The King

In memory of Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv who died today, 28 Tammuz, at the age of 102 years old and my impressions of him from when I was a bachur.

I met a King today.  This was not the type of King that is recognized through a panoply of pomp and excercise.  In fact, nothing external hinted at the fact that he was a King.  His dress conformed to the norm of his people and while he did have a cane, there was no way to confuse it with a scepter.  The only possible sign of Kingship was the enclosed golf cart that took him the short distance from his apartment to his castle, the House of Study, but even that could be explained away by necessity as he is 96 years old.  Despite the lack of obvious evidence, the Rabbi who arranged the meeting explained that this was immaterial as his Kingship did not hinge on any external factors.  In fact, his Kingship did not even extend beyond his own body.  He is described as a King for a simple reason, he rules over that which is most difficult, himself.  He has mastered his free will to such an extent that he has taken his place among the righteous and has become the most knowledgeable soul on the planet when it comes to the wisdom of the Talmud.   His name is Rabbi Elyashiv, and he is consider to be a Gadol Hador, or the leader of the generation. 

The Rabbi who took us to see him was brimming with childlike excitement as he explained the magnititude of who we were about to meet.  He had attended his class many times, and explained that each time he is overwhelmed by awe.  I can understand this turgid admiration as all the great people I have met this year, albeit one of my Rabbis or a family, is actually more impressive under the microscope of time. Up to this year, the rule of life had always been that the more time you spent with someone the more you are exposed to their limitations.  Here, the more time I have the privelege to spend with certain people, the more that their depth and completeness is revealed.  While I may be under the influence of rose-tinted glasses, I am fairly certain that these observations are accurate.  After all, there is almost a tendency to seek out failure, because to see such great human beings summons ones own deficiencies to consciousness.  

What is amazing about Rabbi Elyashiv, is that many years beyond most people's retirement, he is in the prime of his career.  At the age of 96 years old, he has entered the summer of his life and the peak of his influence.  He has taken the reigns of what is a pure meritocracy.  His influence is directly correlated to the extent of his knowledge.  Wisdom equals power!  The mere statement is refreshing.  Socrates' dream of a philosopher King has come to fruition within small circles here in Jerusalem.  The word for old in Hebrew is 'zakan', which can stand for 'this has been acquired'.  What is 'this' referring too? Wisdom, the only thing that is truly ours in life.  Everything else in life ebbs and flows with time; wisdom only increases.  And here he is, the richest man in the world, by this definition, giving a cogent lecture at the age of 96 years old! 

 After his lecture in Yiddish, people stormed to the front of the fragile man and asked difficult and pointed questions. (That is another big difference between typical leadership, and the leadership you find here.  The great respect accorded to him makes him a leader, but the respect is not one of quiet acquiescence.  Rather, it is a respect of a worthy intellectual opponent.  You are free to challenge him and investigate the depths of his intellect.  There is no such thing as classified information.  The information is free and available to everyone, and whoever has the best and most logical argument is credited.)   We could not hear the responses, but people seemed satisfied.  We waited to the side for him to walk by so that we could shake his hand and get a brief blessing. Eventually, the crowd of questioners parted and he stood up.  His gait was remarkably agile, and his posture showed that daedal blend of dignity and humility that very few people can master.  He shook my hand for a moment and then it was over.   It was a great experience and a fitting part of my last week here.  

What it takes to lead

Just when it looks like humanity is at its homogeneous peak we remind ourselves that this is not the case.  What am I referring to? A great gathering of people and the blessing a person makes when seeing them: ‘Blessed are you the wise knower of secrets’.   Why did the Rabbis institute this blessing?

 Probably the largest mass of people I’ve ever witnessed was at a funeral for the great Rosh Yeshiva of the MIrrer and fellow Chicagoan, Rabbi Nosson Tzvi Finkel.  Not only were there people for as far as the eye could see, but the vast majority wore black hats and suits.  Mixed with the awe that there are so many human beings in this world, there is a feeling that no one is special, yourself included- and those hats only exacerbate the problem.  But we make a blessing that reminds us that, yes, we are unique.   Each person contains a deep secret that must be revealed- what looks the same is nothing but that-looks.   Just as we each have a different face, so too we have a different inside.  Not surprisingly, the word for face, פנים, is the same as the words for internality.  Just as we all look different we all churn differently.  In a crowd, however, faces are lost and we forget. 

                While obvious that everyone is different (how often do we get caught in giant crowds?) that does not translate that we will treat people according to their natures.  More likely, we set a standard for how people should be and when that does not happen, we judge and get inpatient.  For that reason, most of us would not make ideal leaders.  When Moses is about to pass on and he prays that a worthy successor be placed in his stead, what does he ask for?  The midrash says that Moses asked for the following: ‘ May the next leader be patient towards each person according to their temperament…’.  That is the ideal of leadership.  The person who deserves the crown is one who sees each strange person, a זר , and realizes that really the person is a זר (different vowels), a crown- just as special and unique as he is. Therefore,he should be treated on his own terms, not yours. 

                

Better with age

 

                This morning, I sat at the park and tried to learn while my daughter walked around.  She cooed at the cats and demonstrated her latest trick- climbing ladders.  But, for a moment I was engrossed in my learning and didn’t notice when she ran up and started to claw at my legs desperate to get up.  I hadn’t seen anyone else in the park so I was a bit confused.  My daughter tends to be audacious, running up to dogs and meowing at cats.  What scared her? A few second later, the source of the terror appeared.   A mentally ill twenty four year old was walking around with a volunteer caretaker.  The caretaker mused that a girl less than two years old can sense when something is a bit off. 

                We are built with sensitive radars that detect when things are off kilter.  And while they are not meant to be used towards benevolent mentally ill people, they are meant to be used around people who claim to be spiritually uplifted.  How do we know if it is real?

                Well, since we are not always in tune with our internal radars as we are when we are kids, we have to rely on the mind.  One of the hints to a person’s real intentions is to deeply listen to their world views and how they prioritize.  Subconscious tendencies will tell us a lot about where a person is at spiritually.      

                This is the lesson of the rogue seer Bilaam.  He had tremendous spiritual gifts, some of them prophet like.  Despite this, there are several hints that his spiritual prowess was rooted in lowliness.  This is hinted at the difference between how Isaac organized his blessing versus how Bilaam ordered his blessing for Israel. [1] It says in Genesis that Isaac tells Yakov, ‘those who curse you be cursed, and those who bless you be blessed’.  Rashi comments that by Bilaam it was the opposite.  He tells Israel, ‘those who bless you be blessed, those who curse you be cursed.’  The righteous, their outset is suffering and their end is tranquility…the wicked, their outset is tranquility and their end is suffering.

                This slight nuance depicts a deep difference in world view, and consequently, a testimony on their character. A person rooted in lowliness sees life where the best years are the early years, the now.  When a person is physically strong and capable life is at its peak.  Therefore, his later years are ones of suffering and debilitation.  A person rooted in spirituality realizes that the present is hard work and difficulty.  The best life is the growing life and he will reap the rewards later.   It is no surprise that in Hebrew a reference to youth is חרפה, which means shame or winter, and that old age is קץ, which means summer.  That is also why wine plays an integral role in Jewish life- it gets better with age.  

                This trick can also be used on ourselves to know the true intentions of our hearts.  How do we speak about things and how do we prioritize?  We may subconsciously reveal what is in our hearts.

---

[1] Mictav Me’Eliyahu volume five

Need for Peace

Deeply ingrained in our psyche is the desire for another person’s things.  After all, being created in G-d’s image is a double edged sword. On the one hand, we can make real decisions based on reason rather than instinct.  But, on the other hand, we sometimes forget we are not G-d, and therefore, not everything is meant to be ours (in various places within the liturgy, G-d is referred to as the קונה הכל or the ‘owner of everything’).  I see this often in the budding relationship between my daughter and her five months younger cousinly counterpart.  They are both the best of friends and the worst of enemies, simultaneously.  They can jump on the couch together amidst cries of glee and chase each other around the dining round table chortling as they go, but once there is an object involved, especially if there is only one, and surprisingly, even if there are two, the screams of injustice begin.  If they weren’t under two years old, I’d think they’d gone mad.   More than that, when my daughter takes her cousin’s bottle it produces an otherworldly ecstasy, even if it is just water and even if he didn’t want it.  There is a deep seated pleasure in taking from another despite the damage that results. 

                That is the way the world is built- it naturally frays.  If we don’t actively put it together, it will fall apart.  Apart from experiencing this, as we all have, this is embedded in creation itself.  There are many lessons to learn from nature.  Why else would G-d incessantly speak during creation?  If we look at Genesis, G-d is not only ‘creating’ as one might expect during ‘creation’, but everything is prefaced with ‘G-d said’ over and over again to teach us that creation itself is a communication to us. We can look at creation and learn from it.   Present cosmology- the universe is constantly expanding and constantly moving farther apart-tells us that personal growth should be daily and that the world naturally tends to drift apart.  And as we'll see, if we don’t actively put it back together, we are held responsible for causing it to fall apart, which is the lesson taught to us by Moses in his episode with Korach. (See Or Hatzafon 'The depth of preventing dispute')

                Moses was plagued by two enemies throughout his life, Dathan and Aviram.  They tried to get him killed in Egypt when he struck the Egyptian, and later when Moses and Aharon are in negotiations with Pharoh they distrust that it is for their benefit.  And in various other episodes, they are at the heart of the problem.  Yet, despite all of this, when they once again side with the villain, Korach, Moses still goes to them in order try and resolve the issue.[1]  Even more terrifying, the Talmud says that had Moshe not done this, he would have been considered as if he fomented dispute.[2]  Imagine, not only is a person considered to be non-peaceful from passivity, but even if you don’t actively attempt peace with old enemies is a person considered non-peaceful.  And that is because ingrained in us as kids, and ingrained in the universe is that the world drifts apart.  If we don’t actively stand up to fight it we are in a sense causing it.  That is why the live and let live mentality doesn’t work.  If we are not building relationships, from the Torah's perspective, we are responsible for their inevitable destruction. 

               

                                 

---

[1] Numbers 16:2

[2] Sanhedrin 110

looking up

     Who knew that the key to success stood on two feet?  There are various scientific theories for bipedalism, namely, that the freedom of our hands allows for highly advantageous innovations.  However, that advantage should have been canceled out by the aches in our creaky backs.  Being upright doesn’t always pay.   

                The deeper spiritual sources say that the back pain is worth every wince.  Why?  Because the main advantage of bipedal locomotion is that it gives a man a great view.  Here, in particular, is where the scientists and mystics diverge.  Science will say that another advantage of being upright is that it is easier to spot a predator.  A mystic will tell you that the main advantage of the view when upright is not because we can see large swathes of savannah, but because it easy to look up.  And that may be the real key to our success.

                It says in Ethics of our Fathers (2:1) ‘Look at three things and you won’t come to the hands of misuse of potential.  Know what is above from you- an eye sees, an ear hears, and all of your actions are written in a book.’ Why couldn’t the Mishnah state, ‘know these three things’? (1)  Where are we looking?

                The answer is up.  One look at the sky should put us in our place.  We are a fleeting blip on the radar screen.  The incorrect reaction at this point is to quit and say, ’nothing I do really matters, look at how small I am’.  The correct response is that in such a huge world, somebody cared to put me here too.  I wonder why.  It could be that everything I do really matters!  

                Therein is our success.  Our upright posture is meant to work together with the beautiful sky as a constant reminder that there is a reason why we are here.  We all have a free personal trainer screaming in our ears, we need you to do something special here so keep pushing.  Otherwise, why else would you be here?




(1)  See Marahal Derech HaChayim

A new dream

                

There are many things that people dream about, from fame and riches to far simpler things like a stable job or even a juicy steak.  But one dream rarely inspires us- to be holy.  To the modern ear, the word holy is dry and heavy, even stifling.  And what does it mean?  Does it mean to pray a lot, to keep quiet a lot, to fast a lot, and to wear a toga a lot?  Or is holy best used to describe a place where we talk in whispers and don’t make any jokes?

 From the Jewish perspective, holiness should be at the top, or at least near it, for our list of ‘dreams’ because that is what is ultimately mandated to us, ‘you shall be holy’[1].  This directive begins the portion that stands alone in the Torah as the only one where every single person was required to be there to listen to it directly.[2]  Other portions of the Torah were taught to the elders and slowly trickled down to the rest of the people.  So what is the Jewish vision of holiness and why should it inspire us?

                The common idea is that to be holy means to be set apart.  The image of an isolated mountain peak with a solitary human sitting in contemplation fits.  The problem with this conception is that the word ‘holy’ in Hebrew is Kadosh, whose variation Kedushin, is the first step towards marriage.  At a Jewish wedding we say the words, ‘behold you are ‘mekudeshet’ to me.   If we understand that holiness means to be ‘set apart’, then how could we say to our wife to be, ‘behold, you are set apart to me’.  The medieval commentators, therefore, state that it means that a wife is separate apart only for me.  [3] In other words, holiness is used to describe the most intense and fiery bond there is- between husband and wife at the peak of inspiration, the wedding.  It takes a relationship and makes it exclusive, thereby, creating passion.  And that is just the beginning.

                We find holiness every Friday night when we take a cup of wine and call it Kiddush, or holiness.  Why?  We are connecting all aspects of our self to an exclusive higher purpose, the Sabbath.  We intellectually think about what the day is all about as we testify to the Sabbath, and then we bring the connection to Sabbath into our emotions with the wine.  And lastly, this Kiddush can only be done at a place where we will eat a festive meal so that our body also connects to the Sabbath.  So not only is holiness a passionate connection as we see by marriage, but it implies a complete connection to a higher purpose. 

               

                Finally, the uniqueness of Jewish holiness is best expressed by the first commandment given to the Jewish nation, to sanctify time.[5]  We determine when the new month begins.  Why did this merit to be the first commandment? Unlike the scientific conception that links time with movement, Jewish time is linked with purpose and holiness.  The word for time in Hebrew is ‘zman’, which at its root means an invitation, as in a ‘zimmun’ or ‘hazmana’.  Each moment of time is an invitation for development- it demands of us something unique, namely, that we take the moment and connect it to purpose. 

                Now that we know what holiness is all about, an unwavering, complete, and exclusive connection to a higher purpose, we need to know how to get there.  Holiness comes about when we focus on a cause, or in other words, we separate from the trivial in order that our connection to that which is purposeful is strengthened.  Again, the separation is a tool, but not a goal.  And even then, it should be temporary.   Ultimately, our connection to purpose should become so electric that, rather than separate from the mundane, our holiness should transform the mundane into part of the connection. That is the ultimate in holiness, and that is only achieved after much toil and after all behavior expresses the purpose to some degree.  When that happens, the gift of holiness descends upon us along with the complete joy it brings. 

---

[1] Exodus 19:2

[2] See Rashi to verse 19:1

[3] See Tosafos to Kedushin 2b

[4] Ethics of our Fathers 5:8

[5] Exodus 12:2

A dramatic night

For a long while, my life lacked major drama.  What drama could there be in a dry, academic environment? Granted, compared to most academia, Yeshiva is comparably rambunctious, but dramatic it is not.  Food prepared every night, my only real responsibility was to make my bed and be an astute roommate.   Marriage ups the ante a bit.  Here, another adult is living with you in close quarters and between the two a home needs to run.  At times dramatic, but at other times life flows without a hitch; each person learns what their responsibilities are, and complies with their best.   Then, a child comes along, and suddenly, everything is dramatic.  A bath, no! A bit overtired, watch out.  Food is not tasty, on the floor it goes.  Too full, too hot, too thirsty, too bored- what is going to blow next?  A child lives in the body, and then shouts from the heart with little filter to stop it.  But, they may be on to something.  When a child emotes, the whole world moves.  We spring to action to douse the fire, when appropriate of course.   Obviously, too much movement makes for a spoiled tyke and who wants that.  But, the beauty of that expressive heart is that it moves people so wonderfully- who else can make you spring out of a bed after a few hours’ sleep? 

                This is what Seder night is supposed to be, a call to action.  There is a silent epidemic of boring Seders across the world.  People regurgitate the story, or talk about intellectual points. But Seder night needs to be the most exciting day of the year.  It is heart across the board, inspiration to the umpteenth. By the end of the night, if you are not itching to change the world in dramatic fashion, something didn’t go right.  You were just saved from destruction, and that does not come for free, but for a responsibility.  There is something you are supposed to do for that dramatic rescue; there is a reason why you are here.  And if you haven’t felt saved in your gut, and ready to pounce to action, then another year has been wasted.  

                Everywhere we turn in the Jewish religion, Egypt follows us.  Like a shadow we can’t escape, Egypt lurks.  Before we step into our silent prayers, the last thing on our mind is that G-d redeemed me from Egypt.  Wait, if we are constantly, thinking about Egypt, why do we need Seder night?  We know the story- we said it last year and thought about it every day since then.  Because on Seder night, we are not ‘remembering’, זכירה, Egypt as we do every day, but we are ‘recounting’ םיפור, telling the story in dramatic fashion.  And just like a holocaust survivor’s story tugs at our heart each time we hear it, so too Seder night.  It does not matter that we’ve heard it time and again, because a story form is powerful. It uses details and the art of the question to tug us along.  Our goal on Seder night is to make drama, and the Haggadah is the dramatic child that moves us.