Count the Omer with Me

[muman613]

Shalom,

Let us count the Omer together...

BA-RUCH A-TAH ADO-NAI E-LO-HE-NU ME-LECH HA-OLAM ASHER KID-E-SHA-NU BE-MITZ-VO-TAV VETZI-VA-NU AL SEFI-RAT HA-OMER.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us concerning the counting of the Omer.



Today is two days of the Omer.

[muman613]

Kevanah of 2nd day of Omer:

http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/276674/jewish/Omer-2.htm

Gevurah Shel Chessed (Strength/Discipline of Kindness)

[muman613]

Some information about the commandment to count the omer...


http://ohr.edu/explore_judaism/ask_the_rabbi/ask_the_rabbi/5420

From: Yehuda

Dear Rabbi,

What is the connection between counting the Omer and working on ourselves and self-improvement? I imagine it has to do with getting ready for Shavuot, but I'm sure how that works. Thanks for any clarification you have on this.


Dear Yehuda,

According to the Zohar, as a result of exile and the spiritual impurity of ancient Egypt, the Jewish people sank to the 49th level of spiritual impurity. This was so much so, that if they had stayed there any longer, they would not have been deemed worthy of redemption at all. After the Exodus, during the 49 days between Pesach and Shavuot, they elevated themselves from each level of tumah to the corresponding level of tahara.

This is commemorated with the period of the counting of the Omer – Sefirat HaOmer – in preparation for the receiving of the Torah in purity on Shavuot.

The Torah refers to this with the verse: "u'Sefartem l'chem…sheva shavuot" – "count for yourselves seven weeks". The word "yourselves" seems unnecessary. Wouldn't it be enough to say "count seven weeks"? What's the meaning of the additional "l'chem"? Similarly, the verse states that these weeks are to be "temimot" – complete. This also seems superfluous. Isn't a week by definition 7 days, and therefore complete?

Obviously, the emphasis is on the idea that the counting is to be for us – for our benefit. But in what way?

The commentators explain that the answer to this lies in our understanding of "sefartem".

Of course, the simple meaning of sefira is count – this is the count-up in anticipation of Shavuot, the receiving of the Torah which is certainly in our collective benefit.

But many commentators refine our understanding about how this is to be done based on various other meanings of sefira: "Sefar" refers to an outlying area — we are to push ourselves in self-improvement to the limits of our ability. This meaning also implies "border" — we are to limit/control ourselves within the confines of the Torah and mitzvot. Yet another meaning is related to "sapir" or sapphire — we are to beautify, purify and polish ourselves in preparation of receiving the Torah.

Other commentaries add an additional understanding based on the kabbalistic idea of the sefirot. The basic idea is to use the meaning, light and energy of the sefirot to guide us in achieving all of the above: maximizing our potential within the framework of Torah and mitzvot in order to make ourselves as luminescent gems in the crown of G-d's glorious Coronation – which is Shavuot.

While it's beyond our scope to go into this last explanation in depth, generally, the seven lower sefirot are associated with 7 attributes or character traits. Thus each of the 7 weeks of the Omer corresponds to one of these 7 sefirot, where each week highlights the improvement of that (Omer-specific) attribute: week 1 – Chesed/lovingkindness; week 2 – Gevurah/self-control; week 3 – Tiferet/spirituality; week 4 – Netzach/consistency; week 5 – Hod/gratitude; week 6 - Yesod/sanctity; week 7 – Malchut/consolidation (of all of the above).

In truth, our work of self-improvement during the Omer is intended to be even more fine-tuned and specific. This is what's suggested by the Torah's referring to 7 complete, full or perfect weeks. Each week is to be complete through the perfection of its individual days. Thus, each week and sefira is subdivided into the 7 days of each week such that there are 49 permutations of sefirot corresponding to each of the 49 days of the Omer.

Also, in the special service of Sefirat HaOmer found in all siddurim [including Ashkenaz, and ArtScroll], this corresponds to the 7 verses of "la'menatzeach" (Psalm 67), often portrayed in the form of the 7-branched menorah, which has a total of 49 words; the central verse of "la'menatzeach" starting with "yismachu" corresponding to the central branch of the menorah, which itself has 49 letters (including vav's in "tishpot" and "mishor"); the seven lines of the "ana b'koach" prayer which have 7 words each for a total of 49 (including the phrases made by the first letters of the words in each line [which, by the way, form the 42 letter name of G-d]).

It is also customary to learn the ethical teachings of Pirkei Avot during this period of self-improvement in anticipation of Shavuot. This is in fulfillment of the dictum, "derech eretz kadma l'Torah" – "good character traits are a prerequisite for Torah". This particularly applies to the 48 ways of acquiring Torah enumerated in the 6th chapter where each of these ways corresponds to one of each of the 49 days, and the 49th day is a culmination, synthesis and review of all of them together in preparation for receiving the Torah!

[muman613]

An article on the 1st perek of Pirkie Avot (Ethics of the fathers)...


http://www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter1-1a.html

Who Gave the Rabbis the Right..., Part I
Chapter 1, Mishna 1(a)
By Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld

"Moses received the Torah from Sinai and transmitted it Joshua. Joshua transmitted it to the Elders, the Elders to the Prophets, and the Prophets transmitted it to the Men of the Great Assembly. They [the Men of the Great Assembly] said three things: Be deliberate in judgment, raise many students, and make a protective fence for the Torah."

Welcome back everyone, first of all!

This is the first mishna of Pirkei Avos, the great ethical work of the Sages of the Mishna. We will first provide a bit of background to Pirkei Avos and the Mishna in general, and we'll then begin examining the text at hand.

The Mishna is an early rabbinic composition outlining all of Jewish law. It was edited and brought into its current form in the late 2nd Century C.E. It is a compilation of the teachings of the greatest scholars of the four centuries preceding that time -- from early in the period of the Second Temple till about 120 years after its destruction. It was authored in the Land of Israel. Shortly after its completion Jewish settlement in the Land experienced a slow but steady decline as a result of instability and persecution. (The center of Jewish life would then shift to Babylonia -- where hundreds of years later the Talmud would be composed.)

The Mishna is divided into six main volumes, each divided into smaller sections (or tractates). These sections deal with virtually all areas of Jewish law, such as holidays, Temple service, civil law, marriage and divorce, and agricultural laws. Pirkei Avos is the only section of the Mishna devoted entirely to ethics.

Pirkei Avos begins by charting the transmission of the Torah, in outline form, from Moses to the "Men of the Great Assembly" (more on them below) and the beginning of the period of the Mishna. Our mishna concludes with the advice of the Men of the Great Assembly. Most of the first chapter of Pirkei Avos introduces us to the great scholars of the early generations of the Mishna, as well as the primary messages they conveyed to their and to future generations.

The historical outline our mishna provides is hopelessly scant and was clearly not intended to provide us with any serious historical reference. Rather, it was meant to authenticate the Mishna, demonstrating that its teachings span from an unbroken tradition originating at Sinai itself.

Let us first briefly identify the eras mentioned. Joshua was the successor to Moses. He and the Elders of his time led the nation into the Land of Israel and oversaw the conquest and division of the Land among the Twelve Tribes of Israel.

With the passing of the Elders began the period of the Prophets, the spiritual leaders of the nation until the time of the Mishna, approximately 1000 years later. G-d's hand was no longer openly revealed to every member of Israel as it had been during the Exodus and the miraculous conquest of the Land. Nevertheless, G-d still communicated openly with the great men and women of Israel through prophecy and Divine inspiration. The spiritual and often political leaders of Israel were individuals whose authority rested directly on the word of G-d.

Finally, as the last prophets died out at the beginning of the Second Temple era, the period of the Great Assembly began. This was a religious and primarily judicial body which consisted of 120 of Israel's greatest scholars. It was headed by a Nasi, literally 'elevated one' and usually translated as 'prince', who was assisted by an Av Beis Din, or court head. Throughout this chapter, we will be introduced to the leadership pairs of many generations of this council.

In two weeks, G-d willing, we will discuss the significance of the transition from prophet to high court -- as well as the significance of the periods described here altogether. As we will see, the Men of the Great Assembly recognized the significance of this transition and in our mishna advised the nation accordingly. This week, however, we address a more basic issue: What is this introduction doing at the start of Pirkei Avos -- rather than at the start of the entire Mishna?

This question is raised by R. Ovadiah of Bartenura, of 15th-16th Century Italy and later Israel, in his commentary to the Mishna. Our mishna's opening statement appears to be a historical introduction to the Mishna in general. (Note: When I write "Mishna" with a capital M, the intention is the entire six-volume work, of which Pirkei Avos is a small part. The term "mishna" in lowercase refers to a particular paragraph of the Mishna, such as the weekly mishna we study.)

The purpose of this introduction is presumably to verify the Mishna's authenticity. Although it was authored nearly 1500 years after the Revelation at Sinai -- and much of its content was preserved only orally until that time -- it followed a clear and uninterrupted transmission. It is as authentic as the Torah of Moses itself.

There is, however, one obvious difficulty with this. The Mishna is a six-volume work; Pirkei Avos appears towards the end of the fourth volume. Why is this introduction at the start of Pirkei Avos rather than at the start of the entire Mishna?

R. Ovadiah explains that the Rabbis felt it more necessary to place this preface here than at the start of the Mishna. Virtually all the other sections of the Mishna discuss Jewish law and custom. They are fairly logical and precise -- how does one observe the Sabbath, slaughter an animal, compose a marriage contract, bring a sin offering. For the most part, the Mishna discusses the how-to's of Judaism. What are the many details and fine points of Jewish law, when do and do they not apply, upon whom are they binding, and what if all sorts of difficulties arise during their fulfillment.

Now Jews never really had very much doubt as to the origins of such laws. These were practices and traditions every Jewish child observed in his or her parents' home. An entire nation, often spanning oceans and continents, was observing virtually the same law -- and had been doing so for the many centuries of their well-documented history. There was very little doubt to the believing Jew as to the origins of such laws; they were hardly self-imposed.

Further, Judaism bespoke an understanding of G-d and human nature which could hardly have been humanly inspired. Israel was practicing a just, merciful and rational religion far superior to any of the often savage practices the pagans of their time had managed to concoct. Their beliefs and practices were just and moral practically beyond the comprehension of primitive man. The world's other great religions-to-be would merely mimic and adopt Judaism's fundamental precepts; human beings on their own would never devise anything even remotely approximating. (The only possible exception is the religions of the Far East -- although there are those who suggest they stem from the descendants of Abraham's concubine -- whom Abraham sent to the East (Genesis 25:6).) Thus, Jews had no doubt as to the Divine origin of their Torah. From where else could such wisdom and beauty have originated?

This, however, was the case with Jewish law proper. Laws are definite and unwavering. They possess an exactitude which clearly must have originated somewhere. But what of the moral directives of the Sages? When the Sages tell us to greet everyone favorably (later, 1:15) is that really a *law*? Perhaps it is sound advice, but let's say you just got up on the wrong side of the bed one morning. You don't *feel like* giving a cheerful "good morning" to the attendant at the local 7-11 who hands you your morning coffee or newspaper. Are you really *obligated* to do so anyway? Does such a law stem from Sinai?

To this our Sages answer: "Moses received the Torah from Sinai..." The laws we are about to study originated at Sinai -- just the same as "There are 39 forbidden labors on the Sabbath" (Mishna Shabbos 7:2). The Sages here speak with the same authority they do throughout the entire Mishna. Their statements here may seem just plain old good advice -- the same we may find in any other Dale Carnegie-type self-help book. But let us not for a moment think that the Sages of the Mishna are no longer bearers of a sacred tradition in this capacity. As we will see over the years as we study their words in depth, they are not just offering aphorisms or wise, pithy advice. They are speaking nothing less than the word of G-d.

There is a deeper aspect to this introduction. The "good advice" of the Sages is hardly as precise as most of what the Mishna concerns itself with. Pirkei Avos deals with inexact and sometimes relative statements of morality and proper behavior -- and this too makes it appear less authentic than the real meat and potatoes of Judaism. We will discuss this issue G-d willing next week.

[muman613]

http://www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter1-1b.html

The First Commandment: Know Thyself
Chapter 1, Mishna 1(b)
By Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld

"Moses received the Torah from Sinai and transmitted it Joshua. Joshua transmitted it to the Elders, the Elders to the Prophets, and the Prophets transmitted it to the Men of the Great Assembly. They [the Men of the Great Assembly] said three things: Be deliberate in judgment, raise many students, and make a protective fence for the Torah."

Last week we discussed the first few lines of our mishna, which outline the history of the Torah's transmission from Moses until the period of the Mishna. The introduction appears to authenticate the Mishna, as if to say that although it was not put to writing until nearly 1500 years after the Revelation at Sinai, it is as authentic as the Torah of Moses itself.

To this we posed the question of the commentator R. Ovadiah of Bartenura: Why was such an introduction placed at the start of Pirkei Avos and not at the start of the entire work of the Mishna?

R. Ovadiah answered that Jews had little doubt as to the authenticity of most of the Mishna. Virtually the entire Mishna describes technical details of observance -- how does one refrain from labor on the Sabbath, slaughter an animal, tithe his crops (or salary), etc. And no one imagined such laws were just invented by domineering or power-hungry rabbis. They were clearly part of our oral tradition passed down from Sinai -- elucidating the mitzvos (commandments) of Scripture itself. Such a large and intricate body of law hardly evolved out of thin air, nor did it gain universal acceptance spontaneously. When our forefathers transmitted them, asserting that they were handed down to us from Sinai, there was little reason to doubt them. The Sages would have had little to gain inventing such an intricate set of laws just for the heck of it; from where else would it have come?

Pirkei Avos, however, is perhaps different. It is the only section of the Mishna wholly dedicated to ethics and character development. It provides advice: how to interact with others, what qualities to develop within ourselves, and really how to live meaningful and fulfilling lives -- all of which in honesty could be all but missed observing the technical mitzvos of Judaism alone. Such "laws" one might think are nothing more than good advice -- hardly different from the many hundreds of self-help books which have been authored since (some perhaps more up-to-date and relevant to our generation). What makes the wise words and sayings of the Sages any more authentic -- any more "sacred" -- than those of Ben Franklin or Dale Carnegie?

To this, our mishna begins: "Moses received the Torah from Sinai..." The messages, aphorisms and advice of our Sages, collected in Pirkei Avos, are the word of G-d. This is not the good advice of wise old men who lived 2000 years ago. It is as much a part of our eternal Torah as the most technical and intricate of laws. They are all a part of G-d's infinite Torah; Pirkei Avos stems from a tradition every bit as ancient.

There is a deeper issue here, however. When giving advice, the Rabbis often speak in generalities. Just looking at a few of the upcoming mishnas, we are told: "serve G-d not for the sake of reward" (1:3), "cleave to the Rabbis" (1:4, paraphrased), "acquire for yourself a friend" (1:6), "love work" (1:10). The Sages actually offer us very little by way of detail regarding how we should act or go about following their advice. We are given general directives and attitudes alone; the details almost seem left to us.

Even beyond this, how much does the Written Torah really tell us about how to behave -- not which animals we may consume but truly what kind of people we should be? Well, we have a handful of nice "Bible stories" -- how our forefathers interacted with their neighbors or reacted in times of crisis. Some of these incidents are inspiring, others are more critical. Beyond that, the Torah offers us only the most general of directives: "...be holy for I am holy" (Leviticus 19:2); "Love your fellow as yourself" (ibid., v. 18); "...seek peace and pursue it" (Psalms 34:15). These verses are perhaps "nice", but the Torah really does not tell us very much about character development and interpersonal relationships. Isn't that at least as important an aspect of religion -- if not more so -- than the technical commandments? Is Judaism in fact more a religion of form than spirit, of law and ritual than one which cultivates a true "kingdom of priests" (Exodus 19:6), and "light unto the nations" (Isaiah 42:6)?

And this too returns us to the issue we began with. The "advice" of the Sages seems more informal and less authentic simply because it is not very precise. The Torah *seems* to tell us: "Observe all sorts of rigorous and detailed laws and rituals, but beyond that be nice guys, and we'll leave that up to you." Did the Torah really just for the most part ignore the areas of character development and personal growth? Did G-d really say so little about this that it had to be relegated to the "self-help" good advice of the Sages?

We now come to one of the true fundamentals of Judaism. (Over the years, you will find I call a lot of very different things "one of the great fundamentals of Judaism." Well, perhaps they all are...) How to behave is really not something the Torah can dictate or spell out for us. No two people are alike. We all possess different personalities, inclinations, weaknesses, drives, and ambitions. And the Torah will apply differently to each one of us; it carries a different message for each and every Jew.

The Torah -- in particular Scripture -- is a book of absolute truths. It makes statements which are correct in an absolute sense. Sabbath observance is true and relevant to every Jew; so is eating matzah on Passover and refraining from eating on Yom Kippur (leaving aside life-threatening situations -- which the Torah itself excludes).

Character development, however, departs the realm of the absolute and enters the realm of the relative. How does each of us realize his or her potential, becoming the person he or she truly could be? How precisely do we "cleave" to G-d (Deuteronomy 10:20) and become G-dlike individuals? Such the Torah could never spell out for us. We are all different. No two people are alike and how each of us best achieves fulfillment depends on our own inner natures. One person may have a temper. The Torah's message to him might be to use his energy and excitable nature for worthy causes. Another may be a natural follower and people pleaser, and the Torah's advice to him is to not be ashamed to stand up for his convictions when necessary. One person is introspective and will grow most from personal thought and reflection. Another is light and chatty and best serves G-d by bringing warmth and good cheer to others.

When it comes to character development, there is quite simply no one way -- and there are really very few ironclad absolutes the Torah can spell out for us. In fact, there is no way a single work of any length could write out how all possible types of individuals should act in all possible types of situations (and of course, we would have to figure out which "type" we are before we begin). Judaism was not intended to create a one-size-fits-all religion. G-d has no interest in having us all conform to a single standard -- that we all look, act and behave in exactly the same manner. If He did, He would not have created each of us different. Rather, G-d gave us the guidelines and the priorities, the value system of the Torah. These are the absolutes with which we must begin. But beyond that, the Torah leaves it to us. Only we can truly fathom our inner natures and G-d's particular message for us.

Thus, when it comes to the really tough issues of life -- who should I be, how should I act, how should I develop myself, how should I relate to the many different types I come in contact with -- the Torah is frustratingly silent. It can give no more than general directives. It tells us what the Torah's priorities are -- what generally speaking are good qualities and proper behavior patterns. But it really cannot choose for us. We might like to fall back on some holy writings to lead us by the hand -- never allowing us the discomfort of having to think for ourselves, but life is just not that simple. How to act in any given situation depends upon who we are and what we feel our mission in life to be. And to direct us in that the Torah and the Sages can give little more than sound advice -- helping us set our priorities in life and providing us with the clues for true self-discovery. Certainly we must ask the advice of rabbis and mentors, and we must study carefully what the Sages say about values and character traits -- and we will no doubt discover facts about ourselves we could have easily and blissfully lived a lifetime never recognizing. Yet Judaism does not and cannot spell out our lives and our goals for us. Only we can fulfill that most basic and fundamental commandment of all: Know thyself.

[muman613]

Shalom,

Let us count the Omer together...

BA-RUCH A-TAH ADO-NAI E-LO-HE-NU ME-LECH HA-OLAM ASHER KID-E-SHA-NU BE-MITZ-VO-TAV VETZI-VA-NU AL SEFI-RAT HA-OMER.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us concerning the counting of the Omer.



HA-YOM SHLISHI YOM-IM LA-OMER

Today is three days of the Omer.

[muman613]

Shalom,

Let's study one more perek of Pirkie Avot before sleep... This one, in my opinion, is sage advice...

http://www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter1-6a.html

Rabbis Versus Friends
Chapter 1, Mishna 6(a)
By Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld

"Yehoshua ben (son of) Perachia and Nittai of Arbel received the transmission from them [the rabbis of Mishna 4]. Yehoshua ben Perachia said: Make for yourself a rabbi, acquire for yourself a friend, and judge every person favorably."

This mishna brings us to the next generation of scholars and the advice they offered to their and future generations. We are still in one of the earliest generations of the Mishna.

Yehoshua first advises us that we "make" for ourselves a rabbi. We discussed recently (Mishna 4) the role of the Torah scholar within Judaism. As we saw, a rabbi is hardly a religious functionary, conducting services at a synagogue, wedding or funeral, nor is he simply one who is asked to decide matters of Jewish law. A true rabbi is firstly one who serves as a role model for his community, who not only teaches G-d's Torah, but who lives and exemplifies those same values as well.

Second, the true Torah scholar is one who is imbued with the entire gamut of Torah knowledge -- and thus, he is the only one truly able to take that wisdom and apply it to real life situations. Life is far more complicated than ritual and religious ceremony. We are constantly faced with challenges -- struggling with our own natures and in our relationships with others. Many of the decisions we must make during our days and in the course of our lives are in reality religious by nature. Take for example our professional lives. How does the lawyer defend a client he knows to be guilty as sin? How does the psychologist deal with a patient who may be a danger to his family or to society? Say a patient (or close friend) confesses to having committed a serious crime or having a drug addiction? Is one obligated to turn him in, or does true friendship imply confidentiality? When may a doctor provide experimental or alternative treatment to his patient? Say an acquaintance calls during off hours for medical treatment or advice. Does the Torah obligate one with the appropriate know-how to help? How much of my employer's time (or paper) may I waste assuming it's understood (I hope none of you are reading this on work time...) -- or because everyone else does it? How do I deal with employees (possibly myself) who are in the habit of talking behind the boss's back? How much of my earnings must I give to charity -- and to which types of charities? How do I balance my career with family obligations, with Torah study, and with community involvement? And how should I *act*? How friendly and outgoing should I be to others? How much effort should I put in to mending a strained relationship, and when is it time to walk away? What is the proper manner of disciplining my children? How do I draw the line between parenting and butting in? How much respect should I demand of my children? Should I interfere with their every bad practice and association, or should I let them learn life experiences on their own? And how should I get along with my own parents -- possibly whose religious values differ greatly from my own? And am I obligated in their healthcare?

The questions are endless and ongoing -- and they are really what religion is all about. Far beyond what color yarmulke a person wears, these are the issues which truly define if we are Torah-observant and G-d-fearing Jews. And for such issues Israel needs rabbis. Virtually none of the questions above can be answered with a single verse or law in the Talmud. Our Sages had much to say about all such issues. There are priorities and considerations which must be carefully weighed and balanced. And the answers may very well not be the same for any two people.

As a simple example, the Sages had much to say about the importance of Torah study, of child rearing, of community service, and of earning a livelihood. Which are given greater priority? How much time should I spend on each? It really depends who I am, what the Torah's priorities are, and how the Torah's eternal truths apply to me and my situation in particular. And only one who knows the entire Torah can decipher which of its many truths apply in any given situation. It's easy enough for me to tell my wife, "Sorry, honey, can't help with the dishes; the Rabbis say Torah study is important." (I've tried that one before, and it don't work too well...) But helping others -- certainly one's own wife -- is also an obligation. Which comes first? What is the proper balance?

Thus again, Israel need rabbis. The balancing act of life -- how to balance the different values and priorities of the Torah and of life -- is the real trick to life and personal fulfillment. And only the scholar who knows both the Torah's wisdom and me personally will be able to assist me. He will see my own unique qualities and attributes -- often better than I see them myself -- and determine how the Torah's eternal values apply to me personally. And if he knows me -- if I've "made" for myself a rabbi -- then I have some hope of striking that proper balance.

Our mishna additionally tells us to "acquire for yourself a friend." This connects closely to Yehoshua's first statement of making for myself a rabbi. We are dealing firstly with a friend in the spiritual sense -- one who assists me in my religious and personal growth. True friends are those who grow together, who share their feelings, and who grow as individuals. They are open and sincere with one another, and are practically the only ones who can (perhaps) give advice and criticism freely and openly. King Solomon wrote: "Faithful are the chastisements of a friend, while burdensome are the kisses of an enemy" (Proverbs 27:6). A friend is one from whom I grow, and who will point out to me my faults (often indiscernible to myself) and instruct me in how to realize my potential.

It's interesting to note that the mishna uses a stronger word for friend than it did for rabbi. We were instructed to "make" ("asai") for ourselves a rabbi and to "buy" ("k'nai") ourselves a friend. The implication is that more effort must be expended in acquiring a friend. Why is this?

I believe there are two issues here. First, in spite of everything we've said about the importance of rabbis, they only go so far. We have all heard or read flowery and inspiring words (or e-mails) from rabbis and felt the gut reaction, whether expressed or not, something like: "You know, that's really easy to say on an abstract level. It would be nice if life were so easy. If I were 30 years older and a well-respected rabbi I could also get away with proudly espousing such high and uncompromising standards. But the reality is just not that way."

One's rabbi is usually somewhat older and more established than he. Everything he says is wonderful and inspiring -- he makes it all sound so easy. But he doesn't *really* know what it's like to come from where I come from, and how difficult it would be to break away from parents, friends, culture, habits and everything else I would have to leave behind.

And this is where friends come in. A friend is an equal; he speaks your language. He may even share your background and history. He knows where you're coming from because he's been there himself. And he might just help you figure out how *you* can apply truth to your life, and how it can all become meaningful and relevant to you.

There is a second, unrelated concept behind the idea of acquiring a friend. We don't just "make" friends for ourselves; we must invest in and "acquire" them. Friendships are two-way affairs. A relationship with a rabbi or teacher, as valuable as it may be, is basically passive. Although questioning and objecting are very much a part of the student's role (as we'll learn later, "The bashful student will not learn" (2:6), for the most part the student is enjoined to assume a humble, submissive role -- as we saw recently in Mishna 4, "Cleave to the dust of their feet."

Developing friendships, however, requires a much greater investment of time and effort. We "purchase" friendships by our willingness to share our feelings, stay up late discussing our problems, and be available to help him get through his difficult times. The investment may be great, and we may not "learn" as much as we do from our teachers. But relationships are yet another necessary ingredient towards developing ourselves as human beings and fulfilling our missions on this earth.

[muman613]

Shalom,

Let us count the Omer together...

BA-RUCH A-TAH ADO-NAI E-LO-HE-NU ME-LECH HA-OLAM ASHER KID-E-SHA-NU BE-MITZ-VO-TAV VETZI-VA-NU AL SEFI-RAT HA-OMER.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us concerning the counting of the Omer.



Today is day five of the Omer.

[muman613]

http://www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter1-10.html

Work Makes Equal
Chapter 1, Mishna 10
By Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld

"Shemaya and Avtalyon received the transmission from them [the previous generation of scholars, listed in Mishna 8]. Shemaya said: Love work, despise high position, and do not become too close to the authorities."

This mishna offers us advice regarding the proper work ethic. First of all, we are to *love* work. We should not view work as a necessary evil, something we must suffer through in order to make ends meet. Work should ideally give ours lives meaning and ourselves individuality. It affords us a sense of productivity -- that we are making a difference in the world -- and therefore it gives us our sense of existence.

As my teacher R. Yochanan Zweig (www.talmudicu.edu) explained, we tend to measure and value ourselves according to our G-d-given gifts -- our looks, height, intelligence, athletic abilities, wit, etc. But in truth, these are not ours. They are *G-d's*: gifts He handed us through no effort of our own. *We* are what we make of those gifts, how we develop our G-d-given talents and the extent to which we use them to better ourselves and mankind. G-d ends and we begin not with our gifts and bodies but with our achievements.

Further, it should not be our bottom line which gives us the feeling we have produced. We are to love work, not money. Money is a very poor gauge of productivity. The Talmud (Megillah 6b) tells us that when it comes to business (or to day trading for that matter), one may very well meet with success without making any kind of concerted (or competent) efforts. (The Talmud contrasts this to Torah knowledge, which can only be acquired through serious study.) Ultimately it is G-d who grants us our paychecks, often in spite of our greatest efforts to the contrary.

Rather, our focus should be on productivity. The term used by our mishna for work -- "melacha" -- is the same the Torah uses to describe the types of labor forbidden on the Sabbath (Exodus 20:10). The connotation is thus work which produces and brings about a positive change in the world (such as planting, cooking, building, weaving). We should measure ourselves not according to our bottom line or how many people we manage, but according to our output: how productive are we as human beings.

On a practical level as well, work gives man a sense of contentedness. Human beings are most satisfied when they are productive. The Sages state that even one who does not need to work for income should keep himself occupied, for idling leads to madness and to lewdness (Mishna Kesuvos 5:5). (We always hear stories of the fellow who wins x zillion dollars in the lottery, puts it in the bank, and continues being the window washer he always was. He was the lucky one. Most people are ruined for life being handed all the money they could ever dream of (though most of us would be happy to take the challenge... ;-) )

The Talmud tells us further that G-d makes each person's job enjoyable to him -- or at least provides him with the set of talents to make one type of work most fulfilling (Brachos 43b). We can all contribute to mankind in one way or the other. Each of us must simply find his or her calling.

As always, what seems just the good practical advice of the Sages is in truth very much a religious issue. One who finds his job fulfilling will return from work energized. He will then be able to spend a part of his remaining time engaged in religious pursuits such as study and prayer. One, however, who is burnt out by the end of his day will have little energy and enthusiasm for extracurricular activities. Thus, productivity and excitement with life are not only psychologically beneficial; they are important for our religious well-being as well.

Lastly, work fosters an egalitarian attitude. We are all doing our part and making a difference to mankind. If we are each producing up to our capacity, we are all truly equal. And no one is above this very simple definition of equality. The Talmud writes: "One should flay carcasses in the marketplace and earn a living. He should not say 'I am a priest, I am a great man and such work is beneath me'" (Pesachim 113a). We measure ourselves not by our place on the totem pole or how well-connected we are with the powers that be, but by how much we are accomplishing. Of course, one who can be fully productive (and solvent) studying Torah alone is truly fortunate, as the Talmud writes: "Fortunate is he whose labor is in Torah" (Sanhedrin 99b). However, our primary concern must be if we are productive human beings, not if we are in the "right" circles, doing the "right" kind of work (my son, the doctor, the rabbi or whatever the preference may be), and certainly not if we're getting the "right" type of recognition. King Solomon said it best: "Whatever you do, do it with strength" (Koheles / Ecclesiastes 9:10).

Our mishna continues by telling us types of "labor" we should shy from -- ones involving high position and involvement with the authorities. Of course, a manager who organizes and orchestrates others' talents, creating teamwork and harmony within an organization is certainly "producing" himself, in very significant fashion. Likewise the public official who serves the many is in a way producing far more than an individual ever could.

However, our career goals should not involve recognition or being on top. Fame and public attention are hardly things we should wish for. Honor-seeking is practically antithetical to the Jewish virtues of modesty and humility. Further, public servants are almost invariably subject to public scrutiny and resentment, and must face the near impossible task of pleasing all the people all the time. Some of Israel's greatest leaders, such as Moses and King Saul, practically ran from the job only to have it forced upon them by G-d. Even until contemporary times, many of Israel's greatest rabbis were humble and unassuming men who drew little attention to themselves. In spite of this -- or perhaps because of this -- they were recognized as people of exceptional worth and almost de facto became leaders and spokesmen of their generation.

At the same time, however, we will learn later, "In a place where there are no men, endeavor to be a man" (2:6). We do not seek public position, but we must know our own strengths. And if I sincerely realize I am most capable, I must rise to the challenge.

The Catch 22 we are presented with is that the people who are really fit to be leaders are those who do not want the position. Another way of saying this is that if someone actually *wants* to be President going so far as to run for office, he is probably the last person we would want for the job. (I have fond memories of a coworker at a past job (a research center) who demoted himself from a management position (which he was performing quite well) so he could get back to the "real work." OK, it didn't involve a pay cut, but still...) The true stuff of leadership consists of a person of strong inner character, one who would much rather not lead but who reluctantly recognizes that he is most capable of serving his country and humanity. Throughout the course of history, Israel has hardly been immune to self-seeking leaders. Yet we have been blessed with many true leaders, both spiritual and temporal. And through this we have continued -- and may we continue -- to persevere.

[muman613]

Ok, tonight we start the final two days of Pesach (which are Yom Tovim in the diaspora) so I will not be posting days 6 & 7...

Please make sure you count the omer this evening and tomorrow night so we can resume the count (with the blessing) on Tuesday night.

[muman613]

Wouldn't you know it.... I missed counting last night and thus I will continue the thread without the blessing...

Today is eight days, which is one week and one day of the Omer.

[muman613]

May the Merciful One restore unto us the service of the Bet Hamikdash to its place, speedily in our days; Amen, Selah.

For the Choirmaster; a song with instrumental music; a Psalm. May God be gracious to us and bless us; may He make His countenance shine upon us forever; that Your way be known on earth, Your salvation among all nations. The nations will extol You, O God; all the nations will extol You. The nations will rejoice and sing for joy, for You will judge the peoples justly and guide the nations on earth forever. The peoples will extol You, O God; all the peoples will extol You, for the earth will have yielded its produce and God, our God, will bless us. God will bless us; and all, from the farthest corners of the earth, shall fear Him.

We implore You, by the great power of Your right hand, release the captive. Accept the prayer of Your people; strengthen us, purify us, Awesome One. Mighty One, we beseech You, guard as the apple of the eye those who seek Your Oneness. Bless them, cleanse them; bestow upon them forever Your merciful righteousness. Powerful, Holy One, in Your abounding goodness, guide Your congregation. Only and Exalted One, turn to Your people who are mindful of Your holiness. Accept our supplication and hear our cry, You who knows secret thoughts. Blessed be the name of the glory of His kingdom forever and ever.

Master of the universe, You have commanded us through Moses Your servant to count Sefirat Ha-Omer, in order to purify us from our evil and uncleanness. As You have written in Your Torah, "You shall count for yourselves from the day following the day of rest, from the day on which you bring the Omer as a wave-offering; [the counting] shall be for seven full weeks. Until the day following the seventh week shall you count fifty days," so that the souls of Your people Israel may be cleansed from their defilement. Therefore, may it be Your will, Lord our God and God of our fathers, that in the merit of the Sefirat Ha-Omer which I counted today, the blemish that I have caused in the sefirah Chesed ShebeGevurah be rectified and I may be purified and sanctified with supernal holiness. May abundant bounty thereby be bestowed upon all the worlds. May it rectify our nefesh, ruach and neshamah from every baseness and defect, and may it purify and sanctify us with Your supernal holiness. Amen, selah.

[muman613]

Today is nine days, which is one week and two days of the Omer.

[muman613]

One more post this evening then off to bed for this oldish guy...

This Mishnah deals with the topic of heretics, and how we should be prepared to answer them.


http://www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter2-19.html

Pirkei Avos
Chapter 2, Mishna 19
Answering the Heretic
By Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld

"Rabbi Elazar said: Be diligent in the study of Torah. Know what to answer a heretic. Know before Whom you toil. And faithful is your Employer that He will pay you the reward for your labor."

We are continuing to study the teachings of the five primary students of R. Yochanan ben Zakkai (Mishna 10). This mishna presents the words of R. Elazar, R. Yochanan's fifth and final student.

R. Elazar advises us to be prepared to answer all challenges put forth by heretics. We must anticipate their arguments and be ready with proper and appropriate responses. We must know how the other side is translating (and usually mistranslating) verses and what those verses truly mean. Don't allow them to turn "a son has been born to us" (written many hundreds of years before the Common Era) into "a son will be born." And certainly don't let them tell you "maiden" means "virgin". (As always, I don't intend with this to challenge the beliefs of other religions. Everyone is entitled to his own beliefs. But telling us that our own Scripture says it -- when anyone who so much as speaks Hebrew knows full well it does not -- is going a bit too far.)

And this should not be a difficult task. We have the original Hebrew and all the ancient commentaries on our side. Truth really does speak for itself. Nevertheless, as we all know, getting others to buy truth is 10% content and 90% packaging. We must not only know what to answer. We must well know how to say it.

The term our mishna uses for heretic is "apikores." This is the Hebrew equivalent of Epicurus, the Ancient Greek philosopher (3rd-2nd Centuries B.C.E.), founder of the Epicurean philosophy ("Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die" -- especially with eating habits like that). (The Epicureans were actually more "rational hedonists," but for our purposes, the folk-simplification is sufficient -- and also telling.)

The term apikores in Jewish literature has become synonymous with one who adheres to any doctrine contrary to the basic tenets of Judaism. Certainly Epicureanism is practically antithetical to all we believe in. Death is not an end to existence to be disregarded. To the contrary: this world is no more than an entrance-way before the Banquet Hall (4:21 www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter4-21.html). The eventuality of death should not drive us to indulge ourselves, but to spend our lives preparing for that future grand entrance. (See also earlier, 2:15 www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter2-15b.html.)

In addition (as my father of blessed memory once pointed out to me), scholars have noted that the Talmud's frequent use of this term may have served as an anti-censorship device. When the Sages had occasion to refer to Christianity or other contemporary religions (usually in somewhat less than glowing terms), they would cloak their references by giving the impression they were referring to some obscure Greek philosophical sect. (See for example Talmud Chagigah 5b.) Likewise Gentiles in general were often referred to (both by the Talmud and the commentators) as Cutheans, Canaanites and the like.

R. Elazar's advice of knowing how to respond to the heretic is significant on many levels. Although our gut reaction might be not to dignify the scoffer with a response -- let him wallow in his own vomit -- we are told to take his arguments quite seriously. We must be ready with careful and even considerate responses. It is worthwhile to examine some of the reasons behind this.

First of all, we must stand up for the sake of G-d. Don't ignore them -- even if to our minds their arguments don't even warrant a response. We must not give even the most fleeting impression that others' arguments have any validity -- or that they know how to translate our own Torah better than we. Even if we know their arguments are contrived, based upon mistranslations, or quoted out of context, don't let anyone entertain that we had no response. Make it crystal clear that we know better.

The Talmud (as well as Jewish history) has some classic rabbinic comebacks to such confrontations. In Sanhedrin 39a, R. Avohu has a back and forth with a heretic who asked him clearly absurd questions. (He "proved" from a verse that G-d is a priest and therefore asked how G-d could have immersed Himself after defiling Himself by burying Moses being that He is larger than the entire world.) R. Avohu was just as quick to respond with verses quoted equally-ridiculously out of context. Clearly, both parties knew their entire debate was ludicrous. However, the rabbi felt it was important that he have the last word (he did) -- and the Talmud felt their "debate" was significant enough to record for future generations. Our superiority in all areas of Torah and theology should be demonstrated conclusively. It started with us -- and we are still the masters. (I know I'm sounding arrogant, but such truths really should be self-evident.)

Second of all, we respond to heretics for their sakes. We are actually sincerely interested in showing others the true light of G-d's wisdom. Far from considering such people infidels to be slain or converted at sword-point, we would like very much to reason with them. If (and only if) they doubt Judaism because they sincerely sought out truth -- and equally-sincerely reached their erroneous conclusions -- we would be more than happy to enlighten them with our version of truth. Judaism has very high regard for individuals who ask questions in matters of faith -- even if their answers have led them along what we consider the incorrect path.

Yisro (Jethro), father-in-law of Moses, is praised by the Rabbis for having tried out every idolatry in the world before realizing the truth of Judaism (see Mechilta to Exodus 18:11). Yisro really meant it. He was obsessed with his search for truth -- for he knew that if there is a G-d, He must have provided man with the instructions for how to serve Him. Eventually -- after an exceedingly long and circuitous route -- he followed in the footsteps of Abraham, and discovered the true G-d. For if a person -- even a heretic -- is interested in truth, we have much to say to him. If, however, he is impervious to open and sincere discussion and can think only in terms of proving he's "right" and rescuing our doomed Hebrew souls, then there is little to be gained from such dialogue.

(I don't mean to be misunderstood, by the way. Judaism does not believe in proselytizing. We have more than enough trouble keeping our own in line that we are hardly ready (at this point in history) to take on the world. However, a sincere question always deserves an equally sincere and patient response.)

Lastly, we must respond to scoffers for our own sakes. We must now and then fortify ourselves. Let ourselves know that agnostics and scoffers have no real substance to their arguments. A part of us would just love to forget about death. It actually doesn't sound so bad to eat, drink and be merry for our few remaining miserable years here. But we cannot allow ourselves to fall into the same trap as the agnostic. Don't let ourselves imagine that the scoffers have something on us -- that although their arguments might be less cogent, well at least they're enjoying themselves down here a lot more than we are. Don't feel that we might have won the World to Come, but in the process we have sacrificed this world.

I believe for this reason, our mishna concludes as it does: "And faithful is your Employer that He will pay you the reward for your labor." The commentator R. Yonah asks, did we not learn above "...do not be as servants who serve the Master to receive reward" (1:3 www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter1-3.html)? We are generally told not to focus on heavenly rewards, yet here R. Elazar makes a point of informing us that we will be rewarded?

I believe the explanation is that at times we must be reminded. And one such time is when heretics are challenging our faith. Are we tempted to give their arguments credence? They do have far more relaxed religious requirements. Hey, no other religion demands Passover cleaning! So maybe -- just maybe -- there is something to be said for other viewpoints and other ways of life.

And so, R. Elazar concluded as he did. G-d does reward us with true pleasure -- both in this world and in the next. We will be rewarded in full, measure for measure. Generally we do not serve G-d in order to receive reward. But when heretics challenge us, we need that reminder. If we would think that intellectually Judaism is superior, but that let's face it -- self-serving Epicureanism is far more pleasurable, then we have not really gotten the message of Torah. Judaism beats Epicureanism hands down -- spiritually, rationally and physically.

We should never feel that in Judaism we are sacrificing this world for the next. Hedonists have no idea what pleasure is. They indulge their bodies, performing acts of selfishness and taking, until they burn out physically and either get bored with such pleasures or feel a need to move on to bigger thrills to wring some more excitement out of a miserable existence. But they are not giving, they are not growing, and they are not sensing true satisfaction. They are merely whetting voracious and insatiable appetites, attempting to placate a gaping, dismal spiritual void with empty calories and endless frustration. They are living for nothing -- and deep down they know it. Only we who understand our purpose in life, who sense our immortality and recognize we are striving towards it, can sense true happiness and fulfillment both in this world and in the next.

[muman613]

Today is ten days, which is one week and three days of the Omer.



Teferet ShebeGevurah
Compassion of Discipline

Day 10 ― Tiferet of Gevurah: Compassion in Discipline

Underlying and driving discipline must not only be love, but also compassion. Compassion is unconditional love. It is love just for the sake of love, not considering the others position. Tiferet is a result of total selflessness in the eyes of G-d. You love for no reason; you love because you are a reflection of God. Does my discipline have this element of compassion?

Exercise for the day: Be compassionate to someone you have reproached.

http://www.aish.com/h/o/t/48969716.html

[muman613]

Today is fourteen days, which is two weeks of the Omer.



Tonight's Sefirah: Malchut sheb'Gevurah -- "Receptiveness in Restraint"

The teachings of Kabbalah explain that there are seven "Divine Attributes" -- Sefirot -- that G-d assumes through which to relate to our existence: Chessed, Gevurah, Tifferet, Netzach, Hod, Yesod and Malchut ("Love", "Strength", "Beauty", "Victory", "Splendor", "Foundation" and "Sovereignty"). In the human being, created in the "image of G-d," the seven sefirot are mirrored in the seven "emotional attributes" of the human soul: Kindness, Restraint, Harmony, Ambition, Humility, Connection and Receptiveness. Each of the seven attributes contain elements of all seven--i.e., "Kindness in Kindness", "Restraint in Kindness", "Harmony in Kindness", etc.--making for a total of forty-nine traits. The 49-day Omer Count is thus a 49-step process of self-refinement, with each day devoted to the "rectification" and perfection of one the forty-nine "sefirot."

[muman613]

Let us study another perek of Pirkie Avot... This time Chapter 2, Mishnah 18...

From Torah.org @

http://www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter2-18a.html

Prayer - Internal
Chapter 2, Mishna 18(a)
By Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld

"Rabbi Shimon said: Be careful with the recitation of the Shema and the prayers. When you pray, do not regard your prayers as a fixed obligation but rather as [the asking for] mercy and supplication before G-d, as the verse states, 'For gracious and merciful is He, slow to anger, great in kindness, and relenting of the evil decree' (Joel 2:13). Do not consider yourself wicked in your own eyes."

We are continuing to study the teachings of the five primary students of R. Yochanan ben Zakkai (Mishna 10). This mishna presents the words of R. Shimon, R. Yochanan's fourth student.

R. Shimon discusses the proper attitude we should have towards prayer. We must on the one hand "be careful" with it. We must view prayer as a duty, one we fulfill on a regular basis -- rather than when inspiration comes our way. Yet, continues our mishna, it must not simply become fixed and routine. We must continually turn to G-d asking for His abundant mercy. A day does not go by when we don't need it.

Prayer is set apart from virtually all the other mitzvos (commandments) of the Torah. Every mitzvah is a fulfillment of G-d's will and brings us closer to Him. But in prayer we communicate directly with G-d. We read in the Shema: "And if you listen to My commandments... to love the L-rd your G-d and to serve Him with all your heart..." (Deuteronomy 11:13). The Talmud explains: What does serving G-d with our hearts refer to? One must say it refers to prayer (Ta'anis 2a). Prayer is inherently a duty of the heart. It is internal. We may articulate the words of our prayers out loud, but it is not the speech with which we serve G-d. It is the thoughts and sincerity behind it.

Prayer further enables us to build a personal relationship with G-d. We talk to our G-d, we confide in Him, we beseech Him, and we express our innermost fears and hopes. And that of course includes confession. He knows, of course, in which ways we've sinned to Him. Yet we bring Him into that as well. Sin is not a dirty little part of our lives we attempt to keep away from our G-d, a part of ourselves separate from our religious lives. The same King David who stated, "I have placed the L-rd before me constantly" (Psalms 16:8), proclaimed: "My sin is before me constantly" (51:5). We share our lives with our G-d -- both our prides and our misgivings. G-d is our confidante. He is the one we tell our secrets to. For if we can't share them with G-d, whom truly do we have?

When we open our prayer books and stand before G-d, if we put so much as a moment's thought into what is happening (we usually don't), it should be an awe-inspiring experience. The G-d of the heavens and the earth is literally brushing aside the praises of the angels in favor of what Dovid Rosenfeld has to say to Him. We should be terrified, speechless. (At times we are. Some describe the shofar blast as the cry of Israel's deepest yearnings for G-d -- beyond what we are even able to put into words.) The Talmud refers to prayer as "a matter which stands at the height of the universe yet which people do not take seriously" (Brachos 6b).

(I've always thought it kind of amusing that our brains have sufficient dual-processing capability to read with our lips (and sometimes carry on conversations) while thinking about something utterly different. I guess it's yet another phenomenon G-d invented to make life challenging.)

After that inspiring introduction, we might almost find our prayer books a letdown. They are long and draining. There are so many rote prayers we must recite -- preferably in a language which is at best not our first -- that it is difficult enough to take the time to say all the words semi-articulately let alone understand what they all mean and let even more alone be inspired by them. We are obligated to say virtually the exact same prayers day in and out. How does one find inspiration in an activity which allows so little spontaneity and free expression?

The truth is that for much of the earlier part of Jewish history most of the prayers were not in their present standardized form (save the Shema, whose recitation is a Torah obligation). Even the most central part of our prayers, the Shemoneh Esrei, was formulated by the Men of the Great Assembly (see earlier 1:1) during the last few centuries B.C.E. (rather recent by our standards). For that matter, some of the real classics, such as the Passover Haggadah, only reached their present forms far more recently.

The reason for this is because ideally, our prayers should not have to be set out before us. They should be guided by our own inspiration. A person should know him- or herself well enough to know just what his needs are and what he must say to his G-d. The Hebrew word for "pray" -- "hitpalail" -- is reflexive, meaning literally to reflect oneself. When we pray we turn inwards as much as out. We touch our souls and allow them to touch our G-d. We communicate not only with the G-d outside of ourselves, but equally with that small piece of G-d within.

Thus, originally prayer was as it should be -- inspirational, self-motivated, reflecting what each individual knew he or she had to express at that moment. However, as the generations wore on, people became less in touch with themselves and their needs. They lacked the self-awareness to discover G-d wholly on their own. And so, the Sages found it necessary to institutionalize the prayers. We could no longer formulate the prayers ourselves, and so the Sages drew up the outline. Prayer slowly became set and formalized. We were given the perfect -- if standardized -- formula for what to ask G-d, when to ask, and how.

Thus, in a way we are blessed to have been handed such structure in our prayers. Yet neither should the original intention be missed. Jewish law enjoins us to add our own words in the appropriate places of our prayers (see Shulchan Aruch OC 119:1). We should want to add a little, to speak in our own tongue and include G-d in our daily hopes and fears. There are Chassidim who make it a practice to speak to G-d during the course of their days -- at any time and in their own language. (You might remember that from Fiddler on the Roof. I actually found those scenes quite touching.) This might seem intimidating to many of us (myself included) – probably for fear that G-d might actually be listening. In a way it's comforting to know G-d is there with us -- but it many ways, it's frightening. G-d might be in the synagogue and study hall, but to think that He's there with us at all times, paying attention to our every word and thought – that is not easy to live with.

But whether or not we wish to be reminded of this reality does not alter the facts. For better or worse G-d is before us. He hears our thoughts and our prayers, and the lines of communication are continuously open. It is we who must be prepared to use them.

[muman613]

http://www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter2-18b.html

Prayer - Universal
Chapter 2, Mishna 18(b)
By Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld

"Rabbi Shimon said: Be careful with the recitation of the Shema and the prayers. When you pray, do not regard your prayers as a fixed obligation but rather as [the asking for] mercy and supplication before G-d, as the verse states, 'For gracious and merciful is He, slow to anger, great in kindness, and relenting of the evil decree' (Joel 2:13). Do not consider yourself wicked in your own eyes."

Last week we discussed the concept of prayer, and in particular how it addresses man's need both for structure and for individuality in his religious expression. This week I'd like to turn to an equally fundamental and quite fascinating aspect of prayer: its application to both Jew and Gentile.

We find firstly prayer to be a universal concept -- one not exclusively the domain of the Jews. In Isaiah G-d promises us that in the End of Days "...My house (the Temple) will be called a house of prayer to all the nations" (56:7). Clearly, prayer is applicable -- and meaningful -- to all of G-d's creations (although various high-ranking members of other religions have been arrogant enough -- and stupid enough -- to claim that G-d does not hear the prayers of the Jews).

We find further that on occasion a Gentile is obligated to pray to G-d. R. Moshe Feinstein was widely regarded as the greatest rabbi in the United States in the decades after the War until his passing in 1986. He wrote in response to a query (Igros Moshe O"C 2:24) that it is his belief that a Gentile is obligated to pray to G-d in his time of need. He explained: From where does such an obligation stem? As we know, there are Seven Noahide Laws -- not to kill, steal, commit adultery, etc.; prayer is not one of them?

To this R. Moshe explained, the first of the Seven Laws is belief in G-d. If one truly believes in G-d (and understands the implications of such a belief), he recognizes G-d to be the only True Cause of all that occurs in this world. G-d both directs our lives and personally concerns Himself with our fates. Anyone who truly believes this will naturally turn to G-d in his or her time of need. Who else is there to turn to? All human and natural remedies are but agents of G-d's will. Although of course we are obligated to avail ourselves of all practical means of helping ourselves, our fate ultimately lies in G-d's hands alone. Man's obligation to pray is thus a corollary of his belief in G-d. Anyone with any real sort of understanding of who G-d is will naturally turn to prayer when he needs a helping Hand.

There is, however, one critical difference between the concept of prayer as it pertains to the Gentile versus the Jew -- and it will open up for us an important window into a much more fundamental distinction. Based on what we wrote above, say a Gentile does not have a time of need (or at least doesn't think he does) -- for days, weeks, months. He does not feel he has anything in particular to say to G-d. Is he obligated to pray? Apparently not. A Gentile certainly *can* pray if he wants. But if he feels no compelling reason or urge to pray, he would be exempt. G-d, to be sure, is receptive to the prayers of Gentiles. He is there for them and is more than ready to hear their pleas and concerns -- if they would only make the effort. But He does not force them.

We, however, are forced.

There is an obligation for every Jew to pray at least once a day. Even if nothing is wrong -- we feel we have nothing in particular to say to G-d (in itself reason to start praying), G-d insists that we stand before Him daily. We have a relationship with G-d; it must be constantly maintained and developed. It is not the "foul weather" one of the Gentile. We relate to G-d in both our bad times and our good. We see all as stemming from G-d, and we so turn to Him at all times -- with our gratitude, our concerns, and our regrets. Further, we have a mission to G-d and to mankind. We must constantly realign ourselves with that mission and orient our lives accordingly.

Thus, our relationship with G-d is ongoing and continual. It is a relationship we may never ignore. We *must* have something to say to our G-d. And if the words fail us, the Sages have provided us with the outline with which to begin. For we must constantly face our G-d, for only through this can we face ourselves and face our destinies.

There is yet another critical difference between the prayer of the Jew and the Gentile -- one which sheds even further light on the different relationships we have with G-d. King Solomon, at the dedication of the First Temple, offered prayers to G-d on behalf of Israel and the Temple (see I Kings, Chapter 8). In Verse 39 he asked that G-d hear the prayers of His nation: "...and You shall give to the man [who prays to you] as all his ways (i.e., all he asks for), for You know his heart..." Solomon continues (41-43): "And also to the Gentile... who hears of Your great name, Your strong hand, and Your outstretched arm, and he comes and prays to this house, shall You listen from the Heavens Your dwelling, and do everything for which he calls to You, so that all the nations of the world will know Your Name..."

The commentators note a discrepancy in King Solomon's language (see Rashi to Genesis 27:28). Regarding Israel, Solomon asked that G-d hear our prayers, but only as He "knows our hearts" -- only if the prayers are sincere and the petitioner deserving. Regarding the nations, however, Solomon asked that G-d does "everything for which he calls to You" -- evidently, whether he deserves it or not. Solomon wanted G-d's Name elevated in the eyes of the Gentiles. Always answer them, he prayed. They should see Divine Providence in action. Let them know You are a G-d who hears -- and responds.

Regarding us there are no such assurances. We are not answered as a matter of course -- or at least the answer might be no. We, the descendants of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, are far stronger in our faith. If G-d seemingly does not respond to our pleas, we will neither reject Him nor fail to recognize Him as the sole Master of the universe. We will see the shortcoming as within ourselves -- that the G-d who hears all prayers expects more from us before He responds -- or knows that what we ask for is not in our best interests. And we will persevere in our faith regardless.

Thus, in a way the nations of the world have it easier. G-d makes fewer demands on them. He is there for them and always responds to them -- at least in periods when His Temple stood. (The Midrash states that if the nations had any idea how much harm they were doing *themselves* by destroying the Temple, they would have encircled it to protect it (Bamidbar Rabbah 1). Today, sadly, the cords which bind the physical and spiritual realms are far more tenuous.)

We, however, have no such assurance. G-d gives to us and provides for us, but He expects in return: it is not for free. The blessings and closeness come with awesome responsibility. Our Father in Heaven does not just give; He warns, rebukes, and withholds as well. Our relationship is thus far more demanding, but potentially, far more rewarding. We might even say that our G-d *does* always answer us as well -- there is no such thing as a prayer ignored -- but that He expects us to be mature enough to understand that the answer might just be no.

[muman613]

Dooming Ourselves
Chapter 2, Mishna 18(c)
By Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld

"Rabbi Shimon said: Be careful with the recitation of the Shema and the prayers. When you pray, do not regard your prayers as a fixed obligation but rather as [the asking for] mercy and supplication before G-d, as the verse states, 'For gracious and merciful is He, slow to anger, great in kindness, and relenting of the evil decree' (Joel 2:13). Do not consider yourself wicked in your own eyes."

For the past two classes we have been discussing some of the basic themes of prayer. This week I would like to tie this in to R. Shimon's final statement -- that we not consider ourselves wicked. I believe it contains a fascinating psychological insight -- and one closely connected to the concept of prayer.

To begin with, we can certainly appreciate R. Shimon's final statement in its own right. One who considers himself wicked will likely live up (down?) to his expectations. If we see ourselves as rotten, as failures in life, very little will inhibit us from sinning even further. We are already doomed; there is no hope for us -- so we might as well enjoy ourselves while we're at it.

The correct attitude, certainly, is that no matter who I am and how many faults I have, I am basically a good person. I am a human being fashioned in the image of G-d. He endowed me with wonderful good qualities, and He has challenged me with many faults which I must overcome. As many sins as I have, I am not evil. I am a good person, just one who sometimes fails.

The Talmud (Chagigah 15) tells us of one of the great scholars of the Mishna, named Elisha. As a result of dabbling too deeply in Kabbalah, as well as having other faults, he embraced heresy -- and proceeded to live a life of sinful indulgence. He became known euphemistically as "achair" -- literally, "another". The Talmud writes that at the time he defected from Torah observance, a voice emanated from the Heavens (or so he imagined) stating: "'Return, wayward children' (Jeremiah 3:14) -- except for Achair." G-d no longer wanted him or anticipated his repentance. And so, he reached the self-evident and self-serving conclusion: "Now that I've lost the World to Come, I might as well at least enjoy myself down here" -- which he proceeded to do -- with great gusto.

Even so, Achair was a Torah scholar of the highest caliber. The Talmud there records how R. Meir, great scholar of the Mishna, used to follow behind Achair -- while he was riding his horse on the Sabbath -- to study Torah from him. (This merely further validates the known phenomenon that accomplishment in Torah may have very little to do with closeness to G-d.) On one such occasion, Achair told his student, "You can follow me no further. I have measured with my horse's footsteps, and we have reached the limit one is allowed to travel outside of the city on the Sabbath!"

This is virtually the only known case of serious defection among the scholars of the Mishna. (It, by the way, does not speak highly of Kabbalah study for the ill-prepared. Achair was far more prepared than the "Kabbalah center" students of today. But then again, he was actually studying the real stuff.) Yet Achair's story is in essence the theme of our mishna -- the danger of seeing oneself as a failure, as someone so sinful G-d could not possibly love.

At the same time, it's important to grasp just how psychologically gratifying such a belief is. G-d does not care about me? In a way, enormously depressing. I am alone and unloved in an uncaring world. There is not even an all-compassionate Deity to fall back upon. But then again, it lifts a great burden off my shoulders. The great inner turmoil which is the fate of conscientious man is removed from me. There is no struggle physical versus spiritual, selfishness versus selflessness. If G-d doesn't care about *me*, He certainly does not care what I *do*. And so, there is no reason to struggle with myself or to repress any of my basest desires. Nobody cares what I do -- so why not do it? There is no fancy or indulgence I must repress -- save at most that which my fellow or society will not tolerate (today precious little).

Thus, in a way, we would just love to believe G-d has forgotten about us or has just given up on us. Nobody even *wants* me to behave. As ludicrous as this is from a theological standpoint -- that an all-knowing, all-loving and long-suffering G-d would actually "give up" on someone ("By My life, says the L-rd G-d, do I want the death of the wicked one, but rather his repentance from his way that he may live" (Ezekiel 33:11)), it is so enticing a belief, that in our insanity we sometimes convince ourselves it is true. (The Theory of Evolution immediately comes to mind. There is no loving or caring G-d. Life is one grand accident.) The world is empty and meaningless, but within it I am totally free.

Thus, again, R. Shimon's words are invaluable in their own right: We must never give up on ourselves. In addition, however, I believe it has important relevance to the subject of prayer. It is possible to pray -- and to pray well -- and to fall into the exact same trap: I am a hopeless sinner who can turn only to G-d for salvation. Prayer is a form of self-deprecation before the L-rd: "Only You can help me, G-d. My life, my very existence is worthless and pathetically hopeless. I pray to You and await Your salvation. I could not go for a moment without You." Inspiring humility or hopeless laziness? Is prayer no more than a means of giving up on ourselves and asking G-d to pick up the pieces?

Equally sinister: Humbling oneself too much before G-d might be a means of self-debasement rather than self-improvement. As my teacher R. Yochanan Zweig (www.talmudicu.edu) observed, when we talk too freely and openly about how lowly we are, it becomes a means of getting used to ourselves -- almost of telling G-d to accept us for whom we are. We would almost like to confide in our G-d -- as one confides in a psychologist -- telling Him how lowly we are so that we can relieve the guilt from our chests.

Unfortunately, however, prayer is not the confessional. We do not pray to assuage our guilt feelings, to talk ourselves into how wicked and irredeemable we are. Prayer must be our means of pulling ourselves out of it.

Perhaps for this reason R. Shimon warns us not to view ourselves as overly wicked. Although as he just stated we must pray intensely and regularly, we should never take ourselves too seriously! It is true that we require much Divine mercy and we have much to apologize for. But don't turn your life into a vicious cycle of sin -- guilt -- confession. Do not use prayer as a means of self-debasement. We pray because we require G-d's help, but as they say, the L-rd helps those who help themselves. And so, to state it more accurately, we pray because we know that we *can* do something about our faults -- and because we know that with G-d's help we will manage to get there.

[muman613]

Today is fifteen days, which is two weeks and one day of the Omer.




Day One of Week 3 (15th day of omer): Chesed of Tiferet

Examine the love aspect of compassion.

Ask yourself: Is my compassion tender and loving or does it come across as pity? Is my sympathy condescending and patronizing? Even if my intention is otherwise, do others perceive it as such? Does my compassion overflow with love and warmth; is it expressed with enthusiasm, or is it static and lifeless?

Exercise for the day: When helping someone extend yourself in the fullest way; offer a smile or a loving gesture.

[muman613]

Let us continue learning the wisdom of Pirkie Avot (Ethics of the Fathers)...

These two videos from Rabbi Machlis should be interesting:






Just got around to it, and it seems the 2nd video is missing the audio...

PS: The new video also has poor sound quality, and the video is not too hot either.

[muman613]

This just may be the last post I make this evening. Rabbi Mizrachi gives a 20 part series of 1hr+ videos on Pirkie avot..

[muman613]

Shalom,

Thank goodness my friend left before it got too late to post in my threads...

[muman613]

Today is sixteen days, which is two weeks and two day of the Omer.



Day One of Week 3 (16th day of omer): Gevurah of Tiferet

For compassion to be effective and healthy it needs to be disciplined and focused. It requires discretion both to whom you express compassion, and in the measure of the compassion itself. It is recognizing when compassion should be expressed and when it should be withheld or limited. Discipline in compassion is knowing that being truly compassionate sometimes requires withholding compassion. Because compassion is not an expression of the bestower's needs but a response to the recipient's needs. Am I more compassionate with strangers than with close ones? If yes, why? Is the compassion coming from guilt? Does my compassion for others compromise my own needs? Am I helping others at the expense of helping myself? Perhaps the contrary is the case: Does my compassion for my family and close ones overshadow others needs? Is my compassion impulsive and careless? Do I assess the measure of compassion necessary for a given situation? Is it commensurate with the recipient's needs? Can I possibly be hurting him with my compassion? Does my compassion overwhelm others? Is it respectful? Do I give too much or too little? Do others take advantage of my compassionate nature? When I see a needy person do I impetuously express compassion out of guilt or pity without any discretion? Do I commit the "crime" of compassion by helping him with something harmful (give him money to buy a harmful substance etc.)? Do I apply myself to determine this person's needs and help him in the best way possible?

Exercise for the day: Express your compassion in a focused and constructive manner by addressing someone's specific needs.

[muman613]

Today is seventeen days, which is two weeks and three day of the Omer.



Day Three of Week 3 (17th day of omer): Tiferet of Tiferet

Examine the compassion of compassion. The expression of compassion and its intensity. True compassion is limitless. It is not an extension of your needs and defined by your limited perspective. Compassion for another is achieved by having a selfless attitude, rising above yourself and placing yourself in the other person's situation and experience. Am I prepared and able to do that? If not, why? Do I express and actualize the compassion and empathy in my heart? What blocks me from expressing it? Am I locked in any way? Is my compassion compassionate or self-serving? Is it compassion that comes out of guilt rather than genuine empathy? How does that affect and distort my compassion? Test yourself by seeing if you express compassion even when you don't feel guilty. Does my compassion come from a sense of duty or is it frivolous? On the other hand: Is my compassion alive; does it resound with vitality, or is it expressed only out of obligation? Is my compassion only a result of being a creature of habit who feels badly when another suffers, or do I actually apply myself to examine and refine my compassion, observing it's limitations and forms of expression? How do I express compassion? Is my compassion beautiful? Is it well rounded? Does it contain the other six elements of tiferet, without which my full compassion remains unrealized.

Exercise for the day: Express your compassion in a new way that goes beyond your previous limitations: express it towards someone to whom you have been callous.