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!

This week, I sat down to dinner with some friends in Montreal.  The head of the household began to tell a story of the dedication of a new Torah in the community.  It was a small Torah, the sofer’s first, and so was very special.  At the celebration, the rabbi said something interesting to the man who was dedicating the Torah.

“I want to know what mitzvah [good deed] you’ve done,” the rabbi said.  “I know this is a great mitzvah to be dedicating this Torah, but I want to know in the merit of what mitzvah you were allowed to do this mitzvah.  What great mitzvot have you been doing in your home, out of the sight of others, with no accolades, that has given you the merit to be able to dedicate this Torah?”

In Judaism, we have a concept that the reward for doing a good deed is that you get to do another good deed. This is contrary to most religions, where the reward for doing a good deed is to get wonderful things here on earth, or “brownie points” up in Heaven.  Judaism isn’t a religion that’s about “what can I get?” or “what is going to happen in the next world?” – it’s about what’s happening in the here and now that’s important.  And what could be more important than doing the right things?  So naturally the reward for doing one mitzvah is that G-d lets you do another one!  Of course, you can get other material and spiritual rewards, but the true reward is getting to do that extra good deed.

I wrote already about the mitzvah of shooing the mother bird away from her nest before you take her eggs.  As I said, this particular mitzvah always struck me as really strange.  Even with an understanding of it, it’s still easy to say, “Okay, that’s a very interesting mitzvah, but it’s not really all that important, in the grand scheme of things.”  Still, we must avoid thoughts like this because every mitzvah is important to G-d.  Birds are G-d’s creatures, too, and who are we to say that showing them compassion is only a minor mitzvah?

If we want to take these ducklings, we must first drive away the mother. It seems such a small mitzvah, yet it brings such a big reward, including the reward of doing another mitzvah! We can never underestimate the power of even a small good deed, such as showing compassion for animals.

One of the ways we can see just how important this mitzvah is, is to look at the reward we get for it.  The passage in the Torah immediately following the one about the bird states that “If you build a new house, you shall make a fence for your roof…”  How is this a reward?  How is it even connected?

Rashi, one of the greatest commentators on the Torah to ever live, explains that “If you fulfilled the commandment of sending away [the mother bird from] the nest, your end [will be] to build a new house.” We can understand this because it says “If you build a new house,” which is something it really doesn’t need to say.  It could simply say “You shall make a fence for your roof,” since this commandment applies to all houses, even if you’re buying or inheriting it.  But as a reward for doing the mitzvah of sending away the mother bird, G-d will give you the gift of building a new house, as a vehicle for you to do the mitzvah of building a fence around the roof, which you may not be able to do on a purchased or inherited house, as the previous owner may have beaten you to it!  The real key, according to Rashi, is that “a commandment drags another commandment [after it]“… in other words, if you do one mitzvah, you get the benefit of doing another one.

As we each try to do more good deeds, we should remember this and look upon it with joy.  No good deed is too small or too insignificant! They are all precious to G-d… sometimes much more than we realize.

Shabbat Shalom!

A few years ago, before I married Rabbi Ben, I found this little lost duckling and adopted it. I've always had a soft spot for animals... maybe even a little bit TOO MUCH compassion!

I love animals.  I always have.  When I was a child we always had a cat in my house and I would chase after and attempt to hug pretty much any other animal I saw, from dogs to lizards to frogs.  For a while, I even wanted to be a veterinarian (until that frog we had to dissect in 9th grade biology class!).

At some point about 5 or 6 years ago, I took it into my head that I wanted chickens.  I honestly don’t remember what gave me that crazy idea, but I told all my friends about it and next thing I knew, my friend Farmer Ben was hatching chickens and raising them in his backyard! In the meantime, I was living in a small apartment in Miami and dreaming of the day when I could have my own chickens.

The first few years that I read this week’s parsha I would become very upset when reading about the mother bird.  “If a bird’s nest happens to be before you on the road, on any tree or on the ground – young birds or eggs – and the mother is roosting on the young birds or on the eggs, you shall not take the mother on the young.  You shall surely send away the mother and take the young for yourself, so that it will be good for you and it will prolong [your] days.”

My initial reaction to this was always one of compassion.  That poor mother bird! She has given life to these baby birds, or these eggs she’s waiting to hatch, and you’re taking them from her! Imagine how she must feel!  When I would share this sentiment with other people, they would tell me I have too much compassion.  Judaism is a religion that teaches a middle-of-the-road approach to all middot (character traits).  No one middah should be taken too far – compassion included.  If we feel compassion even for things or people that are undeserving of our compassion, they could end up causing increasing harm.  Showing too much compassion for a murderer could result in him being back out on the streets and doing it again, for example.

The laws about chasing away a mother bird before taking her eggs becomes suddenly relevant when you think about how we get our eggs - especially if you want to raise the hens yourself!

As the years have gone by, my perspective on the mother bird situation has changed.  Having spent time on farms and some day wanting to have chickens of my own, I understand how I will want to take their eggs when they lay them.  Farmer Ben once told us a story of when he was working in an organic egg “factory.”  The chickens would sit on their perches and lay eggs, which would land in a basket below them.  Every day, Farmer Ben would have to put his hands in and retrieve the eggs, with the chickens pecking at him the entire time.  The birds didn’t want their eggs taken! But in the afternoons, he said, the chickens would go outside to eat or get some sun and would forget their eggs.  At those times, he could stick his hand in without being pecked at.  By the time they came back, the birds had forgotten about their eggs entirely.  Although the birds experience distress when their eggs are taken from before their eyes, they don’t experience any after being shooed away.  By giving us this commandment in the Torah, Hashem has struck a perfect balance: just enough compassion, but not too much.

It’s a lesson we should carry through our lives.  Any character trait we have can be good or bad, depending on how it’s used and how much of it we apply.  And even if it’s not a bad character trait we have too much of, having excess of a good character trait really can be “too much of a good thing.”

As we work on ourselves during this holy month of Elul, as we approach the days of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur when we are judged and the book of our next year is written and sealed, let us work on finding balance… in every aspect and every part of our lives.

Shabbat shalom.

Last week we went for a walk to Mont Royal. We ran into some international folk dancing festival. There must have been 150 people there. Some were dressed up.

It seemed that the music and dancing style was %95 Bulgarian and the people who were dressed up were wearing traditional Bulgarian clothes.  To make it an ‘international event,’ they played a song or two in some other languages.

But here’s what blew my mind. The song ‘Hine Ma Tov,’ which I think is by the Miami Boys Choir, suddenly came on, and there were around 150 people dancing in step to the song. It was obviously not their first time hearing this Jewish tune. The steps most have been practiced dozens of times over the course of weeks or months to have them so fluid.

We as Jewish people have long been taking music from the non-Jews but this is the first time I’ve heard non-Jews take Jewish music and make it theirs.

Maybe there were a couple Jews there. It is possible. But certainly  not a trace of religious enough Jews to know about Miami Boys Choir.

The video was shot on an iPhone, the lighting wasn’t too great, but it gives an idea.

WARNING – There are a few seconds of some blurred females dancing in this clip. They are fully dressed in traditional clothing, though I can’t guarantee it will meet all standards of modesty. Please to not watch if you may be offended by this.