Category: Love

How to Avoid Playing with the Most Dangerous Fire

22/5/2019

Stay Out of It

While daas Torah unites in its primary goal (perfecting our souls & perfecting the world), it can diverge regarding how to accomplish the goal.

In shiurim in which someone asks the rabbi or rebbetzin about taking sides, either in a machloket between rabbanim or just differing streams of TORAH-TRUE Judaism (whether between the misnagdim & chassidim of yore, or the different chassidic groups, or any divergent derechs today), the answer was always:
"STAY OUT OF IT."

Rav Avigdor Miller constantly warned his listeners not to get involved in any way because he insisted it's getting involved in fire. Don't do it!

Rav Miller himself was a Slabodka Litvak. Yet not only did he never put down groups following other daas Torah, he even defended their right to follow their own Torah-based daas Torah, whether it was another type of Litvish (like Telshe) or Sephardi or any kind of Chassidus.

You can follow your Rav/Rebbe without fighting with anyone else and without denigrating anyone else, whether the Rav/Rebbe himself or someone from his group.

(Clarification: "Someone from his group" means someone who actually follows the rav, and doesn't just use a distorted version of the Rav/Rebbe's hashkafah to indulge his or her own yetzer hara.)

And honestly?

If it's a real talmid chacham, you should be able to see the value of his derech, understand WHY he is doing what he's doing...even if you don't personally follow or agree with that derech.

After exploring the issues, you should be able to come to some kind of intellectual understanding and even appreciation of a wholly Torah-allegiant yet different derech.

Furthermore, any kind of real daas Torah does not generally WANT you fighting with others, even to defend his honor.

So why do it? If you really respect him, why go against his will?

What If He isn't the Rav You Think He is?

Another reason why STAY OUT OF IT and APPRECIATE ALL LEGITIMATE TORAH PATHS are such important and helpful advice is that sometimes, you can think that your favorite speaker or your shul rabbi is a tremendous chacham for whom you're willing to go to battle.

This is particularly likely to happen among people who haven't yet gained enough knowledge to know that while their rabbi is a cool guy and a smart one, he's definitely not a talmid chacham.

I learned this lesson the hard way. (Story for another time.)

Anyway, this is something I wish I could shout from the rooftops:
Smicha does NOT mean a rabbi is wise, insightful, or good.

It COULD mean that, but it doesn't have to.

All smicha (rabbinical ordination) really means is that a guy passed a test of academic knowledge. If it was high-level smicha, he's probably intellectually intelligent.

But that doesn't mean he's "a big talmid chacham!" or anyone you should be swooning or tussling over.

(And yes, I've heard people swooning over or boasting of or defending the honor of their favorite rabbi, calling him a "a big talmid chacham" when he definitely is NOT. A smart guy? Yes. A nice, sincere guy? Maybe. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. A charismatic guy? Yes. An actual talmid chacham? NO.)

So that's another reason not to get too wound up. You might be getting wound up for no good reason at all.

Case in point: When I was becoming frum, I really thought so many people were so smart and so frum, and that certain rabbis I met were powerhouses of Torah knowledge.

Then over the years, I realized that, while all these people should be appreciated and admired and respected for their many good points, they weren't Rebbetzin or Rav Kanievsky.

And that's fine!

So while it's important to humble oneself to listen and learn from people who know more than you, there are still higher levels and lower levels of Torah knowledge & behavior, and we shouldn't make people into something they are not.

It's a tribute to frumkeit that a guy can spend his childhood and young adulthood in yeshivah, and come out with such impressive knowledge. And then as he keeps reviewing throughout life and maybe even gets smicha, he really does accumulate an impressive amount of Torah learning.

VERY GOOD.

But it doesn't mean he has internalized it.

It doesn't mean he is a talmid chacham.

Getting Down to the Nitty-Gritty

So...love and appreciate different groups and different daas Torah (REAL ones) even as you stick to your own derech.

And love and appreciate your favorite rav, but know what he is not (unless, of course, he really is a genuinely tremendous talmid chacham. Some are.).

And this all goes for me too, of course.

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On the Profound Loss of the Kaliver Rebbe, Rav Menachem Mendel Taub ztz"l

28/4/2019

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Starting from before Pesach, we've been losing precious Jews (in addition to frightening incidents survived by other precious Jews).

I'm even hesitant to start naming each one for fear of forgetting one.

One very big heartbreak is the loss of the Kaliver Rebbe, Rav Menachem Mendel Taub ztz'l.

While I never had the privilege of meeting him, I was always impressed by his simchas chaim, along with the sweetness & temimus emanating from his face.

In fact, his simchas chaim, sweetness, and temimus make no sense in the face of what he suffering during the Shoah: In addition to the "standard" horrors, the Kaliver Rebbe suffered in the Auschwitz "clinic" of inhuman human experimentation.

As a result of this sadistic treatment, the Rebbe was never able to re-grow his beard. He never had children either.

May all his deeds, the Torah-true Jews he influenced and the Torah institutions he founded and nurtured, and the sefarim he composed be considered as "offspring" for him.

His success as a Rebbe on American soil is also amazing.

All he accomplished — both the exterior accomplishments of re-building Yiddishkeit in a foreign land & the inner accomplishments of his personal tzidkus — can only be the result from his profoundly pure middah of emunah.

You can read an English-language interview with him here:
The Kaliver Rebbe: "Each day is its own Yom Hashoah."

Please note the crystalline Torah hashkafah in his answers.

For example, his firm "Yes!" on whether it is important for young people today to remember and learn about the Holocaust is based on the Torah directive to remember what Amalek has done to the Jewish people AND as a way to unify the Jewish Nation, which prevents war.

His advice for preventing another Shoah & protecting the Jewish people in general can be summarized as follows:

Solid emunah in Hashem
Loving our fellow Jews
Serving Hashem with joy
Keeping Shabbat scrupulously
Saying "Shema Yisrael"

Incredible advice from a Jew who endured unimaginable torments...all because he was a Jew.

May we please merit Rebbe Menachem Mendel ben Yehudah Yechiel as a melitz yosher for us all.

Yizkor...Remember...

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Lowering Inhibitions for Holiness

7/3/2019

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One morning, I was on the bus returning from taking my son to gan when a sweet-faced respectably dressed young woman in her late teens/early twenties seated herself next to me, held up a little siddur (prayerbook), and self-consciously asked me if I would say Amen to her brachot (blessings).

Except that I didn’t hear her at first because the bus was so noisy. So she needed to repeat her request twice more, and I started feeling uncomfortable because I felt I was making her uncomfortable when she was obviously already self-conscious (yet pleasant) about making her request one time, let alone several times.

Finally, an older lady sitting behind us said, “YES. I’LL say Amen to your brachot!”

“Me too,” I said quickly, feeling awkward, relieved, yet filling up with warm fuzzies all that the same time.

So the young woman started reciting Birkot Hashachar (the morning blessings), and I still couldn’t hear her so well. But the lady behind us now had her head between ours and each time she asserted, “Amen!” in my ear, that was my cue too.

So I was straining to listen to the young woman because I wanted to give a real Amen, but I also didn’t want to say Amen too early (before she finished her bracha) or too late (and say Amen to the previous bracha when she already wanted to recite the next bracha).

So the whole thing was kind of awkward and bumbling—yet heart-warming too.

Then the lady behind us got off the bus and I fumbled through the Amens on my own, but the young woman didn’t seem bothered at all.

By the time I needed to get off the bus, I’d grown extremely fond of this lovely young woman and her unassuming piety. Also, we 3 “sisters” had shared a spiritual experience together—even before breakfast!—and that’s a great way to start the day.

As I stood up to go, the lovely bas Yisrael said, “Thank you” with a friendly smile.

“Thank YOU!” I replied, grateful that she had merited me to say Amen so much.

I never have the guts to do this kind of thing myself, so I always admire those who can go up to a perfect stranger (though we actually all know each from Har Sinai) and do this kind of thing.

You go, girl!

And this is the tahor side of lowering your inhibitions.

In Eretz Yisrael, you can be uninhibitedly frum—and no one thinks you’re showing off or eccentric (unless, of course, you actually are).

Yet because there are also frum buses in New York, I don’t know if this is an “Only-in-Israel!” story, but it’s true that living in Eretz Yisrael definitely facilitates uninhibited frumkeit.

The truth is that in Eretz Yisrael, you can also ask a seemingly secular person to say Amen to your brachot on the bus. Not only would they have some cognizance of what you’re doing and what you want from them, many would also be happy to do so.

But the other point I wanted to make is about the bumbling, fumbling awkwardness that sometimes accompanies ruchniut (spirituality).

For example, being fruitful and multiplying is a very spiritual activity.

Yet mothers of small children know that you can’t always be polished no matter how hard you try. Maybe you’ve got baby spit-up on your navy skirt and you don’t even notice.

Maybe you didn’t even see the person who just said hi to you because you’re trying to cross the street while pushing a double stroller with two other kids holding onto the sides and all your frantic head-twisting to keep track of everyone—plus the wind—just nudged your hair-covering over one of your eyes.

Sometimes, before you know Hebrew or understand how a frum prayer service works, you get lost in the davening. You’re on the wrong page, you don’t stand up with everyone on time or else you stand at the wrong times, and so on.

And this is all SO NORMAL.

Sure, I could’ve described the above story as follows:
One morning, the young woman sitting next to me on the bus held up her siddur and invited me to say Amen to her brachot. Of course, I gladly complied—and so did the woman sitting behind us.

It felt so good to be in this warm nest of brachot and to bond with perfect strangers because after all, we really are one family.

Only in Israel!

And there would be nothing wrong with writing the above.

In fact, writers edit out the "static" all the time—not to deceive the reader (the warm fuzzy familial feelings are totally real)—but to make smoother reading for the reader. Otherwise, it’s like reading something transcribed from a stutterer.

But I decided to write it up exactly how it played out, with all the fumbles and bumbles, because that’s all part of authentic ruchnius.

You can be clumsy and awkward in mitzvot, yet feel really good all at the same time.

And that's because you ARE doing something really good—even if you're fumbling with it.

Those two women on the bus put me in such a good mood, despite all the awkward bits of it.

It felt really good, we all accomplished something spiritual we wouldn’t have otherwise, we bonded, and…

…it was good in Hashem's Eyes.

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The True Story of an Undercover Angel

12/2/2019

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Like other only-in-Israel stories, I met a spectacular yet undercover baalat chessed on the city bus over 20 years ago.

(A ba'alat or ba'al chessed is a person who excels at acts of loving-kindness, compassion, and generosity.)

Let’s call this baalat chessed Malka.

Elegance with Chessed & Simple Living

Born & raised in Morocco, Malka made aliyah with her parents & siblings when she was 15 and was approaching her seventh decade of life when I met her. She sported a very modest short shaitel of honeyed brown with tasteful waves of blondish streaks. Her feminine suit of dark beige, light beige, and dusty rose was paired with dark beige pumps. She powdered her face and wore a lovely shade of rose lipstick.

Slightly stooped with age, she swayed elegantly on her Queen Anne heels as she made her way through the streets.

Neither of us knew she would end up shattering a bunch of my assumptions – one of which was that a big baalat chessed flits around at lightning speed in order to accomplish her many acts of kindness.

Not Malka. Always graceful and refined, Malka accomplished so much while never moving faster than a swan floating over a calm lake.

Her children then married with families of their own, Malka lived with her white-bearded husband in a cramped apartment in the city. It was as clean as you could make an old run-down place, with crocheted or embroidered doilies draped all over dark furniture.

Across one wall of the living room, a line of tall bookcases displayed photo albums and mammoth folders.

The albums not only held photos of her family, but photos of weddings she hosted in her small backyard.

That was my first surprise with Malka.

Matchmaker, Couples Counselor, Caterer...

The couples, many of whom were young Russian immigrants alone in Eretz Yisrael, could not afford a wedding. So Malka hosted the chuppah in her own yard.

Malka also provided the food.

She hosted a wedding anywhere from once a week to every couple of months, depending. Noting her age and her slow rhythm, I asked her how she managed to cater the weddings (from her rundown narrow kitchen).

“They aren’t big weddings,” she explained languidly. “Just the friends and whatever family is here.”

Yes, except that Malka wasn’t doing simple foods – meat-stuffed zucchinis, for example, take time and skill.

“When neighbors stop by,” she said, “they see what I’m doing and offer to help. Sometimes, I ask them if they wouldn’t mind helping me in the kitchen while we chat.”

“It doesn’t bother them?” I asked.

“No,” she said, her eyes widening slightly over her smile, “they’re happy to help.”

She also specialized in re-marrying divorced couples and took extra satisfaction in that. She described how she introduced them to mitzvah observance and gave them in her own brand of pre-marital counseling (though she didn’t call it that), explaining that there usually weren’t very serious problems, but that these couples divorced because they didn’t know what else to do.

They were decent people who simply didn’t know how to get along.

She also felt that a lack of Torah values was a serious problem in the marriage and that by getting couples to observe halacha and proper Jewish hashkafah, they could end up with a successful marriage.

“See this?” she said tapping long her rose-manicured fingernail on one kallah’s very low neckline. (The kallah’s face was covered in a veil so I couldn’t see her.) “I was concerned about this under the chuppah – especially with Rav Mordechai Eliyahu officiating.”

I frowned. Though still new to the frum scene in Eretz Yisrael, I’d already heard of Rav Mordechai Eliyahu and couldn’t imagine that such a big and important tzaddik was being mesader kiddushin for some impoverished barely-frum couple in someone’s untended backyard.

I still wonder if my memory is playing tricks on me. But I have clear memories of her referencing the rav several times in conversation and also seeing photos with him in front of the couple with his eyes glued to the page in front of him as he went through the Kiddushin.

Anyway…she continued, “But the rav said that I shouldn’t say one word!”

She made a stern face and slashed her finger through the air in recollection of his firmness about the issue.

“He reassured me that he would just keep his eyes down so not to see anything he shouldn’t and that I should continue to be mekarev them. Eventually, he said, the kallah would realize on her own.” Her eyes widened and her eyebrows arched as she looked at me. “And you know what? That’s exactly what happened! This kallah” – she tapped the low neckline again – “this kallah now wears her neckline up to here” – Malka indicated just under her chin – “and she covers her hair too. Just like the rav said would happen. So I never tell them anything. Patience. That’s what people need. Just be patient and keep working with them and they’ll get there on their own.”

In addition to making shiddichum, and hosting and catering weddings, Malka also provided these couples with furniture and a couple months of rent.

And not just for these couples either.

A One-Woman Gemach

Malka opened one of the mammoth folders to show them bursting with thank-you notes. Page after page from grateful recipients and social workers:

Thank you so much, Malka, for the 200 shekels! It really helped us out in a pinch.

Thank you, Malka, for providing the family with much-needed beds. (from a social worker)

Malka, thank you SO MUCH for the cart full of groceries! You literally saved us!

Money, groceries, beds – page after page showed that those were the items Malka provided most.

I scanned the shelves full of thick folders exactly like the one on my lap.

“Where do you get all that money to give all this to people?” I asked.

She gave a ladylike laugh and an elegant shrug. “Oh…just here and there…”

I never did find out how she was able to finance all this.

The Hidden Underground of Jerusalem

I found myself fascinated with her.

This dainty, elegant petite Moroccan lady with her Queen Anne heels and her unhurried pace and serene smile – tending to the emotional, spiritual, and financial needs of people who were desperate, lost, broken, living in miserable circumstances, or just needed a hand.

I shadowed her when I could, spending a couple of Shabbats with her and accompanying her on her rounds.

One time, she took me around to different hovels.

I had no idea there was this whole underground in Jerusalem. Old Arab hovels made of stones – and no plaster or paint on the inside either. Just an old stone edifice. They’re easy to miss because to access them, you need to turn off the sidewalk into a grassy, pebbly area until you reach a flight of stairs leading down to the door of the hovel.

From ground level, you just see the roof, which looks like a pile of stones or an abandoned hovel (which it is).

But one flight down into the ground stands the door.

Equipped with a basket of tea, food, and a thermos of hot water, we stood at one door as Malka knocked.

No answer.

But she kept knocking until Malka decided to open the door a crack and peeked in, telling the person who she was and that she’d brought a friend. I was scandalized by this breach of etiquette. What was Malka doing? She gestured for me to come in with her and whispered reassurance that this was definitely okay.

So I hesitantly followed her in.

I just remember slate gray stone all around when we entered into what seemed like a very narrow kitchen. The kitchen opened up into a narrow room with a bed upon which lay a person with an arm over the face.

Malka spoke in a quiet neighborly way as the person tried to sit up, then fell back again, then sat up again. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. The person had extremely cropped salt ‘n’ pepper hair and wore a T-shirt and sweat pants over a pudgy non-descript body. The voice could also belong to a high-pitched man or a low-pitched woman.

I tried to catch the person’s name when Malka made introductions, but it was also something ambiguous like “Yonah.”

Inwardly, I grimaced with discomfort.

Because Hebrew pronouns and verbs are either masculine or feminine with no gender-neutral form, I couldn’t say a word to this person for fear of getting the gender wrong and causing offense.

Malka seemed perfectly at home and offered tea, to which the person replied there was no electricity. With a smile, Malka held up the thermos and proceeded to make tea for all of us.

The person seemed very grateful for Malka’s visit and the tea, and as I strained to hear how Malka addressed the person, I realized it was a woman. A very butch-looking woman.

Having roused herself to sit up in the bed chair, she invited Malka to sit down and graciously invited me to take a seat in the only chair. Malka perched herself on end of the mattress.

Then Malka started chatting and the woman brightened up. She mentioned that she wasn’t well and Malka responded with sympathy. But our “hostess” included me in the conversation too and I wondered at the transformation from impoverished homeless neglected nebbuch to a hostess with guests and dignity.

Here we were, three ladies taking tea and making polite conversation – in an abandoned underground hovel with no electricity or indoor plumbing.

Removing My Rose-Colored Glasses

As a side note, when my husband found out I was accompanying Malka to these places during our first year of marriage, his eyes widened in horror and he started shaking. Growing up in one of Israel’s poor delinquent immigrant neighborhoods, he was bit more familiar with these types.

“These people are drug addicts!” he said. “How can you go to their homes? That’s so dangerous!”

That had never occurred to me. “I didn’t see any sign of drugs,” I protested.

“Well, their children then,” said my husband. “Even if those people are okay, their children could just show up.” He got shaky again.

Then he explained that in Israel, it was very odd to have an older person abandoned to living in a primitive hovel. There are family, friends, social services, and the like. Why can’t the person avail herself of these resources?

“Because they don’t have them,” said my husband. “Either their children want nothing to do with them after all they put them through or their children are addicts and criminals who don’t care about their parents – and if so, why did those children turn out so badly? Who let’s their mother or father live in such conditions?”

And regarding social services and health funds, etc., my husband pointed out that there must be a reason why these people to don't use these services. Maybe they want to stay under the radar? Maybe they have unsavory reasons?

Ohhhh….

(And now Malka’s confidence at entering uninvited made sense. The person indeed wanted her company and her goodies, but wasn’t able to rouse herself to respond.)

Yet everyone was so lovely and sympathetic as seen through Malka’s eyes!

Yet I had to admit that my husband’s points made a lot of sense.

Also, growing up in secular America, it’s perfectly natural to find older people neglected and ignored by their offspring, so I didn’t think anything of it.

While there are many dedicated adult offspring in the US, I’d noticed the vehemence with which many adult children wanted to rush their aging parents into a home. Yeah, of course it’s often necessary, but these adult children do so without much sympathy or compassion for what their aging parent is facing. And once shut away, some people rarely talk to or visit their parents.

Too many adult children seem all too ready to pull the plug on aging parents in hospitals under the faux compassion of not “wanting them to suffer.” And after the funeral, your sympathy is met with a blithe, “Well, it was just her time to go!” or a cheery “Well, she’d been deteriorating anyway, so it was better this way!” – with cheerful music blasting in the background.

So I didn’t realize that abandoned parents might be the sign of serious dysfunction in the parent or criminal activity on the part of the children.

The Secret to Real Chessed: Humility

It fascinated me how a classy lady like Malka put on no airs when she was with these people. They felt totally comfortable with her. Also, there was something about the way she related to them that gave them back their self-respect and human dignity.

But she didn’t view herself as better than these people, just luckier. And I think that’s the secret to being a truly humble baal chessed. It has to come from inside, that you don’t approach such people as a queen lowering herself to extend largess to the needy.

I’ve noticed that other baalei chessed are the same; they feel lucky not superior. They just feel like they could be in the same place as these people, except they were given better lives.

Yet how had Malka found these people?

She just noticed, she said. She’d see these hovels and go to investigate. Or people noticed and told her.

Nurturing Runaway Girls

As I got to know Malka, it became obvious the she was the address people turned to when they discovered deprivation of some sort. And not just regular people, but social workers and cops also turned to Malka.

In fact, several decades earlier when she was raising teenagers herself, she got calls from the police in the middle of the night:

“We found this Jewish girl wandering around the Muslim Quarter and she refuses to give her name or say where she lives. She doesn’t want to go home. Can we bring her to you?”

Malka always said yes.

(If a teenage Jewish girl in Israel prefers being among Arabs in the middle of the night, then her home is BAD.)

Malka and her family lived in a larger home back then and she set up chairs and sofas in an alcove off the main living area. When the cops dropped the girl off, Malka led her to the alcove, where the girl would huddle up with her head down and not speak or eat.

Fortunately (yet unfortunately), she wouldn’t be the only girl there.

Malka explained how she just let them sit there until they realized there were other girls around them in the same position. Slowly, they started talking to each other:

“Do you live here?”

“No. I was brought here by the police.”

“What? You were? So was I!”

“Really? What were you doing?”

“I was wandering around the streets in the middle of the night because I didn’t want to go home and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Really? Me too.”

“Really? You too? I thought I was the only one who felt that way. Why didn’t you want to go home?”

And hesitantly, they started talking about what was going on at home.

“Really? That happened to you too? I thought it was just me!”

These girls teetered between their silent huddled positions and raising their heads to lean forward and whisper with their fellow traumatized girls.

After 3 or 4 days of this, they were able uncurl themselves and come out of their lethargy, at which point Malka could approach them.

Malka nurtured them into becoming frum. She taught them how to run a home by allowing them to become full participants in running her home. They stayed for 2-4 years, depending. Eventually, she found them shidduchim and married them off.

“How did you find husbands for them?” I wanted to know.

“They needed sensitive boys, of course,” Malka answered. “Understanding boys. But boys from a background like theirs, boys who also hadn’t grown up frum, but became religious later. So that’s who I found for them.”

“And these boys didn’t mind marrying girls from such a dysfunctional background?” I said, still perplexed because this flew in the face of what American society said and stereotypes about frum people.

Now Malka looked as stern as she was able. “It’s not the girls’ fault,” she stated. “These are very nice girls! It’s not their fault how their fathers were.”

“Of course it’s not their fault!” I rushed to defend myself against the misunderstanding. “And I’m really glad for them that they landed in your home and that you did so much for them.”

But then I needed to know if they became functional mothers and wives.

“Yes,” said Malka, cocking her head to one side and looking totally mystified by the question. “Why not?”

And she emphasized again how these were very good girls who just needed a leg up, girls who wanted to cultivate warm homes and loving families of their own. And were just fine once they were given the skills to do so.

“How many girls did you do this for?” I asked.

“Oh, I don’t remember exactly…” she said. “Ten? Twelve?”

“You had ten or twelve traumatized teenage girls living in your home?” I said.

“Well, not all at one time,” she said. “It was spread out over the years.”

“Okay, but still!” I said. “How did you do that?”

Her eyes widened at the question, then her face her lovely smile expanded over her face. “We had a large home,” she said.

“Okay…” I said.

But as we all know, a large home is not enough to explain chessed on this level.

You need so much patience, empathy, insight, and wisdom to nurture profoundly traumatized teenagers back into good emotional health.

So I kept probing to discover where she had the emotional and mental resources to do all this for so many girls for so many years, but she honestly did not understand my mystification.

So she just kept repeating the following:

“Well,” she said, “our sons didn’t live at home, so that wasn’t a problem. We sent them to learn in yeshivah abroad to avoid the draft…”

“They were basically good girls who just needed a good home and some nurturing.”

“It’s easy to understand them after all they suffered. I never judged them.”

“Hayah lanu bayit gadol – We had a large home.”

And her husband was okay with everything. Heck, he financed the whole thing!

The Making of a Baalat Chessed

Anyway, I finally came to the conclusion that she saw dysfunctional people not as dysfunctional, but as basically decent people who are down on their luck. They encountered difficult circumstances and some made mistakes (if you can call lifelong drug addiction a “mistake”), but that can all be remedied with a lot of time, patience, and gentle guidance.

And even if it can’t be remedied – like maybe the androgynous woman living in a hovel will never get her act together – it’s still important to be kind and compassionate.

Also, Malka wasn’t just empathetic, she was an empath.

She intuited what people needed, even people who were very different than herself. And while I think empathy can be cultivated, I also think that her special depth of perception is a gift. And she used it well!

Throughout all this, I imagined that Malka grew up with a very special mother. But when I asked her about her parents, she immediately denied that her mother was the source of influence and described their family life back in Morocco:

“My mother sat all day on silk cushions eating bon-bons,” she said. “Merchants came to the home to display different fabrics from which she could choose to have yet another dress made.”

Then her face lit up as she said, “But my father…! My father was a wealthy man who kept two boxes by the back door. One was full of clothes and the other was full of money. We weren’t ever allowed to answer that door. When someone knocked, my father hurried to answer it. He opened it a crack and asked what the person needed. If they said clothes, he sank his arms into the box of clothes and heaved out a pile of clothes while closing his eyes tight and he thrust his armful of clothes through the slightly open door to give the person the clothes. If they needed money, he sank his arms into the box of money and passed handfuls of money through the opening. If they still needed more, then he gave them more.”

She paused. “He never saw to whom he was giving. He never knew who received the money and clothes.”

In this way, her father kept the dignity and privacy of the recipient, as per the laws of tzedakah.

Malka’s face glowed as she spoke of her father’s chessed.

When they came to Israel, Malka was fifteen and ended up being the oldest of 10 children. In severely reduced circumstances, her father did what he could to keep his wife as close as possible to the lifestyle to which she was accustomed. He toiled at more than one job, including that of a streetsweeper.

Malka balked at her respectable formerly successful father sweeping the streets. She even voiced her objection to him working so hard and at such menial jobs – only to keep her mother in the role of pampered princess.

“I prefer sweeping the streets of Yerushalayim to being a businessman in chutz l’Aretz,” he declared. Then he explained to Malka that he felt it was his duty to care for his wife in this way, explaining that the reduction in circumstances was a lot to ask of her.

“But you’ve made the adjustment!” Malka protested.

Yes, her father said. But he felt he was man enough to take it.

I think that also, without the servants they’d had in Morocco, a lot of the housework and childcare fell on Malka. Plus, if I remember correctly, the indulging of the mother came at some expense to the other family members.

Achieving Spiritual Perfection in an Imperfect Life

At seventeen, they married off Malka to a local Moroccan boy who’d fought in the Irgun and learned chevruta with another teenage boy who later became one of the Sefardi gedolei hador.

There weren’t many committed religious boys to choose from at that time and he seemed a good prospect. And indeed, Malka’s husband remained committed to Torah and mitzvot and raised their sons to become yeshivah bachurs, which was an impressive feat in those times. (Apparently, sending them to yeshivah abroad was indeed the saving of them.)

But he was never Malka’s equal in middot or wisdom and he never achieved much in Torah. When I knew him as an older man with a white beard, he clearly wasn’t a knowledgeable Jew either.

(If you’re wondering how that can be when he originally learned chevruta with a budding gadol hador, I can tell you that a more skilled partner can carry the chevruta. Meaning, one partner is doing most of the learning and explaining while the other listens – but doesn’t necessarily retain.)

And that was another remarkable thing about Malka: She went through life with a partner who was not close to her level and didn’t have much to give her spiritually, as ideally there should be within a Jewish marriage. But certainly, he deserves credit for financing Malka’s chessed activities and for hosting a dozen runaways in his home over the years.

Focusing on Spiritual Beauty

Needless to say, getting to know Malka had a tremendous impact on me. I’d like to discuss more about what I learned from her in a future post.

Also, there are more stories to tell. But this is enough for now.

But for now, I just wanted to share with you the knowledge of a real baalat chessed. There’s so much negative stuff in the world and the corrupted baddies always make it to the front page of the news, but it’s so important to look at the people who ARE doing things right.

People who sincerely internalize Torah values tend to operate under the radar, but really, we need to shine some light on their deeds to give us chizuk and hope, and to remind ourselves of the true exaltedness of a neshamah in action.

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How to Love Different Groups of Frum Jews & Why You Should (Plus, How to Choose a Path for Yourself)

17/1/2019

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Rav Miller’s dvar Torah for Parshat Beshalach is one very close to my heart:

Appreciating different groups of Jews.

Ever since our inception, Hashem has kept the Jewish people divided-yet-united into very different Tribes.

Rav Miller insists that having a wide (halachically legitimate) variety of different Jews makes life more fun.

And it does!

Some Nice Stories

One of my fondest memories of Shabbat in Tzfat was going up the unending staircase (Tzfat is built on a small mountain) and hearing Lecha Dodi sung in several different nusachs, depending on what shul I happened to be passing at that moment.

The modern-day coming together of different groups and their customs always makes me feel like we truly are different links (or pearls!) within the same necklace.

If one is missing, the whole strand falls apart.

And I’m far from being the only one who feels this way.

Many, many frum Jews enjoy an opportunity to connect with other frum Jews from different ethnicities and nationalities.

In fact, I have a Yerushalmi chassidish neighbor who loves hanging out with Sephardi neighbors and lately, she’s also been inviting Russian baalei teshuvah couples for meals. She’s very makpid with her own children that they should never denigrate another group. I can tell that it’s all fun for her (and because I’m Sefardi by marriage and American by birth, I end up being part of her fun too).

After she came back from a trip to different holy graves of Rebbes in Eastern Europe, she enthused about how a Breslov woman on the bus inspired her with a steady stream of Breslov thought throughout the ride to Uman. “I said Tikkun Haklali at the grave of Rebbe Nachman!” she bubbled. “And I saw orot (lights/spiritual illumination)—yes, really!”

And she is part of a chassidus reputed to oppose Breslov (although Rav Levi Yitchak Bender insisted that this wasn’t true, as stated by the Rebbe of that chassidus himself).

My son, who learns in a standard Sefardi charedi yeshivah, spent Shabbat in Kiryat Arba-Chevron and enjoyed every minute of the warm, vibrant Judaism of his Kahanist hosts. Everyone was really nice to him and no one agonized over why he was in yeshivah as opposed to the army (a scenario that sometimes occurs outside the charedi community). He experienced a lot of warmth, acceptance, and good old-fashioned ahavat Yisrael combined with tremendous ahavat Torah—the divrei Torah never stopped flowing.

He doesn’t want to join that community; he’s happy where he is. But he received tremendous enjoyment and inspiration from frum Jews who are living a very different life.

A Litvish charedi kollel guy from America spent his first month of Shabbosim in Eretz Yisrael davening in a different shul for each tefillah. He experienced different kinds of chassidus and different kinds of Sefardi, and he thoroughly enjoyed himself. If you saw him, you’d think he is a very quiet serious-but-nice conventional Litvak. And he is! But that doesn’t contradict his healthy appreciation for other frum groups.

But other than providing us with lots of fun, there are other reasons why Hashem insists on the “Divided-Yet-United” paradigm…

Serving in Hashem's Army

The only way to learn how to truly love others is to be forced to love people who aren’t exactly like you. And not only that, people whose attitudes are very different than yours—maybe even at odds.

For example, some frum communities are very into insulating themselves against non-Jewish society and building a kind of self-imposed to ghetto around themselves. Other frum communities march out into the world, spreading Torah to the darkest corners and lovingly gathering in as many lost souls as they can.

You might personally find one much more appealing than the other. But in reality, both are vitally necessary. Both are in service of Hashem.

Rav Miller gives some practical examples:

So when a person from Dan was passing by and a boy from Yehudah saw him, he might have a yetzer hara to ridicule and say, “Tatty, look at that man. Look at his funny clothing.”

So his father scolded his son, “Oh no, don’t laugh at him. He’s our brother from the holy Tribe of Dan. Have respect. Every Tribe is holy.”

The Tribe of Ephraim pronounced the letter shin as sin. So instead of saying “Shabbat Shalom,” they said “Sabbat Salom.” Rav Miller imagines the following scenario:

And when a boy of Shevet Reuven said, “Look, Abba! Isn’t that strange how this person from Ephraim is speaking a queer language—he can’t pronounce the words,” so his father said, “Shh, we don’t talk that way. Shevet Efraim is holy. It’s a very holy Tribe. They’re our people, our brothers.”

As Rav Miller explains: A military needs an army, a navy and an airforce. We need foot soldiers, soldiers in tanks, and soldiers who are sitting behind a computer in Intelligence.

The Jews are in Hashem’s Army.

As Rav Miller explains:

Among ourselves, we have to be the best of friends. Because no matter where you are—you could be a Jew in Australia, a Satmerer in Williamsburg or a Jew in Tel Aviv—we’re all in this world for one purpose: to serve Hakadosh Baruch Hu.

When we feel that we’re all fighting together for one cause, to serve Hashem, we’re all marching together in the same regiment, so it’s much easier to have a love for your fellow men.

How much of an affection are you supposed to feel for brothers who are of one mind with you!

Learning from Everyone

Another reason for the divisions is in order to learn good things from each other.

Each halachically legitimate group emphasizes another important aspect of Torah. If you bury your head in the sand of your own group all your life, you might miss out on some very important aspect of avodat Hashem.

One group davens late because they spend so much time arousing their hearts toward passionate tefillah. Other group davens right a sunrise to catch that special time and start their day off right and exemplify zerizut for a mitzvah.

We need to learn from both of them.

Practical Tips to Get Started

Practically speaking, Rav Miller advises that when you walk into a frum shul, you should say, “This is my nation, my brothers! And we all share the common purpose of serving Hashem.”

When you’re walking down a street with many frum inhabitants, you should be thinking, “I’m walking among my people. B’toch ami anochi yoshevet. It’s my people and I love them. I don’t care what hat he wears or what group he belongs to—it’s all my people!”

And in a crowded kosher supermarket? Here’s what Rav Miller recommends:

…and it’s crowded and the lines are long—these are precious moments! You’re looking down the aisles and all you can see are your “brothers and sisters.”

Women, men, children—all buying kosher food. That’s a nation dedicated with a singular heart to Hakadosh Baruch Hu. "Yisrael ein lahem eleh lev echad l’Avihem sheh baShamayim—The whole Am Yisrael has but one heart devoted to their Father in Heaven" (Sukkah 45b).

It’s not just poetry; that’s actually the greatness of the Am Yisrael that binds us as brothers.

It all reminds me of Tzirel Rus Berger’s (The Mountain Family) wonder and nachat when she first moved her family to a frum neighborhood: “I have the descendants of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov playing in my backyard!”

What a beautiful—and true!—way of looking at Jewish children.

Which Path is Right for YOU?

And here’s a big question:

How do you know which group, which hashkafah, which type of avodah is best for you?

Rav Miller says:

Hashem wants you to be the best that you can be.

Some people can be their best if they're chassidish.

Some people can be their best if they're litvish.

Other people can be their best if they're sefardi.

It's like asking: "What is the best diet for all of mankind?" The best type of diet depends on each individual person. People are different.

Some people are so different that their diets are radically different.

So whatever it is that you choose, you should make it a principle in your life to always choose whatever it is that will give you the most success in life--and success in this world means preparing for the Next World.

For example, Rav Miller recalls the story of a man who kept saying, “Dunu dini—Judge my dispute.” Every time there was a dispute between him and another, he didn’t want arbitration; he wanted to go to a frum judge and hear the halacha.

They checked his lineage and discovered that, indeed, he was from the Tribe of Dan, a Tribe which always wants to follow the strict letter of the law.

Another man used to go around saying, “I love the sea, I rejoice in seeing it.”

And what did they discover?

He descended from Zevulun! Zevulun was a seafaring Tribe.

“They were sailors with boats and they loved the sea.”

In a Nutshell:

So all in all, you need to love other frum groups not just despite their differences, but BECAUSE of their differences.

As Rav Miller explains, the directive is found in Kohelet/Ecclesiastes 9:4:
"Mi asher yechaber el kol hachaim, yesh bitachon—whoever is still connected to all the living, then there's still hope."

What does this mean, "all the living"?

All the different types of frum Jews who are really living a Torah life (or at least trying to)!

If you do that, then there's definitely hope.

Rav Avigdor Miller on Parshat Beshalach: Learning to Love All Types of Jews
(All quotes used with permission.)

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Judaism's Secret: Achieve the Glorious Maximum by Doing the Bare Minimum

13/1/2019

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Something very special about our genuinely spiritually great Jews is their encouragement of baby steps: doing whatever you can within your abilities—even within very limited abilities.

Minimum Tefillah for Women

For example, Rav Chaim Kanievsky came out with the encouragement for women to daven 3 times a day: Shacharit, Mincha, and Maariv.

(His daughter, Rebbetzin Kolodetzky, calls this “speaking to Hashem in the language of the siddur.”)

But because Rav Kanievsky understands that many women have very busy, exhausting, and distracting lives, he reassured women that just looking at the words is 50% kavanah. Meaning, that just looking down at the page (even if your mind isn’t there) automatically snags you half of the obligatory kavanah according to all opinions in halacha. Any more you do as far as kavanah goes tips you over the halfway point.

Furthermore, even though davening a full Shacharit on your own can take at least a good 45 minutes, Rav Kanievsky insists that 25 minutes is enough. (Although it’s perfectly understandable that some women don’t even have that.) Then he offers 5 minutes for Mincha (just enough time for a VERY speedy Shemoneh Esrei), and 7 minutes for Maariv.

So yes, Rav Kanievsky made a request for women to increase their davening (when most poskim obligate women only 1 or 2 tefillot a day). But he pared it down to the bare minimum, so as to minimize the pressure.

10 Minutes Earlier

Rebbetzin Kanievsky promised miracles just for lighting Shabbat candles 10 minutes earlier.

TEN MINUTES! That’s it!

(It’s much harder than it sounds, by the way…but still very worth trying.)

The 1-Minute Hitbodedut

Likewise, Rav Shalom Arush encourages us to speak to Hashem in personal prayer in our own language, even 6 hours at a time. This is the ideal according to Breslov Chassidus. Rav Levi Yitzchak Bender also felt that people should engage in hitbodedut as much as possible—hours & hours every day, if possible. They got this from Rebbe Nachman. Yet the standard offered was…ONE hour only. And Rav Arush splits it up into 20 minutes of gratitude, 20 minutes of confession, and 20 minutes of requests.

However, the Breslov yeshivah katanah (for teenage boys) told its students to engage in 1 MINUTE of hitbodedut each day.

One minute!

Demanding more of a person can discourage them from doing it at all.

Furthermore, I knew of a very down & long-suffering person for whom Rav Arush recommended write a daily list of 20 things for which this person is grateful—and include as one of the items something this person lacks yet desires very much. At least once a day, this person must thank Hashem for that painful nisayon. And hopefully, Hashem will fulfill the wish and end the nisayon.

Now, how long does it take to write down 20 things?

Please note: He didn’t tell this person to do any hitbodedut. Without even knowing the person, Rav Arush realized that it would be too much. So instead, he advised this person to make a list that could be accomplished within 1 or 2 minutes.

People from all different backgrounds and hashkafot, from Rabbi Zecharia Wallerstein to Rav Ofer Erez, have been encouraging people to make a daily gratitude list of 10 things to 100 things. Ten things!

How long does that take? How easy is that?

(Yet even with that, let me tell you that there is a strong yetzer hara against it...)

10 Steps to Greatness

One of Rav Avigdor’s more famous innovations is his list of 10 Steps to Greatness from Tape #706.

(And not only did he pare it all down to 10 steps that demand mere minutes or seconds, but he recommends trying it for 30 days and then taking a break, if necessary—and then come back slowly.)

The last step is to sit on the floor for 1 second & ponder the loss of Yerushalayim.

One second!

Every day. Or whenever you remember.

Also, you should try daily to do one act of chessed that nobody knows about.

Every day, offer an encouraging word to one person.

Also, once a day, say to Hashem, “I love You.”

In another dvar Torah, Rav Miller suggested you say the following to your friend while walking down the street: “Let’s make a project that from this lamppost to the next lamppost, we’ll only think of HaKadosh Baruch Hu.”

If you’re alone, Rav Miller encourages you to say to yourself:

“I can think about Hakadosh Baruch Hu from this street to the next street—it 's only twenty paces in between—so that means I was alone with Hashem for a little bit.”

And at the end you relax.

“Ah, I did it. I made it. For twenty paces I thought about Hakadosh Baruch Hu.”

( from Shemot 2: A Life Apart)

Why are the very people who do so much more avodat Hashem than most of us can imagine doing advising us to start out so small?

1) Instant Self-Transformation

First of all, the first step in the right direction shuts down the yetzer hara and automatically changes our self-image.

For example, if you spend 20 paces determinedly thinking about Hashem, you go from someone who either only thinks you think about Hashem to someone who actually thinks about Hashem; or you go from someone who thinks “this isn’t for our generation” or “I’m not on that level” or “that’s only for truly great people” to someone who suddenly is on that level and is that type of person.

You kept passing by that open door...

...but now you finally took a step into that new & better world.

Fantastic!

2) You Actually Do It

Second, by cutting down everything to bite-sized pieces, it encourages people to actually do it.

Even a discouraged person, a lazy person, a busy person, or a totally nonspiritual person can sit on his or her bedroom floor for 1 second and say, “I’m so sorry about the destruction of Yerushalayim, Hashem.”

You can make yourself feel sorrow over the destruction for 1 second.

Even if you’re depressed, nonspiritual, completely stressed out, or distracted, you can still mouth the words, “I love You, Hashem.”

And even the most attention-seeking narcissist can force him or herself to do one act of chessed without telling anyone—even something small, like throwing away the used coffee cups at work or or dropping a coin in a tzedakah box or parking one’s car farther away from the store entrance (thereby freeing up the closer spaces for other drivers).

So people end up doing powerful things they would never do otherwise.

3) When One Turns into One Thousand

Finally, the accumulative effect is tremendously more powerful than we realize.

Truly great people understand the transformative power of any mitzvah.

Many of us are already familiar with the Vilna Gaon’s insistence that for every word of lashon hara NOT expressed (whether via speech or facial expression), we create a light so great that even the highest angels cannot imagine it.

But such powerful behind-the-scenes effects occur with all spiritual efforts.

Truly great people understand the power of 1 second of mourning for the Beit Hamikdash.

Truly great people understand the power of saying “I love You, Hashem.”

Truly great people understand the power of focusing your entire mind on Hashem from one lamppost to another.

It’s really only the more ignorant or spiritually small people who say, “One second doesn’t matter. One utterance doesn’t matter. If you daven a Mincha in a flash with no conscious kavanah, then it doesn’t matter.”

It DOES matter.

It matters A LOT.

And because of this bare minimum, you can have 1000 Jews mourning the Temple who wouldn’t have otherwise (outside of Tisha B’Av).

That’s 16 minutes of mourning on a regular day.

Over time, this 1 second spread out among many people adds up to hours of powerful mourning.

And how many people have now said, “I love You, Hashem” simply because Rav Miller suggested it in such an easy and approachable manner?

Over the years, even if each person who heard this suggestion only said it once, how much is that?

And likely, many people decided to say it several times—maybe daily or weekly or even just yearly.

Regardless, that’s tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands (or maybe even a million?) of expressions of love to Hashem.

That certainly sweetens dinim & brings bracha!

Those fleeting acts, those tiny seconds and passing minutes…

It really truly is the small things that count.

We just need to do them.

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Some Heart-Warming & Mind-Boggling Words from Rabbeinu Bachya

9/1/2019

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Sometimes, I've got so much to write about that everything bottlenecks & I end up not writing anything at all.

So I'll start clearing up the bottleneck with something short yet powerful.

In Parshat Bo (Shemot 13:2), Rabbeinu Bachya says the following:

And therefore, we find that the Navi [Yeshayahu] likened the Love of the Holy One Blessed Be He for Yisrael to the love of the mother for the child.

As it says (Yeshayahu/Isaiah 49): "Shall a woman forget her suckling child, compassion on the son of her belly?"

And it doesn't say "Shall a father forget his son?"

And my teacher and rebbi, Shlomo of blessed memory [the Rashba], explained that this text which says "Shall a woman forget her suckling child?" comes to inform us of 2 things:

1) One is that there should be no doubt for Am Yisrael that they are the children of the Living God just as there should be no doubt for Reuven that he is the son of his mother...

2) ...And the second is that just as it's impossible for a mother to exchange her child for another, so it is impossible to exchange Yisrael for another nation.

Hashem is with us all the way.

Let's delve into the analogy of Hashem to a nursing mother.

A nursing mother literally cannot forget her suckling child, not only because of her natural love and concern for him, but also because her own body reminds her that her child needs to be fed. In fact, her body actually demands that she feed her child. ("More than the calf wants to suckle, the cow wants to nurse" - Pesachim 112a.)

It implies that not only does Hashem possess a Primal Need to nurture us, but that His Need to nurture us is stronger that our need to receive sustenance from Him -- which is an astounding statement because technically, Hashem has no needs!

But obviously, Hashem sent this nevuah to Yeshayahu so that we would understand in our own terms Hashem's Great Attachment to us.

It's mind-boggling, if you think it over. In fact, I can't quite get my brain around the concept.

But in short: God not only loves us, but He would never & will never give us up or exchange us NO MATTER WHAT.

And that's a pretty amazing thing.

Thanks, Hashem!

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UPDATED: Stripping Off Society's Big Cover-Up about Marriage & Motherhood

1/1/2019

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UPDATE:
Either Weebly or my filter is not letting me comment on my own post (on other posts -- yes; on this one -- no), so I can't respond in the comment section. But all the comments so far are very inspiring and written from the heart (and much appreciated!).

This wasn't in the post, but based on the comments, I feel it's important to add that while getting pregnant later in life is often more difficult (as mentioned in the post), it's far from impossible. Two commenters had children from age 37 and onward. I've personally known women who got pregnant for the first time at age 39 and another at age 45 shortly after her first marriage -- no fertility treatments or even herbs, and no long wait!

So if this is your situation, please don't despair! And I wish all of you much bracha and hatzlacha.

(And thank you to all the commenters for sharing their stories & giving chizuk.)

Growing up in secular America, I always saw marriage & family portrayed as the end of one’s life.

My orthodontist cheerfully informed me that she waited until around age 37 to start a family. "I wanted to wait until I wouldn't feel resentful about not being able to go out to dinner," she said with a warm smile.

As if your own child isn't worth missing a couple of hours in a restaurant in the evening.

As if you can never go out to dinner again...

I secretly wanted marriage and children instead of a career (though I wanted to be a novelist on the side too), but couldn’t admit this—not even to myself.

You were supposed to push off marriage and children for as long as possible. Education, career, travel, living one’s dreams, sowing wild oats, and all that took precedence.

Marriage and children came only when you had lived your life and were either finished with everything else or were just sick of it.

Sadly, this has led a great many women into the dilemma of being at the height of her career just as her biological clock starts running out of time. Now she’s supposed to find a husband--or if she already has a husband, start trying to get pregnant and then deal with pregnancy and juggle a baby when her career is going full-force.

Furthermore, many women discover that it’s not as easy to get pregnant at 38 as it would have been at 22.

And while frum women continue to have children throughout their fertile years, a non-Jewish journalist pointed out that for other Western women who anyway only plan on 1-3 children, it makes more sense to build your family when you’re on the upside of fertility, when you’re young and can deal with sleepless nights (she makes the point that college students often throw themselves into all-nighters: study sessions, parties, discussions & heart-to-heart talks, etc), and are still at the beginning of their career.

Yes, building a career (if a woman wants) goes more slowly with young children, but it’s better to do things that way and hit your momentum when they are relatively self-sufficient teenagers rather than hit your momentum—and then need to slow down or stop to deal with birth, recovery, and a child who will be very dependent on you for the next few years.

The Best Feeling Ever

When I had my first child at the age of 24, one of my initial feelings—in addition to (and actually because of) new-baby ecstasy—was betrayal.

Not only did I realize I’d been lied to my whole life, but that I’d been lied to very badly.

And I felt so betrayed.

Having a baby was one of the best things to ever happen to me.

I felt so lucky and grateful. I felt like my baby was a treasure and that I somehow merited the great fortune of this special treasure being given to me.

Also, I felt a love that I’d never felt before.

But before I continue, it bears noting that every situation is different. Some people get the baby blues after birth, some people face emergencies, tragedies, or colicky babies, and some people don’t feel joy but feel heavy (albeit not unpleasant) responsibility instead. Varying amounts of anxiety are often part of the post-partum recovery too.

And that’s all in the realm of normal and nothing to feel guilty or defective about. If you do feel tremendous joy after birth, it’s a big chessed from Hashem and something for which to be grateful.

And I also faced difficulties. Just as 2 examples: The healing episiotomy hurt and was a nuisance to care for. The nursing went pretty badly and was excruciatingly painful for an entire month (despite following all the expert nursing advice), and it continued to be an unexpectedly stress-filled hassle until I got pregnant with the next child around 8 or 9 months later. Phew!

And despite the ups and downs of parenthood, the times when I wanted to run away, and the times when I feel like a big failure as a mother, I always feel like me kids are the best thing I’ve ever done in life. (And I didn’t even do it—it was Hashem! But still.)

But I was deeply in love with the baby himself. And that kind of love is a very pure love to experience because it’s so strong, intense, joyful—and selfless. A baby only takes and can’t give anything back (except smiles—but only after a few weeks). So you’re just rejoicing in the free gift of his very existence—pretty heady stuff.

And I had no idea I would feel that way until I did.

The Truth about Marriage & Motherhood

And I was just like, “Why, oh why did everyone always make this out to be so awful? Why is it considered so miserable and limiting that it needs to be pushed off until you’ve fully ‘lived life’ first?”

Why is the emphasis always on the hardships of motherhood and not the fulfillment or the rewards?

I felt like I’d only started living life with his birth! I realized that I didn’t have a life before I had my kids.

And I felt regret that I hadn’t gotten married and pregnant right out of high school instead of wasting my time. (It would’ve been kinder for my husband too, instead of him suffering through shidduchim until I finally got my act together.)

Yet when I told someone, “If only I’d known how great this would be, I’d have done this much earlier!”, she laughed and said, “But were you ready before now?”

“Well, no,” I said.

“That’s what everyone says,” she told me. “They all wish they’d done this earlier, but admit they weren’t ready before.”

She’s right—but she’s also wrong.

Her comment got me thinking…why wasn’t I ready until I married at 23?

Well, I needed to become frum first and to get myself solidly into the Torah life. But other than that?

An informal survey showed me that I wasn’t alone in feeling that any major inner growth came because of marriage and children, and not a result of work prior to marriage and children.

Many women feel that the experience of dealing with marriage and children increased their emotional maturity—maturity and inner growth that couldn’t come any other way.

Needless to say, marriage and children don’t guarantee peak emotional maturity. There are many immature and irresponsible parents walking around. Furthermore, some people are so dysfunctional, they really shouldn’t get married or have children yet because they simply will not be able to rise to the occasion.

The point is that whatever level of emotional maturity you found yourself on before you married and procreated, that level rises after marriage and procreation. Usually. Most people are better people after marriage and children—even if they feel like they’re not.

This is because even during parenthood’s most stressful, miserable, and despairing times, you’re still doing something meaningful.

You’re rectifying profound soul issues and changing the world.

You can’t say that about partying, making money, climbing the corporate ladder, performing, falling into yet another meaningless relationship with no future, drinking, touring Paris, or lying on the beach with the latest bestseller.

Nurturing Different Facets of Self

Also, mothers manage to nurture other facets of their personalities. Just in the frum community, there’s a wealth of shiurim and classes for dance, drama, art, music, sewing, fruit-carving, cake-decorating, pastry-making, healthy meals, and much more. (The variety depends where you live.)

Taking courses either online or a couple of times a week at available hours gives mothers degrees and skills for paying jobs.

It’s more of a juggle when you have kids, but it’s definitely doable—at least to a certain extent. And many if not most mothers participate in activities outside the domestic sphere, so it's obviously a realistic thing.

The Other Big Lie

The other big lie—and it’s a lie by omission—is that you can't push things off until later in life.

When is that option ever offered?

You CAN push things off until later in life. And it’s okay to do that.

Just like secular society encourages people to push off marriage and children until later in life, you can do that with other things too.

For example, I know so many women who made a career change, starting in their late forties. Their kids were older or out of the house and they started taking courses toward a new degree. Then they phased out their old career to start the new one around fifty.

What’s wrong with that?

NOTHING.

As a personal example, there are certain activities and classes I’d like to indulge in, but I don’t have the time or extra money right now. And that’s perfectly fine! I’m not tortured by their absence right now and it gives me something to look forward to in my fifties and sixties. Why not?

What is the big pressure to do everything (except child-bearing) before you’re 40?

It’s not a coincidence that youth-and-hedonism-worshiping Hollywood pushes this whole deception. Those degenerates portray the world as they honestly see it.

But it’s a big tragedy that so many people fall into it.

Related posts:
Breaking Out of the Big Lie about Motherhood

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Will the Real Role Model Please Stand Up?

18/12/2018

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"Packaging" is part of the reason why it can sometimes be so hard to differentiate between aspects of society that are good and helpful & those that are actually bland or even harmful.

We know that Chazal compares Esav to the pig who looks all good and kosher on the outside with his cloven hoof, but is actually completely treif and non-cud-chewing on the inside.

Esav is Edom. And one manifestation of Edom is North America today.

The Inspiring Degenerate

Take inspirational or motivational videos, speeches, and stories, for example.

They’re usually very well produced and presented. The writer or speaker is often passionate and convincing. They can be interesting and fill you with pleasurable feelings.

On the other hand, I’ve never heard of anyone who actually did anything with the motivation and inspiration from these videos. (That's part of the Esavite false-front: You've got tons of motivational videos that don't seem to actually motivate anyone.)

Furthermore, I think some people feel discouraged after hearing about someone else’s awe-inspiring success story.

One problem with them is the falsehood innate in many of them.

For example, I remember the disgust I felt when reading the story of a brilliant academic who’d overcome paranoid schizophrenia (with the help and support of a lot of people).

If you use Torah values as your yardstick, this guy was an awful jerk lacking in basic empathy. He had a sadistic streak too, if you judge him by a childhood event in which this young genius created an electric chair and then tried to convince his very sweet sister to sit in it so he could test it out.

He used women, cheated on his wives, abandoned a son who desperately wanted a relationship with him, and so on.

I didn’t find it to be such a tragedy that he thought aliens were recruiting him to save the world in light of the bigger tragedy of his appalling lack of morals.

When he was finally cured (mostly) of being a nutter, he went right back to being the same awful despicable jerk he was before. I couldn’t believe it! After all that, what about some gratitude and appreciation? Or teshuvah?

Nope.

Yet millions of people consider this an inspiring success story.

Why? Because he’s intellectually brilliant—something Hashem doesn’t care about unless it's accompanied by morality.

But we now live in a society which places such things on a pedestal and convinces everyone to enthuse over it.

The Overblown Overnight Success

Sometimes we’re presented with a story of overnight success. But that “overnight” success was actually years in the making and pocked with setbacks.

Or we’re presented with a simplistic, seemingly miraculous story whose background is kept hidden so as not to stunt the “WOW!” factor—like a girl wins a massive singing competition and her only experience is singing in her room and dabbling in song composition while sitting on her bed.

But then you discover that she’d been taking singing lessons & song composition lessons prior and she’d performed several times in public, plus created and uploaded her own videos. So she actually came to the competition with experience and training—and not straight from her bedroom as presented.

Is such a person talented? Yes, definitely.

But not miraculously talented as portrayed.

The Greek Champion

Other stories and videos of inspiration feature an athlete who grew up in a bad neighborhood and rather than turning to drugs and gangs, he focused on running really fast across a large area with an egg-shaped ball.

Now, I’m glad he avoided indulging in drugs and crime. But so many professional football and basketball players lead dissolute lives off the field. Many (if not most) are debauched and their treatment of others leaves a lot to be desired.

So why are these types so admired and held up as the ideal? Because they fulfill a certain athletic ideal of strength and prowess. Also, they make tons of money.

However, if he’d grown up to be a faithful husband & father with a stable job, then that would be an impressive and inspiring accomplishment for someone from his background.

In fact, that would actually be a LOT MORE than playing ball with a bunch of other overpaid ball-runners.

Accomplishment: The Hidden & The Revealed

Why are primarily superstars held up as the ideal?

There is a book (The Resilient Self: How Survivors of Troubled Families Rise Above Adversity) that idealizes people who grew up in very dysfunctional circumstances and later become normal decent people (as opposed to becoming society's superstars), but it’s an exception.

For a time, I felt that nearly every frum story of overcoming difficulties ended with the person forming an organization to help others. Needless to say, if you can do this, this is VERY good.

But what if you can’t? What if the very thought of starting and running a national or international organization makes you go numb from all the complexities of carrying out that task?

Yes, I think the extreme stories in the frum world are very important. I like to read them too. And as far as the organizations and grand accomplishments go, well, I’ve certainly benefited from them and am personally grateful for those who created them.

My point isn't to bash it—on the contrary, they're very necessary! But it’s not something that every single person can do—nor should it be the measure of personal accomplishment and teshuvah.

People need to know that if you can transform yourself from a dismal person into a decent person, then that is amazing and very precious in Hashem’s Eyes—even if you don’t end up running an entire organization or becoming famous for it.

I once knew a young woman who grew up in nightmarish circumstances. The explosive fights between her parents and their wild acts of revenge against each other broke all boundaries and made the home a frightening place. And this was a daily life!

But her parents’ feral behavior caused her to consider the source: a lack of vatranut (giving in). So she decided to become a vatran. She wasn’t a pushover at all because her vatranut emanated from a place of strength and not spinelessness. And looking for a more moral life and a system which also valued vatranut led her to Torah Judaism.

Seeing her, you’d never guess that such a nice sweet sensible person was raised in such a savage environment.

Her middot are such an amazing accomplishment on their own—even though, to my knowledge, she’s never done anything socially outstanding.

"Hashem Loves Fat, Short People"

I think this was one of the secrets to Rav Avigdor Miller’s success: He put the average unnoticeable Jew on a pedestal. He noticed them!

The harried-looking frum mother of many children considered pathetic and unattractive in secular society was declared “the most beautiful sight one can imagine” by Rav Miller in his lecture on Parshat Vayetzei. He further exhorted that "there is nothing more beautiful and more perfect than the mothers of our people. That’s the genuine beauty!"

He takes the image of another regular frum woman seemingly not doing anything special, and presents her in the loftiest light:

Here’s a place, let’s say a waiting room, and everybody is dressed in denim. They have no backbone, so since the high school bums wear blue overalls, so the adults also, they have no backbone so they yield to the environment.

An elderly man is sitting in the waiting room wearing blue denim!...Ragged artificial patches, splotches on it as if someone poured ink on it or something.

And he mentions the lack of modesty among these people as well.

But then we spot...The Frum Lady:

And here is one woman, she's covered up; her hair is covered up. It's hot, she has sleeves down to her knuckles, she has a long dress, and she is proud, she's not self-conscious.

That woman is the eishes chayil! That's the strength that Hashem cares about.

She's a lion, standing tall and proud in the jungle of naked pygmies!

The people like this woman are the ones carrying aloft the banner of our pride!

(Parshas Vayachei: The Fearful Moment—used with permission)

Do you see what Rav Miller did there?

He took that whole cultural ideal of being cool and youthful and turned it on its head by labeling it as a sign of having “no backbone” and yielding to “bums.”

All of the sudden, the exalted secular society is disdained as a jungle of uncivilly dressed pygmies—and this anonymous average frum lady is the pinnacle of civilization.

Just as a side note, I remember how much I liked acid-washed denim as a teenager and I enjoyed Rav Miller’s description of it as “splotches on it as if someone poured ink on it or something.” Yep! Too bad I didn't realize that then...

And what about the short, fat Jew waddling down the street? Also beautiful!

Here's Rav Miller again:

You see your husband, a fat, old fellow, waddling in the street, short and fat, you have to say, “I love that man.”… Hashem loves fat, short people.

If they are Jews, shomrei Torah, He loves them intensely, He loves them more than anything in the world.

(This is mentioned in a couple of lectures, one of them being The 10 Commandments of Marriage.)

Of course "fat" isn't a good thing; we shouldn’t give into food taavos and overeat—Rav Miller warns against that too.

But he means that the imperfect frum Jew who is either unnoticed or even despised by his non-frum brothers and many non-Jews—that very Jew is greatly loved by the Creator of the Universe...simply because he’s doing his best to keep halacha.

And because of Rav Miller’s insistence on their gorgeousness, we start to love these Jews too.

And because most of us are regular, imperfect Jews who keep the Torah—even if we’re awkward or messy about it at times—we realize that we are also the kind of Jew Rav Miller declares to be intensely lovable and stunningly beautiful.

And that’s the truth.

Related posts:
The Stunning Greatness of a Regular Jew: Gitty
The Stunning Greatness of a Regular Jew: Leah
The Overlooked Prophetess: Chana
Why a Leah Imeinu Can't (and Shouldn't) be a Sara Imeinu
2 Examples of Unforeseeable Personality Transformation

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Update on Ahava Lange

13/11/2018

2 Comments

Ahava Lange is a vibrant frum wife & mother who has been suffering from life-threatening illness for a very long time.

Her doctors in America and Eretz Yisrael basically gave her a death sentence 2 months ago and she wasn't sure she'd live to see the bar mitzvah of their only son.

Happily, Hashem brought her to life extension in an unexpected place: Istanbul, Turkey.

Incredibly, the treatments have been working, but she is still in poor physical condition and must continue flying to Turkey for the treatments.

(I can only imagine how agonizing it must be to constantly travel in such a state.)

The treatments themselves are also pretty grueling.

You can read more about the latest part of her journey here:
A Letter to You

If you can, please consider donating here:
www.gofundme.com/ahava-emunah-lange-cancer-treatment

(Other payment options are offered there if you don't want to donate via gofundme or you'd like to make it tax deductible.)

Please continue to pray that Ahava Emunah bat Chava Ehta merit a complete and speedy recovery of the nefesh and the body along with all the other Jews suffering from illness.

(H/T to Kala for bringing this important update to attention.)

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Stay Out of It

What If He isn't the Rav You Think He is?

Getting Down to the Nitty-Gritty

Elegance with Chessed & Simple Living

Matchmaker, Couples Counselor, Caterer...

A One-Woman Gemach

The Hidden Underground of Jerusalem

Removing My Rose-Colored Glasses

The Secret to Real Chessed: Humility

Nurturing Runaway Girls

The Making of a Baalat Chessed

Achieving Spiritual Perfection in an Imperfect Life

Focusing on Spiritual Beauty

Some Nice Stories

Serving in Hashem's Army

Learning from Everyone

Practical Tips to Get Started

Which Path is Right for YOU?

In a Nutshell:

Minimum Tefillah for Women

10 Minutes Earlier

The 1-Minute Hitbodedut

10 Steps to Greatness

1) Instant Self-Transformation

2) You Actually Do It

3) When One Turns into One Thousand

The Best Feeling Ever

The Truth about Marriage & Motherhood

Nurturing Different Facets of Self

The Other Big Lie

The Inspiring Degenerate

The Overblown Overnight Success

The Greek Champion

Accomplishment: The Hidden & The Revealed

"Hashem Loves Fat, Short People"

Myrtle Rising

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