Parshas Lech Lecha: Far From Family

A friend’s husband recently left her for 10 days to travel on business, leaving her with their two young children.  Another friend’s husband left (also for business) for a couple of weeks, leaving her with a newborn.  And Rabbi Ben left me not long ago to spend nearly 3 weeks traveling in Papua New Guinea.

While it’s never easy to be left a single parent, there was a big difference between me and my two friends.  The first has her family here. When I saw her in Shul last Shabbos, she told me how one day, too exhausted to deal with dinner, she called up her mom and asked if she and the kids could crash there for a meal.  The other friend also lives far from her family… but she lives with her in-laws, who have plenty of grandchildren.  They’re always willing to help soothe a crying baby or to lend her a hand, even when their son isn’t around.  When Rabbi Ben left me, I was really on my own.  My parents and in-laws alike are halfway across the world and I can’t ask them for help when I’m tired or stressed or overdrawn.

It was really special when my parents were able to visit and spend some time with Akiva - It's hard living so far away!

Even without kids in the picture it’s hard to leave behind your home.  Whether it’s your family or your friends (who are, as they say, “the family you choose for yourself”), you leave important people behind.  I remember being in India, overwhelmed by the culture shock, and the only thing I wanted was to be able to talk to my family and friends and make some sense of things.  It is hard to leave your family behind.

So imagine how hard it must have been for Avraham (Abraham, then Avram) to leave behind his family.  Not only was he leaving them on a trip, but he was leaving them for good.  To make matters worse, his father, Terach, had been the local idol salesman… and he had just done teshuva and come around to Avram’s way of thinking and worshipping One G-d.  Avram knew that if he left his father, there was a strong likelihood he would go back to his old ways.  To think that someone you really love and care about is going to do something harmful to themselves (even spiritually) if you leave them, you would not want to leave them.

It is hard to be without family around you. It is hard to leave behind the people you love and care about.  It is even harder when you know those people rely on and are dependent on you.  But sometimes it is what you must do, for yourself.

Avram had to leave his family behind in order to become Avraham.  He had to grow spiritually and he could no longer do so in that space.  The challenge of being on his own made him grow spiritually.

So, too, when we strike out on our own and leave behind our support systems, we are forced to grow.  I cannot rely on my family for help with my baby when Rabbi Ben is away.  I have to find a way to manage on my own.  It makes me grow.

Although, of course, it is nice to have family around!  And if you do have your family around you this Shabbos, be grateful for it and thank them – tell them how much you appreciate them.  And if your family are far, call them or send them a message before Shabbos just to tell them you are thinking of them.

Shabbat Shalom!

Read more on Parshas Lech Lecha: The Journey Without, The Journey Within

Parshas Noach: Halacha of Traveling by Ship

Most of the time, Rabbi Ben and I travel by land or air.  For long distances, air is simply fastest. For short distances, overland travel is most economical.  But sometimes we do travel by water.  I love the water and really enjoy taking short jaunts on boats.  Most of the time, travel by water these days does not take as long as it once did. Our ships are faster and more stable.  But sometimes, like on cruises, or for sailors, trips by sea take much longer.

I’ve also taken a couple of cruises through the Caribbean, although cruises are not my personal favorite. (I get what I call “golden cage” syndrome – the ship is to me like a big, fancy prison – I just want to be off and exploring!)  Of course, Jews traveling on cruises have to take many factors into account.  You are allowed to go on a cruise that will be afloat over Shabbat, although you should not depart too close to Shabbat – make sure it leaves on a Sunday, Monday, or Tuesday.  Chazal, concerned about the possibility of seasickness, determined that it is inappropriate to leave within 3 days of Shabbat.  If your trip is traveling on Shabbat, make sure the ship is neither owned nor operated by Jews, and that it runs on fixed schedules, regardless of the number of passengers.

Of course, once you’re already on the cruise, you can disembark if the ship docks on Shabbat.  Just be careful – there won’t be any eruv, so you can’t carry. This applies even if you have some sort of ID badge!  So if you need ID to get back on the ship, best discuss it with the staff beforehand.  Don’t worry about going through metal detectors or the like – as long as you are wearing nothing that will set it off, it is fine to walk through them.  And since you won’t be carrying anything, you’ll have nothing to put through the X-ray machines! But while you’re off the ship, be careful not to walk too far – only about 7/10 of a mile is permitted.

While you’re on the ship, you might encounter many of the same challenges as if you are staying in a fancy hotel.  If your hotel uses electronic key cards, you will have to have staff open your door for you.  If doors are electronic, you will have to wait for a non-Jew to pass through and open them up.  If lighting candles is forbidden, you will have to light electronic ones (without a blessing!).

You should also plan a few things before you go. Make sure that kosher grape juice or wine and challah will be available – even if you have to bring it yourself.  Also, you should either explain to the ship that you want your Shabbos lunch served cold, or you should ask them to serve you a meal that contains no liquid that might be heated.   And make sure they know not to cook anything new on Shabbos! (If a non-Jew reheats a meal consisting only of solids on Shabbos without being asked, you can still eat it – but not if it includes liquids, sauces, or if it was cooked on Shabbos!) Make sure to also pack the essentials: a kiddush cup, candle(s) for havdallah, and a small sachet of besamim.

Even when it’s not Shabbat, you still have to take care on a cruise ship, especially with things like kashrus.  Make sure to order kosher meals in advance. It is easiest if you don’t go with a company that cannot order them for you.  Otherwise, you can always double-wrap some potatoes and veggies in foil and bake them, or maybe even get some fresh fish filleted for you.  It is best, however, to make sure you turn on the oven or place it in yourself. Other than that, you can always wash and check some veggies for yourself – if they’re cut with a clean, cold knife and aren’t sharp (like onion or radish) then they’re usually okay (although check with your rav depending on how strict you are!). If the ship has a “kosher” kitchen, inquire as to the divisions and the mashgiach situation – otherwise, it might not be reliable.

This week’s parsha features a really giant ship that was at sea for 40 consecutive days and nights.  Noach wasn’t bound by keeping the Torah, but it did get me thinking.  Noach did not sleep the entire time the ship was afloat!  He had to spend all of his time caring for the myriad animals aboard.  So I guess if you find Shabbat restrictions on a cruise ship challenging or tedious, just think about poor Noach, shoveling all that elephant poo!

Shabbat shalom!

Read more on Parshas Noach: Finding Good Role Models in Unusual Places

Parshas Bereishis: Packing Light

Carrying my pack around for hours, I wanted it as light as possible!

Sometimes people tell me there are things they just can’t envision living without that seem very strange to me.  For instance, one friend recently told me she couldn’t imagine traveling without her urn.  She simply MUST have hot tea on Shabbos!

But, as I explained to her, it’s not always a good idea to travel with a tea urn.  When backpacking in India, for instance, you have to carry everything on your back.  Trust me when I say that a tea urn, no matter how small and light, is going to be the first thing to go from your pack!  When I first set out on my travels I did not understand this, but after shlepping my pack around for a while I started to get rid of every spare ounce I could. I was happy when my shampoo was almost out – and unhappy when I had just got more. Every ounce counts!

This is true when we’re talking spiritual baggage, too.  Think about spiritual weight: Do a mitzvah and you can carry it around forever with it never getting heavy, but do an aveira and it’ll weigh on you.  And in an even more literal sense, our physical possessions have weight but our spiritual pursuits do not.  You can pray all day and it won’t weigh anything!  So when it comes to our lifetimes’ baggage it’s best to pack as lightly as possible – filling our “bags” with mitzvot instead of the more weighty alternatives.

This is especially true when we realize that we can’t take our physical possessions into the world to come, whereas we can bring our mitzvot along.  In this week’s parsha, we see what happens when we don’t focus our efforts in the right areas.  We encounter the classic story of Cain and Able.  Both brothers brought sacrifices to G-d but He preferred Able’s offering more.  Why? Because Able gave the very best of what he had to give.  Cain, on the other hand, gave inferior goods for his offering.  He wanted to keep the best for himself, so G-d rejected his offering.

Rabbi Ben carrying his pack in India

Cain was focused on the material, on the heavy goods in this world and in this life.  It’s a bit like traveling to a foreign land and buying a castle as your souvenir – you can’t actually take it home with you when you leave! Similarly, Cain couldn’t take his material possessions into the world to come, but he lost sight of that and focused on what he could get in the moment.

As we start off this new year, let’s all focus on packing as lightly as we can.  Let’s fill our bags with mitzvot and keep in mind that one day we will be “going home,” so to only pack those things we can easily take with us.

Shabbat shalom!

Read more on Parshas Bereishis: Every End is a New Beginning

Hoshana Raba: We Can All Be Kings

I’ve traveled all over the world, but I have never met a king.  Rabbi Ben has seen the queen and been able to make a bracha on seeing her, but I have not.  And anyhow, a king or queen today, in most countries at least, does not seem to have the power they once did.

I have seen castles and palaces all over the world.  Seeing the stunning buildings the leaders erected way back when is a testament to their power.  But they don’t have that power anymore and I have never even met a king.

Today is Hoshana Raba, and we have a tradition that ushpizin, spiritual guests, visit our sukkot each day of the holiday.  Today’s guest is David HaMelech, King David.  What can we learn from him as he is visiting us? We can learn how to be a king.

You see, David HaMelech was not the first king.  King Shaul came before him, but yet he does not visit our sukkot as an example of what it means to be a king.  What makes them different? What makes King David special?  And why is he visiting us on Hoshana Raba, specifically, they day when the books of judgment are put away, and the day on which our mayim, our material blessings for the next year, are judged?

Rabbi Moshe Hauer explains that two incidents illuminate the differences between King Shaul and King David, and also show exactly why King David is visiting us on Hoshana Raba.

King Shaul was commanded by Hashem to kill all of Amalek.  When Shmuel HaNavi, Shmuel the prophet, came to him and asked him about it, King Shaul’s first response was, “I did exactly what you told me to do!”  But he had been commanded to kill all of Amalek, including all the people and all the animals, and he hadn’t done that.  Shmuel called him out on it and said, “Oh really? Then what are all those sheep I hear?”  King Shaul knew he was caught, so he tried to pass the buck, saying, “Well, the people really wanted to keep the sheep to make sacrifices to HaShem (G-d)!”  Shmuel called him out on that, too, saying, “No, you are the king, not the people. The responsibility ultimately lies with you!”  And even then King Shaul was afraid to accept responsibility. “Okay, you’re right, I did it, but please Shmuel, will you walk with me before the people just as you always have?”  Shaul was afraid of the consequences of his actions even when he finally did take responsibility.

King David also sinned, when he took Bathsheva for his wife prematurely.  He sent her husband out to war so he would be killed and he could take Bathsheva for his own.  Now, King David knew that Bathsheva was his beshert, his soul mate, his divinely intended.  He knew that, but instead of waiting, he took her for himself early.  And when he was confronted with this sin, he said just one thing: “I sinned.”  He didn’t make excuses.  He didn’t say, “Well, I knew she was my beshert anyway!”  He didn’t try to pass the buck and blame Bathsheva.  He didn’t shrink away from the consequences of his actions. He said, very simply, “I sinned.”  And he asked HaShem to forgive him.  He did teshuva, repentance.  And his teshuva was accepted.

This is what true kingship is about and this is why King David, of all the kings of Israel, is the one to visit us on Hoshana Raba.  When G-d is just putting away the books that contain our fate for the upcoming year, He still hopes for us to repent at the last minute.  He still hopes we’ll beg Him to re-open the books and re-write our fate for the better.  And He wants to remind us all that we are the princes and princesses of Israel and we all have the potential to grow into ourselves, to become kings and queens through our sincere teshuva.

Wishing you all a chag sameach!

Parshas Haazinu: The Power of Music

Akiva doesn’t use a pacifier.  He just doesn’t like it, and I don’t blame him.  It doesn’t exactly have anything yummy coming from it like when he sucks on a bottle, so what’s the point?  But I know a lot of babies do like them.  A friend recently asked me how I get him to settle to sleep if I don’t give him a pacifier.  I told her I sing to him.

You see, Akiva loves music.  He loves it if Rabbi Ben sings, he loves it if there’s music playing anywhere, and he even loves it when I sing. (Well, there’s no accounting for taste!)  Music just speaks to him, as I think it does for most of us.

Which is exactly why the Torah ends with a song.  Music lifts and inspires us. Music can change our mood. It has the power to transcend, to lift our souls closer to G-d. G-d understood that even if we had trouble connecting with His Torah, we could, at least, connect to a song.  So He gave us a song, to end the Torah and to help bring us closer to Him.

As for Akiva, well, he’s already singing.  Because I sing to him, he has started to sing himself to sleep now.  Not only does it make it easy to put him to sleep, since I can just walk away and let him sing himself to sleep, but it’s also achingly cute.  Here, have a listen:

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“>Akiva Singing

Shabbat Shalom!

Read more about Parshas Haazinu: Past, Present, and Future Are All One

Yom Kippur: Facing Your Truth

Every year I look forward to Kol Nidre.   Not with the same joyful anticipation I feel when I look forward with smiles to the delicious holiday of Shavuot, the bright lights of Chanukkah, or the partying of Purim, but with bated breath nonetheless.

On Kol Nidre I go to shul and I hide as far in the back as I can.  I bury myself in my machzor and hide my face. I make sure to have a plentiful supply of tissues secreted up my sleeve.  And I let go.  And I cry.

I hate crying in public. It seems like such a weakness, like admitting to some sort of inner failure. In Western society it is perceived as not being the strong person you’re expected to be.  But on Yom Kippur, that’s not why I hide when I cry, but rather, for the opposite reason: I don’t want people to think my tears false, attention-seeking, or holier-than-thou. I want to be left alone to cry.  The chazan’s voice, now the voice of my beloved husband, never fails to transport me to a higher plane.  It is my time to cry – alone – with Hashem.

You see, Yom Kippur is the ultimate moment when we each must really and truly face ourselves.  It is our last chance before that great Book is sealed.  It is our last chance. Our last chance.

I usually fall behind in the davening.  It’s not because I am busy crying, as I explained above, but falling behind is, in part, the reason I’m crying.  Perhaps falling behind in the davening is symbolic of how I’m constantly falling behind in my service of Hashem. I have a hard time keeping up with what Hashem expects of me. I can’t fairly judge others but in fairness, I admit that I don’t always think I keep up with the crowd when it comes to serving Hashem.  But let’s be real – I’m not crying because I’ve fallen behind in the davening and I’m not thinking deeply about the symbolic meaning behind falling behind.

I’m falling behind in my davening and I’m crying for one and the same reason: I’m facing myself and I don’t like what I see.  I read each line in viduy and I see myself in it. I make a public confession and I mean every word of it. “We have robbed” – have I failed to say hello to someone who greeted me? Have I borrowed something and not returned it? “We have slandered” – have I listened to or spoken any gossip?  ”We have lied” – even by leading someone to make an erroneous assumption. “We have given evil counsel” – have I given bad advice? Have I somehow led someone astray? Have I offered justification for bad behavior? “We have scoffed” – have I looked at another person and thought myself better than them? Have I not just thought, but even spoken, those words?

And so on and so forth.

As I recite the Yom Kippur prayers, I force myself to stop and think about every single word. I force myself to dig down into my year – indeed, my entire life – searching to find what I have done wrong. Forcing myself to stare myself in the face. My real, ugly, inner face. That face we all hide, even from ourselves, of every little hidden sin we commit. All those things we try to hide, all those things we justify. And, inevitably, I find things I wish I didn’t see. I find thoughts, words, and deeds, that I wish I hadn’t done. I see just how wrong I was and why.  And that is what makes me cry.

And when I’m done with examining myself, I examine all the other parts of myself – my fellow Jews.  Not in a judgmental kind of way, no, of course not! But, as we learned out from the recent parsha of Nitzavim, we are all responsible for our fellow Jews.  So I consider – how many sins have my fellow Jews committed that I am now responsible for? I bear the weight of responsibility for the likes of Madoff.  I bear responsibility for every crime any Jew has committed. I bear responsibility for every bite of non-kosher food that’s been swallowed. They are my sins. My murders, my rapes, my thefts, my affairs, my lies, my slander, my sins, all my sins. And when you realize the truth, the weight of all these sins, of course, of course you cry. I cry. And cry.

For Yom Kippur is not a time for mindless ritual. It is not a time to go to shul just to hear the chazan’s beautiful voice (although if Rabbi Ben is the chazan I couldn’t blame you!). It is a time to truly face ourselves. To truly take responsibility for everything we do and have done.  It is too difficult for me to handle doing this at any other time. It is too shocking, too raw.  On any other day, I am too frightened.  But on Yom Kippur, I find the courage to face myself. To face my true self, with all my flaws.

But when Yom Kippur is done and, please G-d, my teshuva (repentance) has been pure enough to be accepted by G-d, I can walk away feeling light and free. I can walk away with my head held high, renewed, rejuvenated, forgiven, for I have repented of my sins, all of them.  Like my wedding day, I walk away elated, clean and new… and loving myself, the real me, the true me: the me with all the shmutz removed.

May we all have a meaningful and moving Yom Kippur, may our teshuva be true and deep and accepted by Hashem, and may we all be written and sealed in the Book of Life for a good year.

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