New Year's Resolutions and Jewish Thought

Originally posted on Huffington Post.

As we prepare for the new calendar year, it is interesting to look at the Jewish nature of some of the most common New Year's Resolutions:

1. Lose Weight/Start Exercising/Eat Healthy Food
The mitzvah of saving a life (pikuach nefesh) is so great that it precedes most other mitzvot and applies to one's own life as well. Taking care of one's personal health, whether that means eating a healthier diet, exercising or even making certain to go for an annual check-up, is part of the mitzvah that the sages connect to the commandment of Deuteronomy 4:15: "And you shall watch yourselves very well."

2. Take Better Care of the Environment
Judaism has always placed great emphasis on taking care of the world, because the world was created by God. An important component of the Jewish view of the universe is that our very existence is a gift that comes with a responsibility. The sages inform us that "When the Holy One, blessed be God, created the first human ... God said to Adam, 'See my works how good and praiseworthy they are? And all that I have created I made for you. [But] be mindful then that you do not spoil and destroy My world -- for if you do spoil it, there is no one after you to repair it'" (Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:13).

3. Refrain from Gossip
People do the most damage to each other with their mouths. Damage done with our hands, such as injuries, thefts, etc, can usually be repaired. Words, however, are like feathers in the wind -- they fly too fast to catch and can never be retrieved. Jewish law regards lashon harah, wicked speech such as gossip and slander, as one of the worst of the transgressions that one may commit against fellow humans.

4. Give to Charity
Ideally, people should have no qualms about supporting those in need. The Torah, however, recognizes that charity is not necessarily a natural instinct, and therefore mandates the giving of tzedakah (charity): "If there be among you a needy man, one of your brethren, within any of your gates, in your land which God gives to you, you shall not harden your heart, nor shut your hand from your needy brother; but you shall surely open your hand to him, and shall surely lend him sufficient for his need" (Deuteronomy 15:7-8).

Additionally, Jews are obligated in the mitzvah of ma'aser, which means a 10th (often translated as "tithe"). In ancient times, each Jew was required to give 1/10th of the produce of the fields to the Levite, and an additional tenth to the poor or to support Jerusalem. Today, ma'aser is generally given from both one's regular income and from any additional monies that come to a person, such as bank interest, an inheritance or a monetary gift. Because of the intricacies of the laws and differences in situations, it is recommended that one seek the help of a qualified rabbi to properly allocate one's ma'aser.

5. Spend More Time with Family
In the day-to-day hubbub of our 21st century world, we are wired and wireless. Through our smartphones and tablets we are now truly available 24/7. Even on vacation, we are likely to be accessible. It seems like there is no break.

Jewish life brings a whole new meaning to TGIF, Thank God It's Friday. With the start of Shabbat (25 hours, starting a little before sunset on Friday) all electrical devices are turned off. No phones or e-mail. One is meant to actually sit down with their families and friends and enjoy each other's company, taking time to relax, talk, visit. It's a relief not to be bound to others, to actually have a day, once a week, when we answer to no person.

6. Manage the Budget
Avak gezel refers to situations in which one had no intention of stealing and, in truth, did not actually steal something, but yet caused a loss to someone else.

In his magnificent compilation of Jewish law known as the Mishneh Torah, Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (Rambam, Spain/Egypt 12th century) notes that a person who eats a meal with a host who cannot afford to serve that meal has committed avak gezel. The Rambam clearly points out that this is not technically "legal robbery" but is forbidden because there is some element of robbery within this action (Hilchot Teshuva 4:4).

In truth, the laws of avek gezel can apply to one's self as well, and therefore one must make every attempt to maintain a budget and avoid debt.

7. Volunteer to Help Others
While giving to charity (tzedakah) is an act of kindness (chesed), an act of kindness is not charity. According to the Talmudic sage Rabbi Elazar, "Acts of Kindness are greater than charity, for it is said (Hosea 1:12), 'Sow to yourself according to your charity, but reap according to your kindness.' If a person sows, it is doubtful whether he will eat or not, but when a person reaps he will certainly eat it" (Sukkah 49b). The sages go on to explain that kindness is better than charity.

There are many ways in which a person can perform acts of kindness. Some of the best-known mitzvot associated with chesed are visiting the sick, welcoming guests, and helping a bride and groom get married. Many of the opportunities to involve one's self with these mitzvot come from being involved with organizations that focus on specific acts of kindness. Within the Jewish community, there are organizations for assisting the poor, helping those who are ill and their families, helping young people find their "soul-mates" and then helping them make a wedding, if needed, and many others.

8. Quit Smoking
Once upon a time, cigarette smoking was assumed to have many health benefits. After all, smokers seemed to feel refreshed and relaxed, a beneficial physical side effect. From a Torah perspective, the only apparent problem with smoking was lighting a cigarette on Shabbat (prohibited).

By the time the dangers of smoking became common knowledge, however, it was a common vice, and rabbinic authorities understood that an outright ban on smoking would be too difficult to enforce (especially given the addictive nature of nicotine). In relation to smoking, Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (regarded as one of the greatest Jewish legal minds of the 20th century), felt that he could not outlaw it based on the statement in Yebamot 72a: "Since many people are in the habit of disregarding these precautions, 'The Lord preserves the simple' (Psalms 116:6)." In his 1981 ruling, however, he not only strongly discouraged the habit, but also declared it forbidden to start. More recent rabbinc rulings have outrightly banned smoking.

9. Be Less Grumpy
"When one shows his teeth [smiles] to his fellow man, it is better than giving him milk to drink" (Ketubot 111b).

On the whole, smiling at another person makes them smile too (unless they are in a really bad mood). Imagine passing a smile down a street, "infecting" one person and then another. Unlike a virus, smiling is believed to have great health benefits! A wide range of professionals now believe that smiling not only makes you look better, but actually makes you feel better, perhaps even releasing a small dose of helpful endorphins.

Receiving a smile can change a person's entire perspective. More than just changing a passing mood, sincere smiles (sincerely, as is implied by the reference of showing one's teeth) build self esteem, they change how a person views the world and how a person feels that he/she is viewed by the world.

10. Further One's [Jewish] Education
This a goal that is often elusive. More and more Jews are leaving Jewish life with only basic knowledge about Judaism. Once upon a time, a Jew raised with little knowledge of his/her heritage was the exception, but, according to Jewish law, such a person could not be held responsible for Jewish law. However, one raised without this knowledge can also never know of the depth, ethics, intricacies and fully appreciate the beauty of Jewish life.

Today in North America, where several generations of Jews have been raised with only the most basic Jewish education, there are organizations such as NJOP/Jewish Treats, that strive to provide a more complete understanding of Judaism and Jewish life.

The Jewish Messiah and the End of Days

The question of whether or not Dec. 21 will be the end of the world has been a hot topic in the media. These speculations are based on the Mayan calendar coming to an end. This is not, however, the first time that the world has worried that the end was near.

There have been many who have claimed to have either deciphered or had a mystic revelation of the exact date of the end of the world (as we know it) and the coming of the final redemption. There have also been many who have declared themselves to be the Messiah -- the one who will bring about the ultimate redemption of humankind -- but have not lived up to their promises.

Although the concept of a Messiah* (Moshiach in Hebrew) and an end to the world as we know it is not overtly mentioned in the five books of the Torah, it is actually one of the fundamental articles of Jewish faith. As Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (Maimonides/Rambam) included in his 13 Principles of Faith (as popularly rendered): "I believe with perfect faith in the coming of the Messiah; and even though he may tarry, nevertheless, I wait each day for his coming."

The Torah does, however, describe the future that will befall the Jewish people when (not if) they turn their hearts from the Torah (Deuteronomy 28): The land will be destroyed, the people ravaged by disease before being defeated by enemies and exiled. These events have, sadly, come to pass, repeatedly.

Two chapters later, however, Moses informs the people that after all of the curses have befallen the Children of Israel and they have returned to Him with all their heart and soul, then the curse will be undone. This chapter includes all of the famous promises of the ultimate redemption: Ingathering of the exiles, return to the land and the destruction of Israel's enemies. While this process has started several times in the history of the Jewish people, it has never been completed. Jews have returned to Israel, but never in peace and never as an entire people.

Many of the details of the time of the redemption are encrypted in the books of the Prophets. Isaiah, in particular, contains a great number of references and is the primary source from which it is understood that the Messiah, the one destined to lead the Jewish people to their ultimate redemption, will come from the Davidic line. "And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse (King David's father), and a branch shall grow out of his roots: And the spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him" (Isaiah 11:1-2).

As fascinating as end-of-days prophecies and the coming of the Messiah may be, the Torah's only apparent reference to a time when redemption will come states: "And it shall come to pass, when all these things are come upon you, the blessing and the curse, which I have set before you, and you shall bethink yourself among all the nations, where the Lord your God has driven you" (Deuteronomy 30:1).

Trying to calculate the exact date of the final redemption is not a high priority for most Jewish scholars. Perhaps that is because Jewish law focuses on the here and now (which is the same reason for the unexpectedly vague discussions of the afterlife).

The Talmud states that "Seven things are hidden from humankind ... [one of them being] when the Davidic dynasty [the Messiah] will return; and when the wicked kingdom will come to an end" (Pesachim 54b).

Nevertheless, we do have some information about the coming of the Messiah. For instance, "Rabbi Kattina said: The world is to last six thousand years, and [for] one thousand it will be desolate" (Rosh Hashana 31a). Now, before one sits down to try to calculate those years (keeping in mind that the Hebrew year is 5763), it is important to consider the following statement by Rav: "All the predestined dates [for redemption] have passed, and the matter [now] depends only on repentance and good deeds" (Sanhedrin 97b).

Rav's statement not only supports the fact that humankind is unable to calculate the date of the coming of the Messiah and the end of the known world, but demonstrates that Judaism is fundamentally about the here and now.

*While the term Messiah is used for savior, it literally means "anointed one."

The Gift of Gifts

The other night, a friend of mine told me how incredulous she was about how strongly her husband’s family focussed on the gift-giving aspect of Chanukah. In her own traditional childhood, her family had only given children Chanukah gelt, a few pennies or coins. Her husband’s family, on the other hand, celebrates Chanukah with a large party and lots of gifts. The Chanukah menorah was lit, but that appears, in her opinion, to be the extent of tradition.

As I listened to my friend’s insights I noticed that I felt mildly uncomfortable. From a strictly traditional opinion, she was right: There is no historic tradition of gifts associated with Chanukah. On the other hand, my own memories are filled with warm recollections of my parents giving my brother and me little presents each night (and one or two big ones). Those long ago evenings, when my brother and I would ask over and over if my father would soon be home so we could light the menorah, as we tried to pretend that we weren’t really asking how soon until we could get presents, built a foundation for the Judaism that I knew I wanted to give to my own children.

Even before I chose a more traditional lifestyle than the one in which I had been raised, my excitement for the Chanukah holiday had refocused on the act of lighting candles, rather than the gifts (not that I didn’t appreciate them as a teen as well).

In my early twenties, I began to take a deeper interest in Jewish life and Jewish law. I spent a year in Israel studying Judaism in depth. The more I have studied, the fewer halachic (Jewish legal) connections I have found for the giving of gifts, while, at the same time, the more I have noticed what an important role they play in modern Jewish life.

My friend felt that this tradition of giving gifts was a reflection of Christmas and Jewish assimilation. Sadly, this is probably true in many North American homes. It’s even true that when I was a kid, I felt that there was a competition–and often that I had the better end of the deal.

On the other hand, one can, and many have, traced the root of gift-giving back to a custom of Chanukah gelt. Gelt itself is a Yiddish word that might lead one to perceive an Eastern European origin to this tradition.

It is a tradition, however, that has its roots in two Talmudic discussions: One stating that lighting the Chanukah menorah is so important that one who cannot afford oil (or candles) should beg in order to purchase oil, and the second, expressing a correlation between lighting the Chanukah menorah and having intelligent children. From these two concepts, the custom developed to reward children for their studies with a little bit of money. This is Gelt. In time, a penny turned into a small token, which, probably in competition with Christmas, became a bundle of presents.

Let’s face it, most American Jews can recall being asked at least once if they really receive a present on each night of Chanukah. Indeed, most of us can also recall being asked whether Chanukah is “the Jewish Christmas.” This second question is quite ironic, given that the holiday of Chanukah is actually a celebration of a victorious battle against assimilation. At the time of the Maccabees, many Jews found it more comfortable to Hellenize their lives rather than fight to maintain a traditional Jewish lifestyle.

When I was a child, I rarely associated Chanukah with Christmas. We had our holiday and they had theirs. But I can, of course, be honest enough to admit that if I had not received Chanukah presents, I probably would have been jealous of, and desirous for, Christmas.

As a small child, the presents were a major focus, but, because of that, I developed a love for this holiday. As I grew older, my brother and I received fewer presents, but that did not diminish my connection to the holiday.

As a teenager, the societal pressure to celebrate Christmas bothered me tremendously. I was the outspoken choir member who insisted on adding Chanukah songs to the holiday concert and the high schooler who made certain a menorah was also part of the holiday display. My actions were driven by my Jewish pride, not by my desire to compare Chanukah to Christmas. I wanted the Jewish students who were less connected than I was to have a reason to be excited about their own heritage.

Listening to my friend’s dismay at the customs of her husband’s family, I felt, at first, embarrassed that this was the type of home in which I had been raised. The more I thought about it, however, the more I realized that because my parents had never mixed our Chanukah presents with even the slightest hint of that other holiday--there was no Chanukah bush or tinselly decorations--the gifts had been just one more aspect in developing my proud Jewish identity.

As a parent living a traditional Jewish lifestyle, I have not cast away this seeming remnant of assimilation. Instead, my husband and I have incorporated the important Chanukah lesson of Chinuch (education, a word that shares the same Hebrew root as Chanukah). On the nights when our children receive Chanukah presents, each child must answer a question about either Chanukah or the weekly Torah portion. Likewise, when there are gifts to be exchanged between my husband and myself (or the kids and one of us), we must also answer a question.

The other night, I did not say any of this to my friend. I smiled and listened and gave sympathetic answers of tacit agreement. Perhaps I should have said that the end result of the Chanukah presents my parents gave me was the greatest gift of all--my strong sense of my Jewish self.

In Their Way

A few days ago, my daughter asked me what would happen if a person ate non-kosher food. When I explained to her that nothing physically happens - that one’s tongue does not, as she had thought, become covered in pimples - but that keeping kosher was part of maintaining one’s connection with the spiritual realm. Finding the right answer for this child was just one of the many times that I have had to consider how to raise my children with happy, healthy and strong Jewish identities? It’s a question Jewish parents face in every generation, but more so in an era where the general culture views religious identity as an interesting adornment.

When one looks through the many narratives, commandments and advice that are in both the written and the oral Torah, perhaps the most important statement for today’s Jewish generation is “Educate the youth according to his way” (Proverbs 22:6).

It seems common sense to state that every child is unique, but in the real world of parenting, it is one of the most challenging realities to put into practice. I have four children, and even the children who seem most alike are actually strikingly different in what they need from me. Even without addressing the question of the differences in siblings, there is need to recognize how our children are different from ourselves as well.

Without question, this is an incredible challenge. In fact, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (Germany 1808-1888) references this concept when he asks a simple but difficult question.
How is it possible that a child of Isaac and Rebecca came to be wicked? The clue, Rabbi Hirsch suggests, is in Genesis 25:27, which says that the brothers Esau and Jacob grew up, and only then it indicates that Esau was a hunter while Jacob dwelt in the tent (of study [according to a rabbinic
story]). It is clear, according to Hirsch, based on this verse, that both Esau and Jacob, twins, were
raised in precisely the same environment and with the same methodology.

Rebecca and Isaac did not, however, take into account that Esau possessed a different personality from Jacob and needed his own special environment in order to be raised to become a righteous human being. Esau rebelled against this upbringing, which did not suit his personality and temperament.

Obviously most parents aren’t facing such diametrically opposed personalities as Jacob and Esau, but sometimes it is the subtle differences that need to be noticed in order for a child to feel truly secure.
Some children need and want strict rules to help them feel safe and secure, to mark out the boundaries. Other children, however, need softer discipline -- to have things discussed with them as they make their way through the world. Knowing the needs of each child not only effects how we interact with that child, but the choices we help that child to make. Pushing a child who is not into sports to join the soccer league, little league and to take karate can be detrimental to a child’s self-esteem if he/she never sees himself/herself succeeding at that activity.

One of the critical factors in getting to know one’s child at this deeper level is regular family time. For my family, this happens at the Shabbat table. Although we eat together every night, at Shabbat dinner my husband and I have the luxury of focussing on each child. Additionally, we make certain that we not only ask them questions, but we also share details of their own activities as well.

I felt pretty confident about the answer I gave that child, but if the question had been asked by my younger daughter, a metaphysical response would have been far less appropriate.  This was one question, casually asked as we passed a Burger King, but the greater question of raising a Jewish child is ever present.In the end, perhaps the key to raising children with happy, healthy and strong Jewish identities, is discerning what each child connects to in Jewish life. A musical child might connect to the many genres of Jewish music, whereas an intellectual child might enjoy delving into advanced Jewish studies.

Rejoicing on Sukkot: Then and Now

Originally published on Huffington Post

Rabbi Nachman of Breslov (1772-1810) declared: Mitzvah gedolah lee'yoht b'simcha tamid -- "To always be happy is a great mitzvah." The commandment to be happy is not included among the positive commandments of the Torah except during the holiday of Sukkot.

The Feast of the Tabernacles, as Sukkot is called in English, is a seven-day holiday in which the Jewish people are commanded to live in temporary dwellings with thatch-like roofs and wave four species. One might ask why the command to be happy is associated with Sukkot rather than Passover, when Jews celebrate being redeemed from slavery in Egypt, or Shavuot, when Jews celebrate receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai.

The holiday of Sukkot is celebrated at the time of the harvest, when farmers bring in the fruits of their labor, and everyone prepares for the onset of winter. This, too, serves as a spur for people to be thankful that the ground brings forth such delights and that trees bear such bountiful fruit. There is no question that, as a result of witnessing the miracle of growth in the field, people are moved to be thankful to the Creator of all things.

But what of the years when the harvest is not good? If Sukkot were purely an agricultural holiday, it would be cruel to command the farmers to rejoice on years that the crops failed. In fact, many commentators have associated the directive to live in the sukkah as a reminder to humankind that the success of their own handiwork is, and always will be, dependent upon Divine will.

Sukkot is celebrated on the 15th of Tishrei, less than one week after Yom Kippur and two weeks after Rosh Hashana. During the High Holidays, every man and woman approaches the Divine throne to beseech God to be forgiven for the sins they may have committed and to be cleansed of their misdeeds. At the end of Yom Kippur, it is assumed that the prayers for atonement have been accepted and that we enter the new year with a clean slate. Sukkot is known as Z'man Sim'chah'tay'nu -- the time of our rejoicing -- because the Jewish people are especially joyful knowing that the world has just been judged and, please God, their prayers for atonement have been accepted.
 Although the mitzvah to rejoice in one's feast is emphasized on the holiday of Sukkot, it is a mitzvah that applies to all the Jewish "feast" days. As with all of the mitzvot, the details of the mitzvah are elaborated on in the Talmud:

Our Rabbis taught: A man is duty-bound to make his children and his household rejoice on a festival, for it is said, 'And you shall rejoice on your feast, [you and your son, and your daughter, etc.]' With what does he make them rejoice? With wine. Rabbi Judah said: Men with what is suitable for them, and women with, what is suitable for them. 'Men with what is suitable for them' -- with wine. And women with what? Rabbi Joseph recited: in Babylonia, with colored garments; in the Land of Israel, with ironed lined garments (Pesachim 109a).

According to Jewish tradition, the key to a man's heart really is through his stomach! More specifically, through meat and wine. For women, it seems that "retail therapy" is not as new a concept as one might think.

In the days of the sages, and, in truth, for much of history, both a fine cut of meat and a new dress were luxury items. Today, although many of us still enjoy an attractive gift or a juicy steak, it is harder to connect these items to rejoicing. So how can one rejoice on the holidays in the 21st century?

The presence of meat at an ancient meal represented a vast upgrade in menu. Whether one is able to fulfill the mitzvah of eating in the sukkah or not, one can, nevertheless, enhance the festival week by setting the table with attractive china (or nice dishware) and serving a favored delicacy.

The gift of a new garment (whether given or purchased for oneself) represents another means of setting the festival days apart. It is commonly understood that the way one dresses influences the way one feels and acts. Wearing something new, or something which is usually reserved for special occasions, during the days of the festival is one more way of elevating the holiday and of keeping oneself in a festive spirit.

Wine represents our ability to take the mundane and elevate it to the holy. This is an opportunity that we have every day of our lives, but all the more so on the Jewish festivals when we use wine to sanctify the day.

This article is an excerpt from Jewish Treats Complete Guide to Celebrating Sukkot, a free copy of which may be download by clicking here.

Please join us throughout the Jewish High Holidays, on the HuffPost Religion live-blog, updated daily with spiritual reflections, blogs, photos, videos and verses. Tell us your story.

Nailbiting and Song - A Strange Combination

This Dvar Torah was written as part of a group that says Tehillim/Psalms together during the month of Elul (through Yom Kippur).

I too would like to thank Caryn and Ruthie for starting this inspiring group. I printed a great number of the divrei Torah on erev Rosh Hashana, and they were incredibly inspiring.

Each year, when I receive the initial email from Caryn and Ruthie, I hem and I haw. I have never been good at daily activities (even now, with 3 kids on anti-biotics for strep, I missed a dose!) This year, Ruthie did not let me hesitate. I had called her for an update on Elisheva Bracha Chaya and she left me no choice by immediately telling me she was signing me up and would give me “easy tehillim.” For this I thank her because it truly did make it easier for me.

As many of you know, I spend my days writing about a wide variety of Jewish topics, which actually sometimes makes it more challenging to feel as if I am writing something new and inspiring. In the past years I have often found myself using this dvar Torah as a cathartic opportunity to both write on a personal level and to open my heart and admit my great challenges.  This year has not been without its challenges, and sadly many of them are the exact same challenges I have faced in the years past - too much anger, not enough patience, too much working, too much judging others.

This Shabbas was Shabbas Shuva (yes, I am writing this motzei Shabbas...don’t ask!). This year, instead of trying to “connect” to the “feelings” I think that I am supposed to be feeling, I have found myself approaching the aseret y’mei teshuva in a more practical manner. For Shabbas Shuva it was actually a very, very practical manner. I bought “bitter nail” and put it on my nails and that of my two oldest children who are nail biters. I did NOT bite my nails all Shabbas. (For those of you who don’t know people with this bad habit, let me tell you that it is incredibly difficult to break.) Conscious of the nail biting because of the “bitter nail,” I found myself more conscious of Shabbas in general.

Perhaps this can be a beautiful analogy to all averos. My son told me he doesn’t bite any more. I held out his hand to show him the nails and said...”Yes, you do, you just don’t even realize when you are putting your fingers to your mouth. You do it without noticing.”

How often do we speak loshon harah without realizing it? Ok, butloshen harah is the easy analogy. Let’s be honest, it’s the most frequent trangression people make and, perhaps, the most discussed (except maybe tznius). But look further. How often do we take a bite of something and forget to make a bracha, eat something and never get around to saying the after-bracha, or steal someone else’s time (or even ideas) without considering our actions?

Alas, God has not provided a “bitter nail” for our daily lives because then we would not have free will. (But it would be so much easier!)

When I sat down to write, however, this is not where I expected to go. (Nor can I neatly tie these two sections together...sorry.)

As Shabbas went out, I glanced back at the parasha and had an all together different line of thought. What jumped out at me from this weeks parasha, and connected to next weeks parasha (which is appropriate on Motze Shabbat) was the concept of song.

As I alluded to above, and as those of you who know me will recognize, “spiritual” is not a description I use of myself. I don’t easily connect to the emotional side of Judaism. I don’t get goosebumps at the kosel or lose myself in prayer. (I truly wish that I did.)

When I do wish to daven for something particular, I always feel self-conscious and at a strange loss for word. (Odd for a writer, don’t you think.) A few months ago, feeling challenged by this fact, I decided that when I did wish to turn to personal tefilla, the best means for me to do so would be through song. One of the most moving prayers I ever felt myself pray was when I was in Israel in 1994 and the soldier Nachson Wachsman had been kidnapped by Arabs. That Shabbas, walking to shul at Hebrew U., I sang out to Hashem the refrain from “Bring Him Home” (Les Miserables).

Since making the decision to sing my prayers, I have actually done so on a number of occasions. (I would add here that, perhaps for the first time, I have felt truly moved by reciting Tehillim over the last few weeks when saying them for Elisheva Bracha Chaya...which has also helped me connect to reciting the Tehillim for this group.)

In Parasha Vayelch, it is written “And Moshe wrote this song on that day.” The song, written out in next week’s parash Haazinu, opens with praise of Hashem and a reminder that Hashem is our Creator and the rock of our lives. Moshe sang of all the kindness that Hashem did for our people. But then his song describes the transgressions that overcome our people and God’s wrathful response. From wrath, however, Moshe sang of hope and love and our ultimate redemption.”

Moshe song was both a lesson for the Jewish people, one that is relevant to every generation, and a prayer stated in narrative. Our job is to listen to this prayer and respond by recognizing Hashem’s greatness and following in his ways.

In just a few days it will be Yom Kippur. As we head into this holiest of days, I wonder how I will achieve what I wish to achieve. My greatest height of “spiritual connection” on Yom Kippur was attained through the rigor of standing in shul an entire day. It has been 8 years since I have been able to go to shul on Yom Kippur (Barch Hashem) and, in truth, I no longer even feel that I could concentrate if someone volunteered to take my children all day.

Perhaps, however, I will remember this d’var Torah, my promise to sing and God will accept my heartfelt desire to truly grow in the year to come.

In addition to Caryn, Ruthie and the entire Elul women’s group, I would like to thank my husband for putting the kids to bed and cleaning up while I composed this dvar Torah.

In the merit of the women of this Elul group, I will be giving Tzedakah to Midreshet Rachel v’Chaya.

I wish you all a successful Yom Kippur.

(Oh and don’t’ forget that Montreal is a great place to visit!!!!!)

Can You Forgive? Can You Be Forgiven?

Originally published on Huffington Post.

 

Asking for forgiveness is an admittedly difficult task. After all, no one likes to admit to their own faults or shortcomings. However, asking for forgiveness is an essential aspect of teshuva, repentance.

Teshuva is actually a process of self-evaluation and self-improvement. The Rambam (Rabbi Moses ben Maimon, a 12th century sage and commentator) enumerated four primary steps to the teshuva process:

1. Recognize and discontinue the improper action.


2. Verbally confess the action, thus giving the action a concrete form in your own mind.


3. Regret the action. Evaluate the negative impact this action may have had on yourself or on others.


4. Determine never to repeat the action. Picture a better way to handle it.

When one has caused harm to others, whether by stealing from them, embarrassing them or anything else, then teshuva also requires that restitution and reconciliation be arranged between the parties involved. The damaged party must forgive the perpetrator before Divine forgiveness is granted.

There are, however, certain tricky situations that must be handled delicately. An ancient Jewish proverb declares: "Loose tongues are worse than wicked hands." Truth is, people do the most damage to each other with their mouths. Things done with our hands, such as injuries, thefts, etc., can be repaired. Words, however, are like feathers in the wind -- they fly too fast to catch and can never be taken back. Jewish law regards lashon harah -- wicked speech, such as gossip and slander -- as one of the worst of the transgressions that one commits against fellow humans.

Here is the dilemma: Teshuva for hurting another person requires that one personally ask the other person's forgiveness. What does one do if one spoke badly about someone, in a fit of anger? Now that the two are friends once again, how does one ask properly for forgiveness?

The answer to this dilemma depends on the extent of the "damage." If the gossip itself created negative consequences, then the person must be asked directly for forgiveness. Even if no harm was done, and it is known that the person will be understanding about the incident, then forgiveness should still be asked.

However, according to the opinion of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, if informing a person that you spoke about them would result in embarrassment or hurt, it is acceptable to ask for general forgiveness, without going into detail. Indeed, causing additional embarrassment to the person might actually necessitate asking for mechila (forgiveness) once again.

As central as expressing regret and apologizing for hurting another person is to the process of teshuva, equally important is the ability to hear someone else's apology and to accept it. (Of course, the ideal situation is when one foregoes an apology altogether and simply forgives the person for hurting you.)

Jewish tradition teaches that one is only obligated to ask for forgiveness three times. After three refusals, the person is no longer held accountable for their misconduct, as he/she has demonstrated true regret. The one who will not accept a sincere apology after three requests for forgiveness is now guilty of bearing a grudge.

What is wrong with bearing a grudge against a person who really hurt you? Beyond the fact that it is a violation of a Torah prohibition (Leviticus 19:18), bearing a grudge affects the bearer psychologically. A person bearing a grudge is, in general, less happy with the world and with other people because he/she cannot get past the feeling that he/she was wronged.

Forgiveness is rather easy to bestow. And when it is done with sincerity, it is as much a gift to ourselves as it is to the person we forgive.

Please join us throughout the Jewish High Holidays, on the HuffPost Religion live-blog, updated daily with spiritual reflections, blogs, photos, videos and verses. Tell us your story.

Jewish Wisdom for Worker's Rights

Originally published on Huffington Post.

Are workers' rights a modern invention born out of the trials and tribulations of the industrial revolution? Everyone's heard of the horrors of the sweatshops, child labor abuses and other workplace issues that, sadly, sometimes still take place today.

It should be known, however, that workers' rights were a concern long before sweatshops, and that workers' rights were addressed in many different ways by the Torah. One can imagine the early labor activists, creating a placard of Deuteronomy 24:14: "You shall not oppress a hired servant that is poor and needy, whether he be of your people, or of the strangers that are in your land within your gates." Not only does Deuteronomy 24 prohibit an employer from mistreating an employee either through physical or verbal abuse, but it is also understood to mean that an employer may not force a servant to do work that is demeaning.

In fact, the sages of the Talmud appear to have been in favor of employers going above and beyond to ensure that workers were treated fairly. For example, in Baba Metzia 83a, it is recorded that Rabba the son of Rabbi Huna confiscated the garments of some porters who had broken a barrel of wine he had hired them to transport. When the workers complained, Rav ordered Rabba to return the garments. When Rabba inquired if that was the law, Rav replied by quoting Psalms 2:20: 'That you may walk in the way of good men.' When their garments were returned, the men inquired whether they should not also receive their pay, for although the barrel had broken, they had labored all day. Rav ruled again in favor of the workers, noting that the aforementioned verse concluded "and keep the path of the righteous."

The tone of the Talmud indicates that while Rabba did not have an obligation to pay these workers, for they had been negligent in their task, it was, nevertheless, the right thing to do.

Another classic example of workers' rights in the Torah is with regard to the payment of wages. First mentioned in Leviticus 19:13, the Torah states: "...the wages of a hired servant shall not abide with you all night until the morning." When a person hires a day laborer, the worker must be paid, without delay, before the beginning of the next day.

While this seems obvious -- a man is hired to build a shed, he finishes the job and you pay him -- there are many cases and situations in which a person might not be so careful. What about the teenage babysitter for whom you have forgotten to have cash on hand? It's happened to all of us. This rule also applies to artisans: A customer is responsible for paying a worker upon receipt of the work he/she was to have done (for instance when a tailor delivers a new suit).

Often, a casual employer doesn't realize how much a delayed payment can affect an employee. Perhaps the employee has debts that are due or a babysitter that must be paid. Perhaps it is simply that the employee had intended to use the money to make a particular purchase that evening.

The Torah's views on workers' rights serve to remind us of the compassion one must always
feel for human beings.

This essay first appeared in an abbreviated form on JewishTreats.org.

For Jews, It's Always Back to School

Originally published on Huffington Post.

September looms, and children all over have either just begun school or will be starting shortly. Judaism has always been a culture focussed on learning. The Torah commands parents to teach their children, but since many parents are not capable of fulfilling the role of teacher, schools have become a necessity.

Local schools are important. The Sages even discuss whether a child may be forced by circumstances to go from one town to another to receive a proper education: "Joshua ben Gamala came and ordained that teachers of young children should be appointed in each district and each town (Baba Batra 21a)." Thus was established in the first century C.E., the first edict requiring available education for any child over 5 years of age.

While kindergarten, is, technically, the beginning of "school" in western society. It is, however, viewed by most educators as a transition year, which supports the Talmudic dictum "that children should enter school at the age of six or seven. Rav said to Rabbi Samuel ben Shilath: 'Before the age of six do not accept pupils; from that age you can accept them and stuff them with Torah like an ox (Baba Batra 21a).'" In Western society, children are generally 6 years old when they begin first grade.

Sending a child to school does not absolve a parent of responsibility to ensure that the child is being educated. The important role of a parent in education is reflected in Kiddushin 30a, where the Talmud described how Rabbi Chiya ben Abba did not taste meat [eat breakfast] before revising [the previous day's lesson] with the child and adding [another verse]." He enacted this family policy after confronting Rabbi Joshua ben Levi about wearing a plain cloth upon his head (in other words, not being properly dressed) when taking his child to synagogue for his lessons. Rabbi Joshua explained that his haste was to fulfill the Torah commandment: "and you shall make them known to your sons and your sons' sons" (Deuteronomy 4:9). It is similarly noted on this same page of the Talmud that "Rabbah son of Rabbi Huna did not taste meat [eat breakfast] until he took the child to school" (Kiddushin 30a).

The actions of Rabbi Joshua, Rabbi Chiya and Rabbah are cited because they reflect a fact that has been important throughout the history of education, one that is agreed upon by educators around the world: few factors are as important in education as parental participation.

Because of the focus Judaism places on learning, it is not surprising that the Sages had many other thoughts on education, such as:

The Sages' opinions even reflect the modern discussion regarding homogenous or heterogenous classes: "The attentive one will read, and, if one is inattentive, put him next to a diligent one" (Baba Batra 21a).

Class size, no matter where or what century, has always been a contentious issue: "Raba further said: The number of pupils to be assigned to each teacher is 25. If there are 50, we appoint two teachers. If there are 40, we appoint an assistant, at the expense of the town" (Baba Batra 21a).

Rabbi Eliezer, one of the great sages of the Talmud, believed that a teacher is obligated to teach a student the same lesson four times. Rabbi Akiva, on the other hand, insisted that a teacher must teach the same material to a student many times until the student masters the material! (Eruvin 54b). Whether education is oral, as in the past, or written, as in the present, there is a great lesson to be learned. Each student must be taught according to his/her ability and needs. Some students pick up information as soon as it is taught, but others need it repeated, two, four, 10 or even 100 times. And that's OK too.

Education is not, of course, limited to children. As Rosh Hashana approaches along with the new school year, there are plenty of educational opportunities. Fora light fare of Jewish education daily, please visit
JewishTreats.org.

Remembering a Great Warrior on Shavuot

Originally published on Huffington Post.

Although there are many grumbles about the barbeques and sales, Memorial Day is still dedicated to honoring the memories of those soldiers lost in battle. But this year, Memorial Day poses an interesting conflict with the Jewish calendar as it overlaps directly with the holiday of Shavuot.

The Feast of Weeks, as Shavuot is sometimes translated, is a festival of equal caliber to both Passover and Sukkot. Whereas Passover has matzah and the seder and Sukkot has the four species and the temporary dwellings, Shavuot does not have any specific rituals that would make it well-known to those who did not observe it. Celebrated following a count of 49 days after the first day of Passover, Shavuot commemorates the experience at Mount Sinai, when the Israelites received the Torah.

The coincidence of Shavuot and Memorial Day is not without some significance. In addition to commemorating the giving of the Torah, Shavuot is also the anniversary of both the birth and the death of King David, who is known for his prowess as a warrior.

The young David's introduction to the world of warfare was unintentional. During the reign of King Saul, the Israelites were at war with the Philistines (as was frequent during this era of Jewish history). The two armies had withdrawn from battle after the dramatic announcement by Goliath of Gath, a giant who had yet to be defeated in battle, that he would fight an Israelite champion, and "If he is able to fight with me [Goliath], and to kill me, then we will be your servants: but if I prevail against him, and kill him, then you shall be our servants, and serve us" (I Samuel 17:9).

Into this tense situation came David, a youth following his father's instructions to bring provisions to his three oldest brothers who were serving at the front. When David heard why the soldiers were sitting in their camps, he went to King Saul and volunteered to battle Goliath. Although at first the king refused, citing David's youth, he relented when David argued that he had successfully protected his father's flocks from wolves and lions and that he certainly could protect God's people with Divine assistance. David used his slingshot and surprised Goliath with a rock to the head, bringing victory to the Israelites.

With Goliath dead, a full fledged battle renewed, and young David was in the heart of it. This was the start of David's glorious military career. After the Israelite victory, the women of the nation sang, "Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands" (I Samuel18:7).

As king, David was one of the most successful military leaders in the history of Israel. According to the Midrash (Leviticus Rabbah 1:4), "[Some] say David waged 13 wars; [others] say 18. They do not disagree. Five were for his own needs, 13 were for Israel."

According to Jewish tradition, what made King David such an excellent military leader was the same quality for which he is considered the ideal King of Israel: his complete faith in God. In fact, the Midrash even credits his military skill as a result of his faith: "David said (Psalms 18:38), 'Let me pursue my foes and overtake them.' The Holy One, Blessed is He, replied 'I shall do so.' Thus it is written (I Samuel 30:17), 'David smote them from twilight until the evening of the next day'" (Pesikta Eichah Rabbasi 30).

It is more than a coincidence that King David's birthday/yahrtzeit is on Shavuot. For as much as he was a general and a politician, a husband and a father, a shepherd and a poet, King David was devoted to the Torah. In fact, he is attributed with creating the Book of Psalms, many of which he himself wrote. The Talmud relates that King David, knowing he was destined to die on Shabbat, begged God to let him die on the eve of the Sabbath (so that his body would not have to wait for burial). God replied by telling him that one day of David sitting and studying Torah was better to Him than the thousands of sacrifices that his son Solomon would (in the future) bring to the Temple, therefore God would not allow him to die even one day early. From that point forward, King David spent every Shabbat immersed in study, since the angel of death cannot approach one who is studying Torah. On his 70th birthday, which was on Shabbat, he paused from his studying to investigate a disturbance in his garden. When he climbed a ladder for a closer look, the ladder broke and "thereupon he became silent [from his studies] and his soul rested" (Shabbat 30a-b).

It's hard for us, today, to relate to biblical figures like King David. But as we face the upcoming weekend that is both Shavuot and Memorial Day Weekend, perhaps we can take the time to inspire ourselves and honor this great warrior in Jewish history by delving into the texts of the Torah that continually inspired him.

For those looking for some extra inspiration, an excellent first resource is the 'Jewish Treats: The Ten Commandments' ebook.

For more on the 49 days of counting between Passover and Shavuot, join the conversation and community by visiting the liveblog on HuffPost Religion, which features blogs, prayers, art and reflections for all 49 days of spiritual renewal between Passover and Shavuot.