I've been really busy with writing, even making some money. It's like I could say I have a job almost, but not really as I get paid less than if I were working minimum wage, and I put a lot more into it. However, I think that's part of the whole writing shtick, and I'm working on some projects to make it a little more profitable. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll be able to make my monthly loan repayments.
Anyway, one of my articles on New Voices has been quite a success, over 600 views in one day, over 100 likes. It definitely feels good to suddenly be heard, I only hope that some of those people who enjoyed it will then go and check out my dvars. The link to the article is here: David's Kiruv Guide
I've also missed posting two of my New Voices dvars here. The two are very connected, isn't it all, and I think it would be wise to try and read both together if you have the patience. With Parshat Yitro, I discuss how revelation requires receptiveness from both the community and each individual. Last week, with Parshat Mishpatim, I took the community idea a step further, discussing a community's need for moral values. If you have the chance, please feel free to check all three of my articles out.
Also, if you'd like to see the other work that I am doing, I am currently working for TopSeventh, where I am writing mainly silly fun articles on a wide range of topics. A lot of them can be fun to read, but none are really that serious. It's a great experience for me, and I would recommend you check out any of my articles there, especially the one about Jean-Claude Van Damme.
Monday, January 27, 2014
Monday, January 13, 2014
Judaism and Beards
Warning: This post is a little ridiculous, but this alongside an analysis of Nietzsche's Genealogy of Morality are what I have rattling in my head. This one is a lot easier to write.
I'm obsessed with my beard. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm super proud of it, and they are aware that I have a strong belief that all men should wear a beard. I first grew my beard in 2006, when I walked out and quit my first job at Chick-fil-a. It was company policy, or health code policy, that employees weren't allowed to have facial hair, so as part of my rebellion on top of just walking out I also decided I'd grow my beard. Yesterday, I was looking at facebook pictures of me spending time with that first beard so many years ago, after which I went to check my current beard out in the mirror. This beard checking out thing is really a habit of mine, in most ways I'm not a narcissist, but I love my beard.
I'm going to get a little out there now, but I've noticed a recent change in my beard. Since I've been embracing traditional Jewish practices, my beard feels as if it's grown thicker and more awesome. Yes, I'm not shaving with a blade anymore, but I barely shaved ever anyway. I honestly think that somehow by my becoming more observant, my beard is becoming more.. epic. It's as if my face knows that I can't be a talmid hacham without a good face full of hair on you.
So, a quick discussion on beards and Judaism for all of you that are going, "What do beards have to do with Judaism and this blog." I spent a week in Lakewood, and while not every Orthodox person there, or even every Rabbi, had a beard I noticed that all the big guys, the gedolim who came to speak to us, they all had some very nice beards. One of my fellow fellows there actually asked one Rabbi Uren Reich how long he's been growing his beard. A highly inappropriate question to ask a man of his wisdom, but his answer was 35 years in case you were wondering. Anyway, beards are a thing in Judaism, but really I think its more of a thing of Jewish culture. Yes, in the old days there was a rule of "no putting a knife to your face", so awhile back you couldn't actually shave, but with modern technology around there are kosher razors that don't actually physically cut against your skin. I don't know the science. So, while there is a rule about no shaving, the rule is bypassed.
Then why have a beard? I think part of it's cultural because of the whole no shaving thing. For years, we had to have beards, and so saying "Jews have beards" was a perfectly valid statement. Now even though we can shave, "Jews have beards", and so I have a beard too. I also once attended a Movember panel where we learned about Judaism and beards, and one of my teachers who happened to have a beard I'm very jealous of, said "All the great rabbis had beards, so if I want to be a great rabbi I might as well have one too".
I'm obsessed with my beard. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm super proud of it, and they are aware that I have a strong belief that all men should wear a beard. I first grew my beard in 2006, when I walked out and quit my first job at Chick-fil-a. It was company policy, or health code policy, that employees weren't allowed to have facial hair, so as part of my rebellion on top of just walking out I also decided I'd grow my beard. Yesterday, I was looking at facebook pictures of me spending time with that first beard so many years ago, after which I went to check my current beard out in the mirror. This beard checking out thing is really a habit of mine, in most ways I'm not a narcissist, but I love my beard.
I'm going to get a little out there now, but I've noticed a recent change in my beard. Since I've been embracing traditional Jewish practices, my beard feels as if it's grown thicker and more awesome. Yes, I'm not shaving with a blade anymore, but I barely shaved ever anyway. I honestly think that somehow by my becoming more observant, my beard is becoming more.. epic. It's as if my face knows that I can't be a talmid hacham without a good face full of hair on you.
So, a quick discussion on beards and Judaism for all of you that are going, "What do beards have to do with Judaism and this blog." I spent a week in Lakewood, and while not every Orthodox person there, or even every Rabbi, had a beard I noticed that all the big guys, the gedolim who came to speak to us, they all had some very nice beards. One of my fellow fellows there actually asked one Rabbi Uren Reich how long he's been growing his beard. A highly inappropriate question to ask a man of his wisdom, but his answer was 35 years in case you were wondering. Anyway, beards are a thing in Judaism, but really I think its more of a thing of Jewish culture. Yes, in the old days there was a rule of "no putting a knife to your face", so awhile back you couldn't actually shave, but with modern technology around there are kosher razors that don't actually physically cut against your skin. I don't know the science. So, while there is a rule about no shaving, the rule is bypassed.
Then why have a beard? I think part of it's cultural because of the whole no shaving thing. For years, we had to have beards, and so saying "Jews have beards" was a perfectly valid statement. Now even though we can shave, "Jews have beards", and so I have a beard too. I also once attended a Movember panel where we learned about Judaism and beards, and one of my teachers who happened to have a beard I'm very jealous of, said "All the great rabbis had beards, so if I want to be a great rabbi I might as well have one too".
Friday, January 10, 2014
Beshalach: God Separates and Sends Us Out of the Darkness
This week's d'var is up on New Voices. Last week's d'var on Bo was by far my most popular, and definitely on my top 3 list of my d'vars so far. I'm not so sure about this one, as it's very much along the lines of the "motivational" d'vars that I keep writing. What I really like are the ones with deep spiritual meanings that really interpret the text, like last week's and my d'vars on Bereishit and Noah which can be found here.
Unfortunately, I didn't really have the time to put into this week's dvar. I've been extremely busy this week writing up a storm. First, I signed up for a website called Freelancer. I've been getting these pretty big assignments that pay terribly there, but I'm getting experience and I need the money. Then, I volunteered to write a post for the Pardes blog. I'm a huge fan of bonsai, which you'll see when you read it. On top of it all, I'm working on applying to JTS for Rabbinical School, not something I was expecting to do this year, so I'm also busy writing my admissions essays. Maybe after the whole admissions process I'll post modified versions of those essays up here for you to see. I'm pretty much writing non-stop, and I enjoy most of it except maybe the freelancer stuff.
Anyway, when I started writing this week's d'var I started on the topic of the separation between the Jewish people and other nations. I think it's an interesting topic, and the interpretation that I had was probably going to be a pretty new one. However, as I was writing it I realized it might be a little too controversial for New Voices. I wasn't saying anything along the lines of "Jews are the best", but I could see it as being very easily construed that way. If I watered it down, it became wishy-washy and not valuable. So I scrapped the idea for now and went with what you'll read.
So go read it:
http://newvoices.org/2014/01/10/splitting-the-sea-and-other-personal-miracles/
Unfortunately, I didn't really have the time to put into this week's dvar. I've been extremely busy this week writing up a storm. First, I signed up for a website called Freelancer. I've been getting these pretty big assignments that pay terribly there, but I'm getting experience and I need the money. Then, I volunteered to write a post for the Pardes blog. I'm a huge fan of bonsai, which you'll see when you read it. On top of it all, I'm working on applying to JTS for Rabbinical School, not something I was expecting to do this year, so I'm also busy writing my admissions essays. Maybe after the whole admissions process I'll post modified versions of those essays up here for you to see. I'm pretty much writing non-stop, and I enjoy most of it except maybe the freelancer stuff.
Anyway, when I started writing this week's d'var I started on the topic of the separation between the Jewish people and other nations. I think it's an interesting topic, and the interpretation that I had was probably going to be a pretty new one. However, as I was writing it I realized it might be a little too controversial for New Voices. I wasn't saying anything along the lines of "Jews are the best", but I could see it as being very easily construed that way. If I watered it down, it became wishy-washy and not valuable. So I scrapped the idea for now and went with what you'll read.
So go read it:
http://newvoices.org/2014/01/10/splitting-the-sea-and-other-personal-miracles/
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Tefillin Vs. Tzitzit
While reading the morning Sh'ma this Shabbat I became distinctly aware that I was not wearing my tefillin because it was Shabbat. It's not something I ever questioned, I always just assumed that it was because there might be a threat of a malacha. I just looked it up, and according to Chabad that isn't at all why we don't wrap tefillin on Shabbat. The reasoning they give is interesting because it isn't too off from what I was actually thinking during Shabbat.
When we wrap tefillin it's supposed to be a happy event so long as you're not cutting off circulation. We do it to remind ourselves to love and serve Hashem. It reminds us that it was Hashem that redeemed us from Egypt, and who rewards us (and punishes but we'll ignore that for the purpose of this post). We wear the tefillin on our head and our hand, pointing to our hearts, to unify our thoughts and actions with our desire to serve Hashem. I think on this as I wrap and as I read through the Sh'ma, on what an honor and a joy that Hashem has given us this Mitzvah. And, this all comes from a simplified view of the tefillin without looking at commentaries and other ideas. It's already almost overwhelmingly beautiful. So on Shabbat, that little taste of perfection, of a messianic time period while I was reading the Sh'ma I had to ask why I wasn't wearing my tefillin.
A light-bulb popped up right then. When I wear tefillin it's to remind of how wondrous Hashem is, and how magnificent Hashem has treated the Jewish people. On Shabbat, our minds are meant to be directed away from the mundane toward the holy, and so we don't need to be reminded because observing Shabbat is essentially having our entire selves being wrapped in a metaphysical tefillin. It's a beautiful concept, even if not completely true throughout Shabbat, and I think it goes along perfectly well with the Chabad interpretation I later found.
So, I was content, even excited, for about a paragraph after realizing this. Then... I found myself reading about tzitzit, and I was wearing mine. Why, if Shabbat is so holy that we are enveloped by our love with Hashem, do we then need to wear tzitzit. The answer is right there in the paragraph, tzitzit aren't there to bring up any emotions, except maybe guilt. We wear tzitzit not to remind ourselves to love Hashem, or vice-versa, we wear tzitzit to remind ourselves not to sin to not do bad things and to stay on the path. While we may think that being in a higher spiritual state on Shabbat would prevent us from being bad, we all know this isn't true. In order for us to enter that higher spiritual state of Shabbat, or on a grander scheme in the World to Come, we must buttress ourselves from falling to our desires. Hashem, or the Rabbis who decided no tefillin on Shabbat, are trying to actually teaching us something very important. Even when you think you're at your most holiest, even if your completely enveloped in Hashem's love, you can do wrong you can fall. We see this with the characters of the Torah, even King David, Hashem's anointed one, full of wisdom and piety fell victim to his desires.
I'm reminded of the Hassidic tale of the two pieces of paper, one that says "You are created from dust," and the other, "For your sake was the world created.". When you start to feel a little too proud, a little egotistical look down at those strings and remember, "Even I make mistakes", and when the opposite happens, when you feel hopelessness or worthless pick up those strings and think to yourself, "Even King David made mistakes.". We place tefillin on weekday morning to add holiness to our mundane daily lives and to give ourselves a fresh start each morning, and each day we wear the tzitzit to help keep us in balance with that holiness throughout the rest of the day.
When we wrap tefillin it's supposed to be a happy event so long as you're not cutting off circulation. We do it to remind ourselves to love and serve Hashem. It reminds us that it was Hashem that redeemed us from Egypt, and who rewards us (and punishes but we'll ignore that for the purpose of this post). We wear the tefillin on our head and our hand, pointing to our hearts, to unify our thoughts and actions with our desire to serve Hashem. I think on this as I wrap and as I read through the Sh'ma, on what an honor and a joy that Hashem has given us this Mitzvah. And, this all comes from a simplified view of the tefillin without looking at commentaries and other ideas. It's already almost overwhelmingly beautiful. So on Shabbat, that little taste of perfection, of a messianic time period while I was reading the Sh'ma I had to ask why I wasn't wearing my tefillin.
A light-bulb popped up right then. When I wear tefillin it's to remind of how wondrous Hashem is, and how magnificent Hashem has treated the Jewish people. On Shabbat, our minds are meant to be directed away from the mundane toward the holy, and so we don't need to be reminded because observing Shabbat is essentially having our entire selves being wrapped in a metaphysical tefillin. It's a beautiful concept, even if not completely true throughout Shabbat, and I think it goes along perfectly well with the Chabad interpretation I later found.
So, I was content, even excited, for about a paragraph after realizing this. Then... I found myself reading about tzitzit, and I was wearing mine. Why, if Shabbat is so holy that we are enveloped by our love with Hashem, do we then need to wear tzitzit. The answer is right there in the paragraph, tzitzit aren't there to bring up any emotions, except maybe guilt. We wear tzitzit not to remind ourselves to love Hashem, or vice-versa, we wear tzitzit to remind ourselves not to sin to not do bad things and to stay on the path. While we may think that being in a higher spiritual state on Shabbat would prevent us from being bad, we all know this isn't true. In order for us to enter that higher spiritual state of Shabbat, or on a grander scheme in the World to Come, we must buttress ourselves from falling to our desires. Hashem, or the Rabbis who decided no tefillin on Shabbat, are trying to actually teaching us something very important. Even when you think you're at your most holiest, even if your completely enveloped in Hashem's love, you can do wrong you can fall. We see this with the characters of the Torah, even King David, Hashem's anointed one, full of wisdom and piety fell victim to his desires.
I'm reminded of the Hassidic tale of the two pieces of paper, one that says "You are created from dust," and the other, "For your sake was the world created.". When you start to feel a little too proud, a little egotistical look down at those strings and remember, "Even I make mistakes", and when the opposite happens, when you feel hopelessness or worthless pick up those strings and think to yourself, "Even King David made mistakes.". We place tefillin on weekday morning to add holiness to our mundane daily lives and to give ourselves a fresh start each morning, and each day we wear the tzitzit to help keep us in balance with that holiness throughout the rest of the day.
Friday, January 3, 2014
Nefesh Kol Chai: Do Pets Have Souls?
I have a lot of pets, I've had a lot of pets. When giving my little 15 minutes to talk about myself at Pardes, I spent 10 minutes talking about all the pets I've had. I think its at 10 cats, 7 dogs, 2 toads, 2 gerbils, 1 guinea pig, and innumerable fish. I'm not one of those crazy cat people, I also live with humans. Maybe my mom is the crazy cat person. Anyway, when you grow up surrounded by pets, you can't help but develop a certain level of love for animals, and you also can't escape the inevitable passing away of those animals.
Two years ago, I crawled up to my room in the morning after a night out in Philly to discover my favorite cat, Dandelion, had died on my bed. I was quite devastated by it. Last weekend I came home from being away for a week to find out my favorite dog had been passed away earlier that day. Right now I'm still working on a theory that my favorite pets dies whenever my friend with the full sleeve tattoo of Noah's Ark visits from the navy... Not to be insensitive, but while it is definitely tough, you do sort of get used to the idea of pets passing on after you've had so many of them. We have a macabre little assembly of wooden boxes filled with animal ashes, and my family tends to fill the void with a new pet pretty quickly, like within a week or two. Anyway, something I need to ask myself every time one of them goes is whether or not pets have souls.
My answer doesn't particularly comfort me, as it's no they don't. It makes it a little worse, knowing that my little Dandy isn't going to be waiting for me up in some form of Jewish heaven, and that once they're gone they're gone. However, from what I've gleaned from the opening chapter of the Torah, humans and animals are different in that humans actually have this spiritual essence, an eternal soul. While animals have a nefesh (some sort of soul) it's no neshama (a different higher sort of soul). The way I was taught it is that a nefesh is really just willful movements, not something necessarily spiritual, and that's the way I've poskened for years. Doesn't mean I don't love my animals, or that I don't have a deep connection with some of them, but I do fully believe that humans are a higher life form.
I want to believe their nefesh is a little more than just the ability to decide whether they get up and go left or right, that animal souls have a basis in a higher realm and continue to exist after death, but I can't find any religious evidence for this, So I can't honestly believe this, and as per my earlier d'var on absolute good and truth, just because we want something to be true doesn't mean Hashem agrees. In this regards, I'm put in a situation where my beliefs and my desires are completely against one another, and belief wins out. Of course, I hope I'm wrong, which is part of why I'm writing this; I'm hoping someone can prove me wrong, but by doing so in a rational logical manner based on Torah not emotionally based off their desire to see animals as having a soul too.
Two years ago, I crawled up to my room in the morning after a night out in Philly to discover my favorite cat, Dandelion, had died on my bed. I was quite devastated by it. Last weekend I came home from being away for a week to find out my favorite dog had been passed away earlier that day. Right now I'm still working on a theory that my favorite pets dies whenever my friend with the full sleeve tattoo of Noah's Ark visits from the navy... Not to be insensitive, but while it is definitely tough, you do sort of get used to the idea of pets passing on after you've had so many of them. We have a macabre little assembly of wooden boxes filled with animal ashes, and my family tends to fill the void with a new pet pretty quickly, like within a week or two. Anyway, something I need to ask myself every time one of them goes is whether or not pets have souls.
My answer doesn't particularly comfort me, as it's no they don't. It makes it a little worse, knowing that my little Dandy isn't going to be waiting for me up in some form of Jewish heaven, and that once they're gone they're gone. However, from what I've gleaned from the opening chapter of the Torah, humans and animals are different in that humans actually have this spiritual essence, an eternal soul. While animals have a nefesh (some sort of soul) it's no neshama (a different higher sort of soul). The way I was taught it is that a nefesh is really just willful movements, not something necessarily spiritual, and that's the way I've poskened for years. Doesn't mean I don't love my animals, or that I don't have a deep connection with some of them, but I do fully believe that humans are a higher life form.
I want to believe their nefesh is a little more than just the ability to decide whether they get up and go left or right, that animal souls have a basis in a higher realm and continue to exist after death, but I can't find any religious evidence for this, So I can't honestly believe this, and as per my earlier d'var on absolute good and truth, just because we want something to be true doesn't mean Hashem agrees. In this regards, I'm put in a situation where my beliefs and my desires are completely against one another, and belief wins out. Of course, I hope I'm wrong, which is part of why I'm writing this; I'm hoping someone can prove me wrong, but by doing so in a rational logical manner based on Torah not emotionally based off their desire to see animals as having a soul too.
Blessed Bling
For those who read here, I missed last week because I was in Lakewood, holiest city in American Jewry, studying Torah. It was an awesome experience, one that I hope to discuss a bit more in an upcoming article on NewVoices.org. Since coming home from Lakewood I've found that I'm a bit... changed. I haven't turned on the TV once, and the only thing I've done with my computer is talk to people on Facebook and research Judaism. I've davenned three times a day every day this week, and spent a lot of time at my local Orthodox synagogue just reading Torah. They got me hooked on Jewish learning again.
I think this is great, and I'm hoping that my Jewish writing will be enriched by this. This week's d'var is, in my so humble opinion, is awesome, perhaps because of my time in Lakewood. Here it is, and I hope you enjoy it.
http://bit.ly/1f0NeLR
I think this is great, and I'm hoping that my Jewish writing will be enriched by this. This week's d'var is, in my so humble opinion, is awesome, perhaps because of my time in Lakewood. Here it is, and I hope you enjoy it.
http://bit.ly/1f0NeLR
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