we need to act calloused, but we may not be unfeeling. Sometimes, when the situation demands it, we need to transcend logic and act out of love.

We need to act like brothers.

Sunday, January 01, 2012

Chanukah: Culture Shock

The Medrash tells us about a man named Yosef Meshisa. He may have lived at the time of the Roman invasion, but the context of the Medrash makes it sound like he lived at the time of the Greeks. He was what we would call a traitor. He joined the Greeks, adopted their culture, and assisted them in military strategy. When the Greeks invaded the Bais Hamikdash (Temple), they sent him in first. They told him to choose one item that would be his to keep.

Yosef Meshisa entered the Bais Hamikdash and grabbed the Menorah. When he came out it was immediately confiscated by the Greeks.

“This is to pretty”, they said. “It’s too nice for you. A simple man like you cannot own something like this”

The Greeks told Yosef Meshisa to go back into the Bais Hamikdash and choose something else. He refused. They offered to make him a tax collector for three years if he would go back in. He still refused. Finally, they threatened to kill him if he did not re-enter.

Yosef Meshisa reamined defiant. He said, “I angered my G-d once. I will not do it again.” And he was put to death.

What happened to Yosef Meshisa? He couldn’t have been too holy if he was willing to go into the Bais Hamikdash and take the Menorah. What caused him to repent?

The Ponevizher Rav explains that the very space of the Bais Hamikdash had the power to change a person. Yosef Meshisa was a different man because he had spent time in the Bais Hamikdash. This is an awesome thought, but still does not totally answer the question. If he repented inside the Bais Hamikdash, why did he come out carrying the Menorah? 

Perhaps it was his conversation with the Greeks that put him over the edge. Yosef went into the Bais Hamikdash and was, perhaps unexpectedly, overwhelmed by its holiness. He was drawn to the Menorah and all that it embodied and represented. This Menorah was the focal point of the entire Jewish nation in their service of Hashem. It was constantly lit and represented the light that Hashem asked us to share with the world. The Menorah was holy. Yosef Meshisa grabbed the Menorah because, deep inside, it meant something to him.

When he came outside to his friends, he encountered a culture shock. The Greeks said he couldn’t have the Menorah because it was too beautiful, too fine a work of art and he was too simple to appreciate it. They couldn’t see the spirituality in the Menorah or holiness that it brought. They couldn’t see that it was meaningful to him. All they saw was a beautiful candelabra.

It was at that point that Yosef realized that he had fallen in with the wrong crowd. The Jews weren’t against the beauty, the mathematics, or the art of the Greeks. They were against the attitude that everything in this world is tangible and that an invisible G-d and spirituality have no place.

Yosef Meshisa realized that there was far more the Menorah than what the Greeks were able to recognize. He realized that there was far more to Yosef Meshisa than he himself had been willing to recognize. He had a soul and it was far more important to him than any honor or riches or culture that he had been willing to exchange for it.
One of the edicts of the Greeks was that every Ox horn must be engraved with the statement “we have nothing to do with Hashem”. The Greeks knew what they were doing. Imagine a Jew walking behind his ox plowing his field or bringing goods to the marketplace. He realizes that as hard as he is working, he is relying on Hashem to make him successful. The Greeks wanted to put a stop to that. They wanted us to spend all day staring at anti-god bumper stickers.

The lesson of Chanukah and of Yosef Meshisa is that there is more to the world than what the Greeks were willing to see. There is a spiritual component and G-d is with us in everything that we do.

Several weeks ago the Lost Tribe was gracious enough to take me for another motorcycle ride down to Surrey, VA. As I sat enjoying the thrill of sharp turns at 70 mph, I felt particular close to the asphalt and knew that I would need to say Tefillas Haderech (the traveler’s prayer). We made a stop in the quaint village of isle-of-white, parked our bikes and stood in a semi-circle. I explained that we would be asking G-d to keep us safe and healthy and out of harm’s way. The group nodded appreciatively and treated me to a resounding “Amein” when I finished.

Two statements from the riders told me that Tefillas Haderech had been a good idea:

‘If that is how fast all of you services are”, one fellow said, “I’m becoming Orthodox”.

The second fellow was a little more reverent. “So, will G-d be joining us on our ride now?” he wanted to know.

The idea of G-d coming along on our bike ride is still bouncing around in my head. G-d comes along with us, no matter who we are, where we are, or what we are doing. It should be obvious to us, but it sometimes isn’t.

We need to use the days of Chanukah to refocus and connect to the purity that powers our lives and has the ability to give meaning and depth to everything that we do. Whether we are holding the Menorah, leading an ox, sitting behind a desk, or riding a Harley, G-d is with us. He is on our side and an integral part of our lives.

Friday, November 11, 2011

The Rosh Yeshiva

While learning in the Mir Yeshiva, I once approached Reb Nosson Tzvi Finkel with a difficulty that I had encountered in a gemara in Kesuvos.

The Rosh Yeshiva listened carefully to my articulated question and spent several minutes in thought. I stood awkwardly and averted my gaze as he twitched uncontrollably and swayed back and forth in apparent discomfort. Finally, he turned and told me that there were two possible approaches to my question. He outlined both approaches, complimented me on my question, and wished me a good day.

I was so excited. The Rosh Yeshiva had acknowledged my question! Quickly, I ran to my seat, opened my gemara, and began to pursue the two approaches that he had outlined. By the end of the morning, I had several pages of notes and had formed a new picture of the entire sugya.

Later that same week, Reb Nosson Tzvi gave a shiur klali. There were several hundred Torah scholars in attendance and, to my delight, he opened the shiur with my question. He shared the two approaches that we had discussed and another two approaches that he had, apparently, thought of afterward. I was ecstatic and flattered. I bought a copy of the printed notes of the lecture and knew that I would always treasure the shiur that I had inspired with my brilliant question.

Several months later I happened upon the same idea in a printed essay written by Reb Nosson Tzvi. Looking at the date of publication, I quickly realized that Reb Nosson Tzvi had thought of the question and explanation long before I had even opened my Gemara. He had written at length on the topic and come to the same conclusions many years before.

Reb Nosson Tzvi could have told me to look on page 66 of the Yad Eliezer, but he didn’t. Instead he chose to guide me and inspire me to find the answer on my own.

A Rosh Yeshiva is a teacher. He is not just the smartest man in the room, the policy setter, or the biggest tzaddik. He is a man who’s primary desire and goal in this world is to help young students develop into true Talmidei Chachamim.

The Gemara is very particular about teachers of Torah. A teacher of Torah, we are taught, must remind us of a heavenly angel.

What kind of angel is a Rosh Yeshiva?

Rav Yitzchak Ezrachi explains that every blade of grass and every flower is assigned an angel. The angel’s sole purpose is to stand over that grass or flower and encourage it to grow. Likewise, our Torah teachers need to be willing to stand over us and encourage us to grow. They need to be reminiscent of those angels.

Not all of my encounters with Reb Nosson Tzvi were flattering and buoyant. He could be very firm and did not always mince words. My ears are still ringing from a particular rebuke that Reb Nosson Tzvi whispered into my ear. At the time, I was confused by the rebuke and enthused by the compliments. Today, I can look back and just feel fortunate that a man such as he took the time to stand over me, look me in the eye, and tell me to grow.

Yehi Zichro Baruch.

On Parshas Vayeira: http://www.torahlab.org/outoftheloop/the_mayor_who_comes_to_bar_mitzvas/

Tuesday, November 01, 2011

Am Ha’aretz

A friend of mine is the founder and director of a gardening program at the University of Maryland. They plant a garden, tend to it, and donate the fruits to the needy.

The students at Maryland call their program ‘Am Ha’aretz’, but I think that it could just as successfully be a program for budding Talmidei Chachamim. Not for me, because I hate gardening, but for the kids out there who want to work hard at Gemara for ten hours a day and plant cucumbers at night.

I read in The Google Story that the owners of Google have always encouraged their engineers to spend 20% of their time - about one day a week - working on personal projects that interest them. Gmail, Google News, and more than fifty percent of Google’s new products are a result of this creativity time. It is considered one of the secrets of Google’s success.

Google instituted the 20% policy to attract creative and talented people. The founders of Google understood that the brightest minds work best in environments that encourage and support creativity. Most of the personal projects don’t work or make no money, but Google always wins because they have the loyalty of the world’s best programmers and engineers.

Imagine if we could make this program a part of our culture. We already have highly motivated young men and women devoting their spare time to personal studies and chessed, but what if we encouraged them and gave them license to learn anything they wanted?

Imagine a yeshiva where students were encouraged to spend an hour and a half a day learning a subject of their choice. Students could choose Chassidus, Nach, Zeraim, Rambam, Tur, Shulchan Aruch, Rav Nachman’s stories, Taamei Haminhagim, Seder Hadoros, Medrash, Zohar, Ramban, Mussar, Responsa, Astronomy, Practical Rabbinics, Chofetz Chaim, Dikduk, Yerushalmi, or Gemara and Rashi. They could choose to learn quickly or slowly, to study one sefer in depth or to check out every commentary on the topic, to study alone or with a chavrusa, in their rooms, outside, or in the Beis Medrash.

Nobody would lose, because 80% of the time would still be spent on core curriculum; everybody would gain, because students who are already motivated they would be driven and satisfied by the opportunity to learn where their neshama leads them.

And what about the boys who aren’t driven to learn anything at all, or the boys who are satisfied to learn ‘just’ eight hours a day? Couldn’t they use their 20% to follow their hearts? We learn so much about how Noach cultivated kindness by caring for the animals and how Avraham built our nation on a foundation of Chessed. Why not let those students use their 20% to make their mark on the world?

Perhaps even more important are the students who deal with emotional and psychological challenges. What if they could devote 20% of their time learning more about themselves, their self worth, and their personal strategies for growth?

In my limited experience, I’ve found that kids who have trouble with the Yeshiva or Bais Yaakov system have trouble with just one thing. The “one thing” could be clothes, hair, music, or friends, but it is usually just one issue that makes it difficult for them to embrace the other 80% of the system that they love. I’ve found that even the students who are successful are not immune to frustrations – maybe they want to learn something else or at a different pace – it’s just that the nature of their frustrations make them easier to overcome and deal with.

Maybe we need an 80/20 formula. If a student is embracing 80% of ‘the system’, maybe we need to give them space to explore the other 20% on their own. As long as they are respecting halacha and not causing harm to themselves or others, maybe we need to let them be.

Many years ago, Rav Moshe Feinstein suggested that we give 10% (maaser) of our learning time to others. Maybe we need to take Google’s lead and teach our students to give 20% (a chomesh) of their productive time to themselves.

Jesse Rabinowitz and his troop of Am Ha’aratzim are exercising their “20%”. They are spending their time on a project that runs counter to the expectations that people have of serious Jewish college students, but they are not doing anything that precludes them from being serious Jewish college students. Am Ha’aretz tells me that their motivation is 100% Torah based and that they have regular learning sessions to connect Torah agricultural practices to their mission. They are doing something which is fulfilling and productive, but not at all expected. We need to encourage others to do the same.

The Torah doesn’t tell us to be successful despite our ambitions and aspirations; the Torah tells us to become successful by identifying the unique ambitions and aspirations that lie deep in our neshamos. Hashem told Avraham: “Lech Lecha!” –“Go to yourself!”, and at a time when the whole world was going one way, Avraham and Sarah were able to do just that. They picked themselves up and went the other way. They were doing something that had never been done before and they weren’t sure exactly where they were going or how things were going to turn out, but Hashem promised that as long as they followed in His ways it would be a journey full of bracha, hatzlacha, and closeness to Hashem.

For more on Lech Lecha see http://www.torahlab.org/calendar/article/blessing_of_the_bikers/

torahlab.org/outoftheloop

Thursday, October 06, 2011

The Letter

Before my last trip to Israel, I invited my third grade students to write notes to Hashem. There is an ancient custom to put messages in the Kosel and I thought that it would be a meaningful and worthy exercise. I promised not to read the notes and encouraged the students to put serious thought into the words that they would write.

I watched with apprehension and awe as one girl wrote her letter with tears pouring down her cheeks. I knew that she was not crying because of the letter, but about some of the challenges that she was describing. It was awful to see her crying but touching to know to whom she was crying. I carefully placed all of the letters into one sealed envelope and packed it away for my trip. I assured the students that I would be a faithful messenger.

Later that night I received an emergency phone call. One girl had been home with the flu. Was there time to bring her letter over to my house?

The girl had used a tiny florist’s envelope to hold her letter. I don’t know what was on the note inside the envelope, but on the front of the envelope was a simple message in the careful handwriting of a ten-year-old:

“To: Hashem; From Chana”.

I don’t know what came over me, but I was overcome with emotion and struck by the beauty and plaintiveness of the letter. I stuck the envelope into my pocket and kept it with me as I boarded the plane a few hours later.

A trip to Eretz Yisroel is always an emotional experience, but this time I felt like so many of my emotions were articulated in that simple envelope. All of the logistics, politics, planning, excitement, and trepidation were encapsulated in those four words on the outside of the envelope. I was going to the land of Hashem and Hashem was waiting for and listening to my prayers.

I couldn’t control myself. I showed the envelope to my sister when she met me in New York and to the Rosh Yeshiva who sat down next to me on the plane. I showed it to the woman behind me on the escalator and to the couple in line with me at the border. I showed to a Christian Pilgrim at the baggage claim and to my family when I arrived at the wedding.

Finally, faithfully, even lovingly, I placed the tiny letters from the little girls into an ancient crack between the age worn stones of the Kosel.

I hope that all of my prayers are as pure and uncomplex as the prayers of those small children. I hope that we all merit to see our prayers find their way to Hashem’s throne as He blesses us with a year of purity, sincerity, sensitivity, and connection to Hashem.

Tuesday, October 04, 2011

Yom Kippur

In Parshas Haazinu, Moshe addressed the Heavens and the Earth.

The Medrash observes that if Moshe addressed the heavens, we can assume that they were affected by the words of Torah. If the words of Torah have the power to affect the heavens and the earth, they surely have the power to affect us.

The same is true in the reverse. Exposure to words of hatred, deceit, and immorality, has the power to make us hateful deceitful and immoral.

The Parsha goes on to describe what the Ramban describes as the natural cycle of the Jewish people. We are inspired by the Torah and achieve great things only to be led astray by the luxuries and ideas that we become exposed to. Finally, Hashem says “I will marginalize them; I will erase their memory”.

Thankfully, Hashem does not go through with his plans. “When Hashem judges his people; He changes His mind” - Hashem reconsiders, as it were, and does not allow us to fade into oblivion.

Why does Hashem change His mind in the midst of judgment? The Ramban writes that this is as a result of Moshes prayer on Yom Kippur. After the Jewish people sinned with the Golden Calf, Hashem told Moshe that he would destroy the Jewish people. For Forty days, Moshe begged Hashem to ‘protect His investment’ and not allow us to be completely destroyed. Finally, on Yom Kippur Hashem said, as we do at Kol Nidrei: “Salachti Kidvarecha” – “I have forgiven you”.

The Chidushei Harim writes that this is the meaning if the blessing of “Magen Avraham”. We thank Hashem three times daily for actively protecting the spark of Avraham within us. Even as we (sometines) work to extinguish that spark through what we hear and what we do, Hashem keeps His promise to Moshe and does not allow us to disappear.

On Yom Kippur, Hashem gives us a chance to separate ourselves from what we have become and return to that tiny spark. We have a chance to do teshuva and to make real changes. If we can keep from slipping back into our old habits, we can become truly changed people.

At a recent Sheva Berachos, my father told a story about Rav Chaim Sanzer.

Rav Chaim was once travelling in a wagon between two cities. As always, he was dressed regally in a noble peltz and all of the accoutrement befitting a Rebbe. Suddenly, the wagon slipped into a ditch. After coaxing the horses with no success, the driver turned apologetically to the Rebbe and asked him to help push the wagon. He then borrowed the Rebbe’s coat and put it under the wheels to help them gain purchase. Finally, he asked the Rebbe to get between the horses and help them pull the wagon out of the pit.

At this point the Rebbe was standing in his tzitzis, freezing, and caked in mud. He asked for a moment to pray.

“Ribono shel Olam!” he said, “I am sure that you have put me into this situation because I have sinned and need to repent. I will repent, but I cannot repent here in a ditch among the horses and covered with mud. Take me out of the pit. Bring me to a place of comfort. Then, I will do a proper Teshuva”.

And so it was.

Every year, on Yom Kippur, Hashem gives a chance to emerge from the pit which is our lives. He gives us a day of purity and cleanliness and a chance to do Teshuva.

This Yom Kippur, may we all merit to cleanse ourselves of all of our Aveiros and allow our true selves to shine.

G’mar Chasima Tova.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Who Was Rav Mordechai Feinstein?

We will never know who was Rav Mordechai Feinstein was.

Rav Moshe Feinstein was a well-known tzaddik and one of the foremost Halachic authorities of his generation. He wrote thousands of brilliant Teshuvos (responsa) and published seven volumes of Igros Moshe during his lifetime. An eighth volume was published several years ago and a ninth volume of Igros Moshe was published this month.

The ninth volume includes a section of responsa by Rav Moshe’s brother, Rav Mordechai Feinstein. It is twelve pages long.

I read the letters of Reb Mordechai and was mesmerized by their style. I was treated to a glimpse of Reb Mordechai’s scholarship and his clever and encompassing approach to issues. It was easy to get a feel for Reb Mordechai’s love of Torah and his burning desire to fulfill the will of Hashem.

I did some research into the Feinstein family and learned that at the beginning of the Bolshevik Revolution both Rav Moshe Feinstein and Rav Mordechai Feinstein led communities in Russia. They possessed a level of scholarship that, according to Reb Chaim Ozer Grodzensky, belonged to previous generations. They were throwbacks to earlier times. They were also Rabbis at a time when Judaism was all but illegal. Rav Mordechai ran a secret yeshiva in Shklov and Rav Moshe worked secretly to make the local municipal pool into a Kosher Mikva. Both brothers represented a level of sacrifice and love for Torah that we can only aspire to reach.

As it became apparent that there would not be another generation of Jewish Education in Russia, Rav Moshe Feinstein left the country and immigrated to New York. Over the next five decades, he was a source of halachic decisions, guidance, and advice to hundreds of thousands of Jews around the world. He was instrumental in teaching American Jewry how to apply ancient rules to modern shores. By the time of his passing in the 1980’s, he was considered by many to be the last word in Halacha. His volumes of responsa have become classics and can be found anywhere that Halacha is studied.

Reb Mordechai Feinstein did not come to America. He remained in Russia where he continued to teach Torah in secret. Many of his students did not survive the revolution and the war. Almost nothing remains of his teachings beyond the twelve pages in ninth volume of Igros Moshe.

One of the letters that we have from Rav Mordechai was written just before Rosh Hashana in 1923. It was written to Reb Mordechai’s uncle, Rabbi Yaacov Kantrowitz, and he alludes to some of the difficulties that they were facing in Russia. Knowing what I know, I couldn’t help but cry as I read Rav Mordechai’s concluding words to his uncle:

“May Hashem grant you and your family a year of health of the body and soul and clarity of mind. May you have a year of happiness, peace, and true peace. May you see Nachas from your children in Kletzk and may you watch them become truly great people…

Mordechai Feinstein”

We now know that many of the prayers of Rav Mordechai were not fulfilled: Rabbi Kantrowitz’s son Yitzchok Yechiel was murdered by the Nazis outside Vilna. His daughter, Cheina Gittel, never left Leningrad and did not survive the war.

Rav Mordechai Feinstein himself was arrested not too long afterward. The Yevsektsia took him from his table while he was celebrating the holiday of Shavuos. They sent him to Siberia for the “crime” of teaching Torah and he was never heard from again.

Both Rav Moshe and Rav Mordechai lived holy lives that are worthy of our envy, but we can’t help but wonder what could have been if Rav Mordechai had lived long enough to parallel the great life of his brother.

We cannot question the ways of Hashem, but we can appreciate the questions that we ask ourselves on Rosh Hashana: Who will live? Who will prosper? Who will make a difference in the lives of others? Who will see nachas from their children? Who will celebrate Simchos with their friends? Who will realize their aspirations and who will have the chance to accomplish all that they can in this world?

This is the time of year when we need to think about what was and what could have been. We need to ask Hashem for the strength and opportunity to achieve everything that we are capable of.

May we all merit a year of true peace and prosperity. May we realize all of our dreams and experience only happiness and nachas. Most importantly, may we learn to take nothing for granted.

Kesiva V’Chasima Tova.

Read more about Elul and Rosh Hashana by downloading a collation of past posts and essays at http://www.torahlab.org/images/uploads/Elul_and_Rosh_Hashana_Collection_2011.pdf

Friday, September 16, 2011

Moving Forward

A number of years ago, my car hit high water. I called for help and AAA sent me a mechanic with North Carolinean plates. He had only two or three teeth, which he used endearingly to chew and spit real tobacco as he spoke.

The Mechanic explained to me that he had gotten out of bed at 4:00 AM so that he could drive up to Virginia and save stranded motorists. He looked over my car and got ready to give it a boost. He gave me his legal disclaimer:

“This might fix y’all’s car, but it could also fry y’all’s ‘lectricals”.

It seems that since the car was so saturated in moisture, there was a risk that the boost might cause the electrical system to short. If my ‘lectricals were fried, the car would never be the same. The windows wouldn’t open, the locks wouldn’t work, and the radio would fritz. My other option was to allow the car to dry out for three days, so I decided to take the chance and told him to go ahead with the boost.

The mechanic hooked up the wires, turned on the juice, disconnected the wires, and ran back to his truck. He fastened his seatbelt, rolled down his window, and, as he prepared to drive off, instructed me to wait a few minutes before trying to start the engine.

“Aren’t you going to wait to see what happens?” I asked.

“Naw”. (spit)

I pointed out to my new friend that he had been up since 4:00 am helping people. He had driven all the way up from North Carolina. He had worked in the pouring rain for hours. Yet, he would never know whether he had really saved someone’s day or just “fried their ‘ectricals”.

“That’s ‘boot right”, he said.

I’m not sure how that mechanic lives with himself. As human beings we need to know that our actions have an effect on people and that we are changing this world for the better.

Even the greatest and most selfless people yearn to see the impact of their actions. Rabbi Sternberg of Park Avenue in Monsey told me that he once consulted Rav Shach about an issue that he was dealing with. A few days later, Rabbi Strernberg came back to Rav Shach to let him know that he had taken his advice and that everything had worked out. Rav Shach, who had been in his seat in the Ponevizh Yeshiva, took Rabbi Sternberg by the shoulder, led him out of the Beis Medrash and kissed him.

“Hundreds of people come to me with their problems”, he explained, “they ask for my blessings and for my advice, but they never come back. I worry about those people, I carry the burden of those people and I pray for those people. I wish that they would let me know when everything works out and they are able to go on with their lives. Thank you for coming back.”

Last week my Chavrusa and friend Jimmy Ellenson and I celebrated a Siyum on Maseches Eduyos. We have finished several Masechtos together but this was to be our last siyum for a while. Jimmy is making Aliyah (and I am not).

We both spoke at the Siyum and acknowledged that we had influenced each other in profound ways. We didn’t just cover material; we developed an approach to the material. We evolved in our thinking and learned to agree and disagree about many issues. Jimmy got me through some tough times with his advice and assistance. He provided me with academic material and concepts that I would not have considered otherwise. I, in turn, encouraged Jimmy to learn like a Yeshiva Bochur would and allow the melody and the flow of the Gemara to surround him and take over his mind and soul.

In a constantly changing world, where you never know whether you enhanced somebody’s life or just ‘fried their ‘lectricals’, it is heartening to know that we have made a difference in each other’s lives.

I will miss Jimmy and look forward to the day when we can continue to learn together in our holy land, with or before the coming of Moshiach.

In honor of the siyum, I put some of our notes into book form. It is our humble contribution to a very small body of literature on Eduyos. The Electronic version is available at http://www.torahlab.org/images/uploads/Eduyos_booklet.pdf.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

A Blind Man’s Outlook

My Great-Uncle Nat was blind. As kids we were fascinated by his talking watch and the way that he counted steps. We would talk about how all of his clothing were matching so that he could get himself dressed in the morning. We did not fully grasp the implication of his handicap. We just thought that it was cool.

Once, while davening at his shul in Florida, a friend pointed out that Uncle Nat was using someone else’s tallis bag. He had apparently swapped it accidentally and had been using it, unaware that the name embroidered on the front was not his own. Nobody recognized the name on the bag and Uncle Nat, who travelled around a bit, had no idea where he had picked it up. He decided that he would continue to use the bag. One day, somebody might recognize the name and help him return it.

Three years later Uncle Nat was in Lawrence sitting Shiva for his sister, my Aunt Hattie. As groups of people made their way through the house, one man recognized his Tallis bag and asked if he could have it back.

Uncle Nat began to cry tears of joy. I don’t remember the exact words that he used, but it went something like this:

“I am over ninety years old and blind. When does a man like me get the opportunity to return a lost object? Blind men don’t find things. I thank G-d for giving me the opportunity to do this Mitzvah before I die.”

He kissed the tallis bag and returned it to its proper owner.

We need to thank G-d that we have the ability to help others.

Friday, August 12, 2011

The Land of Love

Moshe Rabbeinu led an accomplished life. He took us out of Egypt, got us the Torah and pleaded our case before Hashem on ten different occasions. He brought Hashem and the Torah to the eyes of the world. Still, Moshe was unsatisfied because he could not enter the land of Israel. In Parshas Va’eschanan, Moshe begged in 515 different ways to enter the land. If he could not enter as a leader, he would enter as a simple person, a bird, a stone, or even a gust of wind. Moshe understood the beauty of Eretz Yisroel.

The verse tells us that servants of Hashem love even the dust and the stones of the land of Israel.

At the same time, there were another group of people – the Bnei Gad and the Bnei Reuvain. They came to Moshe with a request: “Please do not send us across the Jordan. We do not want to enter Israel. We want to stay here.”

One could imagine Moshe’s response to these tribes. They needed to open up their eyes to the beauty of Israel and the holiness of its stones. He could have told them about the site of the Bais Hamikdash and about the Mearas Hamachpeila. He didn’t.

Instead Moshe lectured the tribes Gad and Reuvain on empathy. “Will you stay here while your brothers go to war? Will you throw cold water on their excitement and shatter their resolve to enter the holy land?”
Moshe Rabbeinu realized that the tribes of Gad and Reuvain were not ready to hear about the dust and stones of the land of Israel. They would have time for those regrets later. The first step, the important step now, was for them to hear about the beauty of their fellow Jews. They needed to be thinking about each other and about what their decision not to cross the Yardein would do to their cousins in the Shevatim of Dan and Naftali.

The Gemara in Gittin tells us that Jerusalem was destroyed because of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza. We are sitting on the floor today because Kamtza was insulted. Who was Bar Kamtza? We don’t know a lot about him, but we do know that he encouraged the Caesar to attack the Jews. Not a very good guy, but good enough that we were punished because people like him were mistreated.
As we rise from the ashes of Tisha B’av we need to look around us and learn to appreciate every single person. We need to find something to admire in every person and we need to do everything we can to avoid insulting another person.

When it comes to actions that are between us and Hashem, we can always claim that we had good intentions. If we thought the food was Kosher or we forgot that it was Shabbos our sins make less of an impact. By contrast, when it comes to actions between people intentions don’t always matter. If someone is insulted, he is insulted. He may be reacting unreasonably, but we see from Bar Kamtza that that unreasonable reaction has the potential to cause us just as much pain as a reasonable reaction. If not more.

We have just finished mourning the tragedies we have experienced as a nation. It is time to yearn for the air and the dust and the water of Eretz Yisroel.

Moshe Rabbeinu has taught us that we do not prepare for our journey by reading travel books and studying satellite images on Google Earth. We prepare for the final Geulah by learning how to treat he people around us and training ourselves to value every person and the effect that we can have on him or her.

In Australia there was a man named Tom. He could be difficult to deal with but everyone had patience for him because they knew that his shortcomings were not his fault. He had been through the holocaust.
One thing that Tom did that was completely out of character was bake cherry pies. Often, when there was a Bris or a Kiddush, Tom would come to the kitchen and bake a beautiful pie. He would top it with crisscrossed strips of dough and present it to the Baalei Simcha.

It turns out that when Tom was in the concentration camps he worked as a chef. He would bake beautiful pies or the Nazi officers and it hurt him to no end. When he finally got out of the camps he set about fixing the problem. He made pies for people celebrating happy occasions. In this way he could brighten up a world that the Nazis had sought to darken forever.

We need to emerge from Tisha B’av ready to go further. We need to solve the world’s problems and bring about the ultimate redemption. We can do this by thinking about others and brightening their lives.

(Sources: Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz, Rav Peretz Tarshish)

Friday, June 17, 2011

Branching Out

Sometimes I get the feeling that my Turkish ancestors are staring at me. They probably wonder why I’m wearing a black Fedora and not a Red Fez with a pom-pom. They wonder why I rush through some parts of davening and relegate others to long, drawn out marches. They probably wonder about my accent, my mannerisms and my kids who carry the names of deceased relatives rather than more familiar names like Mazaltov and Machlouf.

Yitzhak ben Tzvi compared the Jewish people to the Paroches in the Mishkan. He wrote that we are a tapestry made up of many different threads. We all come together to make something beautiful, but when we are apart our similarities disappear. His words were beautiful and they are printed on every twenty sheqel note in Israel.

I think he was wrong.

We are not the Paroches; we are the Menorah. The Menorah was made of one solid piece of gold, yet it forms seven diverse branches. We are all united at the core and made of the same stuff.

To often, we try to shove one type of Jew into another Jew’s clothing. We think that Jews who believe the same way must feel and act the same way as well. When my great-grandparents were impressed they would use words like “W’allah” or “Harika”; when my students are impressed they say “Awesome!” or “Beast”. They have the same belief systems but different ways of expressing themselves.

Last Shabbos I had the opportunity to spend time at the Bar Mitzvah of one of my favorite students. It was a Purely Sefardic Shabbos and it was packed with songs, mannerisms, and customs that I was not used to. I thought about my Sefardi grandparents and allowed their blood to course through my veins for just one weekend. It worked, and it opened up my eyes to the vastly different ways that my students relate to Yiddishket. Each one of my students has a different Neshama with different interests, different emotions, different sensitivities, and different motivations. In my Tefillos, I thought of my graduating students and prayed that I had respected the individuality of each and every one of them. The Bar Mitzvah boy made my day when he reached the end of his speech and proclaimed his unique thanks:

“Rabbi Haber”, he intoned, “thank you for teaching me Torah. You are a Beast Rebbe!”

Nobody was sure what he meant, but I’m sure that my ancestors were proud.

Tuesday, June 07, 2011

Taking the Plunge

Three thousand three hundred and seventeen years ago, Moshe announced to the Jewish people that He would be ascending Har Sinai to receive the Torah for the Jewish people. The Jewish people protested. They said: “רצוננו לראות את מלכנו” – we want to see our G-d; we want to receive the Torah directly from it’s author. Moshe transmitted the Jewish peoples’ beautiful request to Hashem. Hashem agreed and gave Moshe detailed instructions on how the people must prepare and purify themselves for a three-day period. The people rejoiced at the news and enthusiastically threw themselves into the task of preparing to literally ‘meet their creator’ and receive his Torah.

By the third day everything was in place. The purification process was completed and at dawn and shofaros and thunder were heard. The presence of Hashem began to descend on Har Sinai.

Nobody showed up.

Moshe quickly ran back to the camp and spoke to the people. He woke them, comforted them, calmed them, and convinced them to come to Har Sinai and receive the Torah. Our sages tell us that Hashem himself came toward the camp to greet and encourage our forefathers as they gathered beneath the mountain to receive the Torah.

This is very strange. The Jewish begged for an audience with Hashem, but needed to be convinced to attend!

As children we are taught that the Jewish people were sleepyheads – they just forgot to set their alarm clocks. This does not explain what happened to the initial excitement , the statement of ‘retzoneinu lir’os es malkeinu- we want to see our G-d’.

The Jewish people had been the Chosen people since the times of Avraham and the Bris Bein Habesarim. Nonetheless, this was the first time that the people were forced to make a commitment to Hashem. It could be said that until now the Jewish people had enjoyed a very long engagement. Har Sinai was to be the wedding ceremony between Bnai Yisroel and Hashem. The Torah was the contract, the rules and the promises that came with the relationship. When it came to actually tying the knot our forefathers were scared. They were the first (and only) nation in history to enter into a covenant with G-d. All of the other nations refused the Torah out right but the Jewish people – with a little encouragement from Moshe and from Hashem himself were able to take the plunge, tie the knot and make the commitment.

Generations later we have a close relationship with Hashem because our forefathers made that plunge.

Sometimes in order to grow as people and as Jews we need to be strong enough to do something new; to take on something daunting. often we do not need that strength, because it’s already been done by our fathers and their fathers before them.

We can stay up studying Torah on Shavuos with no apprehension or fear because our grandfathers already jumped that hurdle and showed us how wonderful a close relationship with Hashem can be.

At a wedding there is a minhag for the Chossan to step forward to greet the Kallah as she walks down to the Chuppa. Every Friday night we sing the words “Lechah Dodi Likraas Kallah” asking Hashem to please come out and greet us and encourage us once again just as He did at Har Sinai and bring Moshiach speedily in our days.

Material Related to Shavuos:
The Defining Moment http://www.torahlab.org/outoftheloop/definition/
Threee on Makom Torah http://www.torahlab.org/outoftheloop/by_invitation_only/

Friday, June 03, 2011

Getting the Hint

In Parshas Nasso each one of the Nesi’im (Tribal leaders) had a chance to participate in the inauguration of the Mishkan. Each day another Nasi would be bring the sacrifice, and each day the Nasi’s sacrifice would mimic the sacrifice of the Nasi before him.

A cursory look into the Midrash Rabbah shows us that the sacrifices were not identical at all. Each nasi had his own unique and independent thoughts in mind when he made his offering. Each brought the same silver, the same animals and the same incense, but each sacrifice was totally different.

Tonight I had the privilege of hearing a talk from Rabbi Shabsi Werther. Rabbi Werther used to be my principal and he put a lot of effort into training me as a teacher. I was friendly with his son Sholom Benayahu and even spoke at his Bar Mitzvah where he made a Siyum on a large portion of Mishnayos. Unfortunately, Sholom died nineteen months ago as a result of a hit and run accident.

Our local institutions began a program in memory of Shalom. Every Thursday night, boys from the elementary school get together with boys from the high school and learn Mishnayos in Shalom’s memory. There are prizes and treats, but one of the greatest treats is Rabbi Werther’s yearly visit to address the boys and thank them.

Rabbi Werther spoke about how each and every Jew is hinted to in the Torah. Rabbi Werther has found dozens of hints to his son Shalom’s life in the Torah and he made the point that none of us have a right to feel insignificant or unimportant. Each and every one of us is a piece of Hashem’s plan and each of us has something unique to offer. There is a purpose to every life and it can be found in the Torah.

What a beautiful thought to hear from a parent who lost his child. Every child is special. Every person is unique. Rather than wallow in grief, Rabbi Werther sees the purpose of his son’s tragically short life in every piece of Torah he learns.

Where can we be found?

Rabbi Werther’s new book: Zayis Ra’anan: The Gift of the Fresh Olive, can be found at“>http://www2.xlibris.com/books/webimages/wd/99021/index.html"> http://www2.xlibris.com/books/webimages/wd/99021/index.html

A previous article on Sholom can be found at http://www.torahlab.org/outoftheloop/the_grandest_finale/

Friday, May 27, 2011

If You Can Read This T-shirt - My Rabbi Fell Off

Have you ever been stuck at a traffic light next to a Harley Davidson? Did you watch the driver fidget and crank his motor? Did the roar when he or she finally took off scare you out your mind?

You shouldn’t be scared; You should be inspired.

Bikers know that it is hard to balance a bike when you are standing still and that it is very frustrating to sit on top of a sixty-five horsepower engine and go nowhere. Bikers also know that the roar of a Harley is indicative of potential. Both the engine and the rider want to see that potential actualized.

Our souls work in much the same way. There is a quiet but powerful voice within us that wants to roar with spirituality. It wants to break loose, speed forward and conquer the open road. We are the custodians of powerful and frustrated engines that are yearning to exercise their true potential.

Almost one hundred years ago, Rabbi Yisroel Meir Kagan of Radin wrote a book on Proper Speech and tried selling it door-to-door. He found that many people refused to buy it. The idea of changing habits of speech was simply beyond the collective imagination. Rabbi Kagan was not discouraged. “It was worth writing my book”, he said, “if just one Jew give a krechtz and spends a moment thinking about proper speech”.

We can never underestimate the power of a krechtz and its’ role in articulating the yearning of a Jewish soul.

Two weeks ago I was riding on the back of bike #10 in a procession of hundreds of Jewish Bikers commemorating the holocaust. I lifted my visor and took a good look at the crowds lining the roads and staring at us. Many of the spectators were unaffiliated Jews who had no idea that we were coming. They didn’t know that Jewish Bikers existed, much less three hundred of them. I thought about all of the Jewish Bikers who weren’t riding with us. They must have felt a twinge of guilt and yearning when they watched us roar by. They might have thought about their Judaism for the first time in years. They might have wished that they could be like those proud Jews who wave their Jewish Flags, play their Jewish music and belong to clubs with names like Lost Tribe, Chai Rider, and Hillel’s Angel’s. We probably made a lot of people Krechtz that day.

Many of the riders at the convention are very active Jews. Others were just born Jewish. They may not keep Kosher or go to shul or think about G-d much, but their pent up Jewish souls are turning over, trying to break loose. They may not know Kaddish from Cottage Cheese, but they ride as Jews and something drove them to gather together for a Jewish event.

Elena Baum, head of the Federation’s Holocaust commission, was speechless when we showed up at the JCC’s Holocaust Memorial. I guess she’d never been visited by three hundred bikers before. She was a little bit intimidated - but proud. Our local rabbis and community leaders all commented on the Jewish Pride of the Bikers. The short Divrei Torah and Divrei Brocha were well received and they were peppered with enthusiastic shouts of “Amein” and “Am Yisroel Chai”. Cameras rolled as Rabbi Silver (of Bnai israel) spoke passionately about the need to perpetuate the memory of the Six Million through deeds as well as thought. The Biker Rebbe, Reb Zachary “Zig Zag” Betesh spoke of the sparks that can be gathered from the road and the miles of asphalt that make up his shul. I shared a few short words before leading the assembled in the traditional Traveler’s Prayer and at the end of the service everyone stood solemnly as Chazzan Berman recited a stirring Kel Maleh Rachamim.  The Ride to Remember was a powerful experience and one that will be reflected upon for a long time to come.

Ten years ago, when I first told my grandfather that I was moving to Norfolk, VA, he was horrified. He had been here as a sailor in World War II, and was sure that I’d be living above a tattoo parlor and next door to a bar. Understandably, he never saw the motorcycle thing coming. Today, as he looks at pictures of his Norfolk einekel clad in a do-rag and wearing leather jackets, he sees the more spiritual side of Norfolk. He sees a bunch of tough looking guys who compete for the opportunity to carry to a Yeshiva Bochur with tzitzis for hundreds of miles on their Harley. Guys who are willing to call the most distant Jew and say: “You’re Jewish - come ride with us”.

So next time you hear a biker gunning his engine at a red light, think about his Neshama - and yours. Krechtz a little bit. Think about what you have always known that you can accomplish. When the light turns green - ‘let her rip’. Go full speed ahead and don’t stop moving. Don’t slow down until you have made your unique mark on the world that Hashem has given you.

I shared with those assembled at the Ride that Hitler thought that we would never survive. He even commissioned a museum to commemorate “The Lost Race”. Our job is to show the world that the Race is still on. Collectively and individually, we are still here and we are still riding.

Am Yisroel Chai!

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