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/
Dedicated to an in-depth reading of the Torah, this blog is a place for me to write about my thoughts on the text with the hope of gaining more insight personally, and sharing some of my ideas with others. Please enjoy, and do feel free to share your thoughts in the comments.
Friday, January 10, 2014
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
Friday, December 20, 2013
Exodus! Movement of a People, or just Moses.
Here's this week's d'var enjoy, and if you really enjoy it share it.
How to Start Your Own Personal Exodus
How to Start Your Own Personal Exodus
Friday, December 6, 2013
Teshuva: Remembering God's Love
These thoughts may be a few weeks late, but than again they do say the Gates of Repentance are never fully shut. Last night I was speaking with a friend about accepting people for who they are, and we got into the difficulty of accepting ourselves for who we are. My friend, I hope he'll forgive me for bringing up our discussion, mentioned how difficult it is for him during tefilla to move past the errors of his past. I've discussed this topic a bit with my d'var on Vayeshev, but I had a few interesting ideas last night that I'd like to expand upon.
My friend said at one point, "I know full well that I'll be spending the full year in Gehenna.". I was shocked when he said this. It reminded me of the story of a Rabbi who receives word from heaven that he has lost his place in the World to Come, and the Rabbi celebrates because now he can perform mitzvot with no ulterior motive. It's not the same, but confidence that your going to Gehenna to me sounds just as bad as confidence that you will be entering the World to Come.
What really bothered me about it, is that it shows an emphasis on the yirah shamaayim, fear of Heaven, versus ahavah, love. We all have those things we've done that seem to bog us down at times. Yom Kippur comes, we try to repent, and hopefully Hashem forgives. How often do we forgive ourselves though? Yom Kippur is only a day for a reason. Not because Hashem is only willing to hear our requests for forgiveness on this day, but because Hashem wants us to move past our mistakes rather than focus on them. It's like the mourning process, in which there is a specified amount of time in which you can mourn for a person, and than you're expected to move on with life. There is a specified time for you to repent for your mistakes, Yom Kippur, after which you need to then move on.
It's much easier said than done, moving past your mistakes, but that is why tefilla has a prayer for forgiveness. This prayer gives us the opportunity to take a minute three times a day to either remind ourselves that we need to move on, or for us to address new problems and fix them. It isn't meant to make us focus on our mistakes, pulling us down into a pit of despair. If anything it's meant as a release.
When we focus on our mistakes, believing that they are unforgivable, or that we will be punished for them, we underestimate Hashem's love. We doubt Hashem's ability to forgive, and we contribute to the myth of a cruel vindictive god. We need to have faith that Hashem loves us and knows what is best for us. The best way to do this is by doing what's best for ourselves, by forgiving ourselves and moving forward with our lives.
My friend said at one point, "I know full well that I'll be spending the full year in Gehenna.". I was shocked when he said this. It reminded me of the story of a Rabbi who receives word from heaven that he has lost his place in the World to Come, and the Rabbi celebrates because now he can perform mitzvot with no ulterior motive. It's not the same, but confidence that your going to Gehenna to me sounds just as bad as confidence that you will be entering the World to Come.
What really bothered me about it, is that it shows an emphasis on the yirah shamaayim, fear of Heaven, versus ahavah, love. We all have those things we've done that seem to bog us down at times. Yom Kippur comes, we try to repent, and hopefully Hashem forgives. How often do we forgive ourselves though? Yom Kippur is only a day for a reason. Not because Hashem is only willing to hear our requests for forgiveness on this day, but because Hashem wants us to move past our mistakes rather than focus on them. It's like the mourning process, in which there is a specified amount of time in which you can mourn for a person, and than you're expected to move on with life. There is a specified time for you to repent for your mistakes, Yom Kippur, after which you need to then move on.
It's much easier said than done, moving past your mistakes, but that is why tefilla has a prayer for forgiveness. This prayer gives us the opportunity to take a minute three times a day to either remind ourselves that we need to move on, or for us to address new problems and fix them. It isn't meant to make us focus on our mistakes, pulling us down into a pit of despair. If anything it's meant as a release.
When we focus on our mistakes, believing that they are unforgivable, or that we will be punished for them, we underestimate Hashem's love. We doubt Hashem's ability to forgive, and we contribute to the myth of a cruel vindictive god. We need to have faith that Hashem loves us and knows what is best for us. The best way to do this is by doing what's best for ourselves, by forgiving ourselves and moving forward with our lives.
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Iron Fist
New post on NewVoices.org is up. I missed last week due to the holidays, but I believe that similar ideas can be found in last weeks parsha too. I have some thoughts relating to teshuva that I hope to post today, or tomorrow night, depending on if I get it in before Shabbos. Enjoy.
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Iron Fist
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Iron Fist
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