There is a custom to blow the Shofar every day during the month of Elul as we lead up to Rosh Hashanah. Most people blow four sounds from the Shofar known as Ta’shrat, which stands for: Te’kiah – Sh’vorim –Te’ruah – Te’kiah. I follow the Chabbad custom of blowing ten sounds: Ta’shrat – Ta’shat – Ta’rat (these are abbreviated terms).

Either way, the important thing is that we blow the Shofar to remind ourselves that Rosh Hashanah is coming and it’s time for some serious introspection. The sound of the shofar is a wakeup call. It’s for ourselves to hear and for others who may be around listening.

Rachel and I spent two weeks in Fiji on our way to Australia. I don’t think much shofar blowing has been done in Fiji and it was special to blow shofar around the country as we traveled from island to island.

Rosh Hashanah is this coming Wednesday night, making Thursday and Friday festival days. Hearing the shofar is a great mitzvah and does a lot for the neshamah (the soul) even if it sounds just like noise to the mind. Everyone should try and get to a shul to hear the shofar at least for the first 30 blasts at the beginning.

Shanah Tova.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VA5DrGzBW6s&w=420&h=315]

The Fijian village where I spent several days learning about their culture - and explaining my own.

I just came back from spending several days in a remote Fijian village.  I know, I should have been spending my time relaxing on the beach by our resort, but I couldn’t help myself – I wanted to see how the locals really live.  So I hopped on a local transport (buses don’t run there) and went as far into the interior of Viti Levu as I could get without walking (and there are still villages you can only access by walking quite far).

One of the most interesting things about our visit to Fiji was the reception we got as Jews there.  Most people actually said they were honored to meet us – members of the “chosen people!”  “I have only read about the Jews in the Bible,” said Mario, head of my village host family, “but here I see one before my face!”  The people I met were overwhelmingly excited to hear about Jewish life and culture, and just plain to meet someone from a culture and religion they had heretofore placed only in the realm of legend.

Mealtimes in the village, even breakfasts, were huge affairs with many people in attendance. These gatherings were not just about eating, but were also about story-telling - and the stories they wanted to hear were from me! They wanted to learn about the Jews.

Mealtimes in the Fijian village were an affair.  Even breakfast was a big ordeal with people coming from homes all around and converging on one house to share food and stories.  Doors and windows are always open and if someone walks by outside, the residents within will shout to that person to come and join them – and often they will!  So when I sat down and joined them, they were all very excited and began to ask me dozens of questions.  What was interesting was their reaction when I told them of the Jews’ history: being exiled from the land of Israel, then chased out of many countries on pain of death.  “But why?” they asked me. “Why would they want to kick out the Jews? Fiji has never done this!” Why indeed…

To be asked this question in the last few days by these native Fijians shocked me to my core.  How apropos!  In fact, in this week’s parsha it says, “And all the nations will say, ‘For what reason did Hashem do so to this Land; why this wrathfulness of great anger?’ And they will say, ‘Because they forsook the covenant of Hashem, the G-d of their forefathers…’”  This is exactly the answer I had to give the Fijians.  The Jews have not followed completely the word of G-d, the law of G-d, and therefore have been punished mightily.

It’s easy for us to look around and find others doing aveiros (sins), violating the laws of the Torah.  It’s easy to look at someone who is not as religious and say, “That person does not make a blessing before eating bread!”  It’s easy to look at someone who is religious and to find their fault, to say, “That person wears a hat and a beard but he uses curse words!”  But what’s not easy is to look at ourselves and realize that we are as guilty – or, truthfully, more guilty – as any other person.  We all violate the laws of the Torah, every day.  We are fallible, we are human, we make mistakes. This is why so many people in the world still hate us and chase us out. This is why we continue to eagerly await moshiach.  Not because of him, or her, but because of me.

Now is the time to do teshuva (repentence).  With Rosh Hashana coming up, it’s an important wake-up call for us.  In just a few days, we will be inscribed in the book of life… or death.  Just days after that, the judgement will be sealed, and we cannot change it.  Now is the time to return to G-d, to accept our faults and recognize them so that we can admit them to Him and so that we can make a commitment to doing better in the future.  We shouldn’t have to have the nations of the world asking us these questions in order to ask them ourselves.  We should be doing it every day, and especially now.  This Shabbat, let’s try introspecting and looking inward at ourselves, in preparation for the days of holiness ahead.

Shabbat shalom!

Rabbi Ben surprised me with a trip to Fiji to celebrate our anniversary!  Of course the Traveling Rabbi would think of the gift of travel – and I am definitely not complaining! It is beautiful here!

So far we haven’t found any Jews, although I have heard that there are a handful of people of Jewish descent living in the capital city of Suva, which we have not visited.

We spent Shabbat on the island of Mana in the Manaluca Islands group.  These photos show the beautiful Shabbat candles I lit, with some Fijian flair.  Even our candles look like they’re in paradise!

To prepare for Shabbat, we brought some small challah rolls with us from the plane and I went fishing on Thursday and caught us some fresh local fish.  For lunch on Saturday we just had some eggs that were boiled on Friday afternoon, some salad, and some bread.  It was simple, but we were able to sit and watch the calm waves of the Pacific Ocean lap at the shore as we ate, which made everything so beautiful!

It was truly a very special Shabbat!

Lately, I have become very attached to the earth.  I’ve become more connected to the ground, to life, to growing things.  I’ve always been drawn to animals, but lately I’m being drawn more to plants.  This connection probably has a lot to do with where I’ve been over the summer months.  First in Eden Village Camp, then visiting our good friend Farmer Ben, then in Baltimore with Rabbi Ben’s friends who grow their own produce, and also to Kayam Farms.  We have been in a lot of places that focus on growing.

But it’s not just that.  My interest in growing things also stems from my having become a vegetarian some 8 or so years ago, which made me look at vegetables and fruits in a different way.  And also from my involvement a few years ago in a CSA (community supported agriculture) program that allowed me to buy a share in a local farm.  Maybe my interest really reaches as far back as our childhood trips blueberry and strawberry picking.  Who knows? What it comes down to is that slowly, slowly, my fascination and joy with growing vegetables and fruits has… grown!

So in reading this week’s parsha I am immediately struck by the mitzvah (commandment) of bikkurim, or the first fruits.  When a farmer goes out and sees the first fruits growing on his trees and in his fields, he consecrates them to the Kohanim (the priests), who serve G-d full-time.

At first glance, this seems kind of neutral.  I mean, we already have to tithe our produce and let the land lie fallow once every seven years.  So the concept of “giving up” for G-d is nothing new.  But there’s just something about those first fruits…

I remember once when I grew some tomatoes in the back yard.  When the first ones appeared, I was incredibly excited and couldn’t wait to taste them.  My hard work and patience had paid off!  I didn’t want to share that first bite with anyone.  It was so precious and so lovely because it was the first.

This sentiment that I felt as a teenager provides a clue to one of the meanings behind this law of bikkurim.  Not only do we have to give up for G-d, but we also have to be willing to give up the very first, the very best, the most precious that we have.  We have to be willing to give up even that which is near and dear to us for our love of G-d.

And, really, G-d isn’t asking too much.  He’s not asking us to sacrifice our children or to deprive ourselves of all worldly pleasures.  He’s asking us to be willing to give up the first and best of what our hands can produce, in His service.  After all, He is the one that gives us all our “fruits” in the first place!

So although the mitzvah of the first fruit technically only applies in Israel and technically only applies to the seven species, we don’t need to limit it to that when it comes to a deeper meaning.  We can use any skill or talent or possession we’ve worked hard to acquire to serve Him first, before anything else.  In this way, we will remember Him and recognize that without G-d, we would not have that skill/talent/possession at all, no matter how hard we try.  As a doctor, you can provide free check-ups to Jewish children from poor families.  As a juggler, you can entertain at a wedding.  And with your new car, you can deliver food to poor Jewish families or give a lift to a friend in need.

As we enter the coming week, let us remember: one of the most beautiful things about the mitzvah of the first fruits is that it has no limit.  We can tie a string to designate just one fruit, or we can tie many.  Let’s set our sights high as we approach Rosh Hashana and the start of a new year, and strive to donate as much of our very best, our “first and foremost” as we can, in the service of Hashem!

Shabbat Shalom!

We met in Lima, Peru.  It’s the kind of meeting that could not have happened without G-d’s direct involvement.  There’s just no other way to explain it!

I was studying in Buenos Aires, Argentina and had two weeks of vacation between my summer internship and the start of school, so I decided to spend one in the Amazon rainforest in Ecuador and one in Peru, visiting Machu Picchu.  I happened to know the Chabad Lima shaliach’s daughter and so decided to stop there for Shabbos in between the two other legs of my trip.  If it hadn’t been for that friendly connection, I might never have shown up there.

Meanwhile, Rabbi Ben was one year into his initial four-year round-the-world travel plan. He stopped in Lima, planning to spend just a couple of days.  While he was there, though, he found the book Garden of Emunah by Rabbi Sholom Arush.  He decided to sit down and learn it, which took him a full three weeks.  At the end of that three weeks, I walked in.

Rabbi Ben was sitting at a computer and I thought he was an employee, so I began to speak to him in Spanish.

“I speak English,” he said dryly.  “And your accent is terrible!”

Rabbi Ben and I exploring Miraflores the first weekend we met, in Lima, Peru

I was insulted because I thought my accent was perfect, but when he announced that he wanted to split the cab fare and accompany me into the city, I accepted.  I am Jewish, after all!  During the whole cab ride, he made jokes about my degree in philosophy and I decided I had to find a way to get rid of him.  But although I kept disappearing into museums he didn’t want to enter, he patiently waited for me outside every one of them.  We also did other “romantic” things like to visit the Museum of the Inquisition.  In spite of all that, we actually ended up having a really great time together.

We didn’t see much of each other on Shabbat, but afterwards, we went to the open-air market at Miraflores, where we joked with local children.  When it was time for me to go back to my hotel, he walked me back and then had me add my contact information to his “address book,” which contained the contact information of every other person he’d met in his travels (I’m guessing it contained about 250,000 names).  I figured I’d never hear from him again, especially since he had a flight to Europe booked for later that week.

The second time we met, again in Lima, Peru, Rabbi Ben took me to see the Pacific Ocean for the first time in my life, and took me to the romantic Parque del Amor.

To my surprise, Rabbi Ben did email me, just a few days later, to tell me he canceled his flight and was still in Lima!  A friend of his had gotten engaged and Rabbi Ben was staying in the Americas for a while so he could attend the wedding.  Plus, the Chabad of Lima had offered him a chazzan position for the high holidays that he couldn’t refuse.  I happened to have the first flight into Lima that Thursday, and the last flight out, giving me an entire day free there. As a result, we were able to spend my last day in Peru walking together in Lima and getting to know each other.  Unfortunately, Rabbi Ben was still insistent on continuing with his round-the-world travel plan and I was not interested in waiting for him.  We parted ways and I thought I would never see him again.

For the next two-and-a-half years, we kept in touch sporadically via phone and email.  In December of 2009, Rabbi Ben was finally in the same time zone as me, so we were able to talk on the phone more.  It took me two months, but I finally managed to convince him to visit me in Miami, Florida, where his grandparents also happened to be at the time.  He found the perfect flight: one that got him into Miami in the morning, so he could have lunch with his grandparents, but flew out in the evening, just after having dinner with me.  Then he’d fulfill his longstanding promise to visit me, but instead of staying too long, he’d end up on the beaches on Puerto Rico.

But G-d had different plans.

Rabbi Ben had accumulated quite a few air miles over the years, so he always checked his statements meticulously.  However, this time, he had misread the date of their expiration.  He had mixed up the day and the month, reading it European style instead of American style, and as a result, he found his air miles expired.  He called the company to try to fix it and they told him the only way to do so was to take a flight of a certain distance within the next couple of weeks.  A flight to Miami was just what he needed.

Only divine providence can explain how, 3 years after first meeting in Lima, Peru, Rabbi Ben and I finally got engaged! Our l'chaim took place in Miami Beach, Florida, followed by our wedding in Jerusalem, Israel.

So he had to forego his planned “perfect” flight to Puerto Rico in favor of one that went just to Miami, but was on the right airline.  Late on a Tuesday night, as I was driving home from work, Rabbi Ben called me.  “I’m flying in tomorrow afternoon – can you pick me up at the airport?”

This was a huge surprise to me, since I hadn’t seriously expected him to come visit.  But I was happy to see him again, so I rolled with the punches.  He only planned to spend a couple of days visiting his grandparents before continuing on to Puerto Rico.  But he never made it to Puerto Rico.

Instead, after only a couple of months of dating and a Pesach trip to meet his family, we got engaged.  A few months later, we were married in Jerusalem, Israel, overlooking the Kotel.  And now our first year has passed… It’s amazing how time flies!

G-d had to work hard to get us together, across thousands of miles and several years, but in the end, everything happens in its proper time.  It is a true story of divine providence, as is every story of “how we met.”  But in our case, I think G-d had to work extra hard!