Last Friday, our family had some unexpected drama. Shortly before Shabbat, I dropped off my son Yossi in Durham, where he spent Shabbat with his classmates at Chabad of Duke University. While it was getting close to Shabbat, I had a Shabbat package with Challah Dassy had baked, a note and bottle of wine that I wanted to drop off at someone who we knew was going through a challenging time.

Weaving through some rush-hour traffic, I estimated that even with the stop, I would get home about 10 minutes before sundown (it’s preferred to light Shabbat candles 18 minutes before sundown as a buffer, but have until sundown to complete tasks not permitted on Shabbat if necessary). That narrow window is certainly too close for comfort for almost any other week, but given the nature of the circumstance and hoping it would brighten someone’s Shabbat, I took the chance.

I managed to drop off the package, gave a quick but hearty “Shabbat Shalom” to the recipient and proceeded to drive home, still confident I would make it home with a few minutes to spare. That’s when my son Yoni started to scream, “we’re not gonna make it home in time!!”

“Why not? Shkiah (sunset) isn’t until 6:08 and we should definitely be home in time,” I responded.

That’s when he told me that sunset was actually at 5:59, not 6:08. I did the math in my head from when candle lighting was, and realized he was right. I glanced at the clock in the car. It was 5:58!

In all my years I don’t recall ever making such a miscalculation, but now was no time to question how I got the timing off! I quickly pulled into an apartment complex right off the street, placed my phone, wallet and car keys into the pocket of one of the seats in the middle row and turned off the car.

Only issue was that we were over 2 miles away from home and I had 3 of my kids, including 4-year-old Riva, with me. I davened the Mincha (afternoon) prayer and we began the chilly treck back home. (Please note that Jewish law mandates you violate Shabbat in a potentially life-threatening situation, but I did not determine this to fall under that category.)

As a parent, it’s these moments that kids tend to remember years later. Will their dad flip out at the mishap and turn into a ball of nerves (been there, done that!), making for a stressful experience or remain calm and set the tone for the ordeal being an enjoyable and memorable one?

I tried hard to opt for the latter. We sang songs, including the Lecha Dodi, told stories and joked around.

Thank G-d, after about an hour of walking, we returned home to a very anxious but relieved mother and wife! Thankfully, our car was still there when we returned to retrieve it after Shabbat the following night.

Jewish and Chassidic teachings impress on us that every detail of Creation is deliberately designed by G-d and that nothing is by chance. Everything that happens is directed by G-d and is, consequently, supposed to happen.

This is also true in instances of mistakes or us getting stuck in situations we didn’t expect or plan for (click here for an example of this during a snowstorm). Post facto, we can debrief or learn how to be better prepared or equipped for what transpired, but that doesn’t detract from the even being directly ordained by Hashem. In this instance, I was meant to deliver that care package, even if it meant having to walk home and miss shul that evening.

The Torah is also replete with teachings on the precious nature of Shabbat, including the second verse of this week’s Torah portion of Vayakhel, where we are instructed not to violate Shabbat even for important causes, such as the construction of the Mishkan (portable sanctuary used for over 400 years in the desert and Israel before the Holy Temple was built).

Shabbat is the bride of  Israel, the soul-mate of the Jewish people. It is one of the most powerful ways to actualize our Jewishness and pass it along to our children. We have remained true to the Shabbat in every place, culture and circumstance of our 4,000-year history has visited — from the glorious days to the darkest of night. In the words of a famous writer, “Even more than the Jews have kept the Shabbat, the Shabbat has kept the Jews.”

I encourage you to light the holy Shabbat candles today before sundown (and for today, to have the safety of those in Ukraine in mind while lighting the candles), to sit down to a festive Shabbat meal and spend some quality time connecting with those around us and with G-d!

There is a well known adage “if it bleeds, it leads.” For better or worse, negative press gets a lot more attention than positive one.

The same is true with anti-Semitism. Anti-Semitic Incidents need to be documented and reported, but should also be taken in context in terms of it thankfully being the exception and the norm in most places in the world (using your own experiences as a frame of reference can be useful with this.)

To that point, I have shared some rare (thank G-d) incidents that have occurred to me over the years, but have had a lot more positive ones that I tend to gloss over, perhaps because of the human tendency to have a negativity bias and also because the positive experiences  are generally not as dramatic.

For example, there have been a number of occasions, particularly over the past year, when a gentile has approached me to comment how s/he respects the Jewish people, the country of Israel or the values which we embody. My typical reaction is to warmly thank them for their support and respect, occasionally getting into a discussion about the 7 universal Noachide laws which were prescribed by G-d (to Adam and Noah) to give all humankind a moral and fulfilling life and afterlife. After the brief encounter,  the amicable discussion is generally forgotten.

But a few weeks ago a stranger’s Philo-Semitic act was too significant for me to gloss over.

I was with my kids at Duty Tire (an auto-repair shop), getting an oil change. During the wait we took a walk outside around the area before going back into the shop for a few minutes until the van was ready. During that time, I kept an eye on the kids while doing some light work I had brought.

When the car was ready and I went to the counter to pay, Chris from Duty Tire mentioned that the van needed new tires, which didn’t come as a shocker since congregant Ronald Green had pointed it out a week or so before then. I told him I would call him to make an appointment for the tires and left the shop with my kids.

About an hour later Chris calls me back. “One of our customers waiting in the shop at the same time you were there noticed you and your beautiful family and wanted to pay for the tires. So go ahead and make the appointment –it’s already been covered!”

I was shocked. This was no small but kind “pay it forward” gesture someone makes when they pay for the next person’s toll fare or coffee at the Starbucks drive-thru. This was a $600 gift from a total anonymous stranger who I didn’t even have a conversation with!

What would prompt someone to sponsor a stranger’s four tires?!

Not having the opportunity to speak with him or her, I would surmise that it stems from the same sentiment that would prompt a non-Jew to approach me to tell me how they respect me as a Jew. The person likely saw myself and my 4 children dressed as identifying Jews (and hopefully was impressed with their behavior and was motivated to do something to show his/her support for who we are and what we represent.

This display of Jew respect is not a recent phenomenon, in fact this week’s Torah portion alludes to it. In discussing the blessings that will come to fruition if the Jews obey G-d’s commandments, the Torah states:   And all the nations of the world will see that the Name of G-d is upon you and they will fear you ( Deuteronomy 28:10).

The Talmud explain that the verse refers to the Tefillin worn on the head, which displays the letter Shin, symbolizing G-d’s name.  Prior to the Six Day War, the Rebbe cited this verse in calling on Israeli soldiers and Jews around the world to spiritually assist in Israel’s security by praying with  Tefillin, even if they were not religious or rarely donned Tefillin. Tefillin are visible to the eye and have the spiritual power to inspire fear in the hearts of our enemies. Indeed, one of the most powerful images of the miraculous Six Day War, is of the Egyptian soldiers fleeing the Sinai in total disarray.

But I think that the words from the verse “and  all the nations of the world will see that the Name of G-d is upon you” can be applied beyond the Mitzvah of Tefillin. When non-Jews see that we and our children proudly identify as Jews by our appearance and behavior and that we are cognizant of our roles in being ambassadors of G-d, they deeply respect that. 

In the words of the late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, “Non-Jews respect Jews who respect Judaism, and they are embarrassed by Jews who are embarrassed by Judaism.”

As Rosh Hashanah approaches, it’s a great time to gauge our Jewish pride meter. Let’s look for opportunities to make a Kiddush Hashem — a public sanctification of G‑d, by openly identifying as proud and caring Jews.  While I can’t guarantee it will get you free tires, Jewish pride and self-respect will earn you the esteem and admiration of those around us, Jews and non-Jews alike.

Two days ago, I received a phone call from a woman in our community who needed some assistance. Her car had run out of gas right as she approached a turning lane to enter the highway. Dassy and I happen to have a gasoline container (don’t we all run out of gas at some point in our life!)  and I still had a little time before Hebrew School began, so I drove to a gas station to fill up the container and easily located the immobile vehicle.

Filling up the car, however, turned out to be a more difficult task. I tried adjusting the nozzle so the gas would come out, but nothing came out. After numerous attempts, I elected to unscrew the cap and pour the gasoline from the container into small empty water bottle I had in my car.

Pouring from the container into the bottle into the gas tank proved to be a lengthy task. I didn’t do the math at the time, but with a two-gallon container containing 256 ounces of gasoline, that translated into 32 transfers from the small 8-ounce water bottle I had, with a good dose of it spilling on my hand and onto the ground (I google “how to remove the smell of gas” later that evening and tried a vinegar/baking soda compound with limited success!)

Thankfully, the car returned to life and I made it back just in time for Hebrew School. But as I was pouring what seemed like endless rounds of gas from the container to the bottle into the gas tank, I was reminded of a story from this Shabbat’s Haftorah which tells about the plight of a widow who was heavily in debt. Sadly, her creditors were threatening to take her two sons as slaves to satisfy the high debt. When the Prophet Elisha asked her what she had in her home, the widow responded that she had nothing but a small jug of oil. Elisha told her to borrow as many empty containers as possible. She should then pour the oil from her jug into the empty vessels. She did as commanded, and miraculously the oil continued to flow until the last empty jug was filled. The woman sold the oil for a handsome profit, and had enough money to repay her debts and live comfortably. In my slightly less dramatic 21st century rendition, the gas kept pouring and the car had enough gas to drive comfortably home (though it probably needed a proper filling soon after!)

One of the beautiful components of our Torah is that in addition to the literal takeaways’ that we can glean from its stories, there are layers of deeper lessons contained within them as well. There is a beautiful Kabbalistic interpretation of the story of the oil that the first Chabad Rebbe shared about 250 ago. The Rebbe used this story as a metaphor in guiding one of his disciples who confided to him that he felt apathetic and cold towards serving G-d and the Torah.

The Rebbe expressed that the relationship between us and G-d is offered compared to a husband and wife. To follow the story line, our soul cries out about her husband’s death—the death of her divine G-dly spark. There are times in our life when we felt a passionate love and fear towards G-d, but now that flame is completely extinguished and feels “dead”.

Even worse, cries the  soul , “the creditor, has come to take my two sons as slaves.” The creditor is our unholy inclinations, and the children refer to the passions of love and awe that we possess. Rather than feeling emotion towards G-d, they have been redirected towards unhealthy temptations and cravings.

So G-d (so to speak) responds to us, “What have you in your house?”: What part of you has not been hijacked by the animal soul? What is left “inside your soul?”

And the response is, “We have nothing except a small jar of oil.”

Oil represents the essence of our soul and the core of our human identity. Even when we are emotionally and spiritually drained, this core can never be taken from us.

Now, the prophet  Elisha  turns to the widow and says, “Go borrow as many empty containers as possible!”

Empty and borrowed vessels serve as a metaphor for uninspired robot-like positive Mitzvot and actions that are empty of passion and enthusiasm, actions which we could never call “our own” since our heart and  soul are not present in these actions.

We are advised to continue to perform G-dly, moral and sacred deeds, many good and G-dly deeds, even if they seem borrowed and empty to us. These good deeds will generate the love and passion that we’ve been longing for.

This is a beautiful metaphor not just in our relationship with G-d, but in our marriage and other interpersonal relationships as well. In life, we often expect that our emotions should fuel our actions. Emotions are a huge part of our life and express our personality, but the Torah is telling us that they shouldn’t be in the driver’s seat to dictate how we act.

Think of two people in struggling with an empty marriage (obviously not referring to an abusive or toxic situation.) As difficult as it can be, rather than to keep waiting for the emotions to kick in, take the initiative to act lovingly, though you may feel that your spouse is a burden. Fill your life with thousands of empty vessels, with numerous acts of “borrowed love” in which your own heart is not present. Whether it’s expressed through roses, washing the dishes, putting the kids to sleep, arranging a “date night” or writing a card, these “empty” acts can and will jumpstart the passion.

As for a closed-heart parent attempting to connect to his or her children — approach your children, embrace them and tell them how you much love them. Your heart may be locked, and your emotions stifled — it does not matter. We want empty vessels. As many empty vessels as we can get.

It may not be possible to live a lift of perpetual inner vitality and inspiration; but we can strive to fill our lives with empty vessels, with a schedule saturated with meaningful acts and experiences. Wishing you many joyous returns on your investment!

I walked into the social hall this past Monday to pick up my kids after camp was over for the day. A camper who I know from camp and Hebrew School approached me and said “don’t move!”

Confused as to why she wanted me to stand still, I asked what she meant by that. She responded, almost pleading, “don’t move to Florida. Not you and not your family!”

I was honored by her sincere plea (and a bit sad at not being able to grant her the request).

I must have been thinking about those words “don’t move,” because the next day as I was studying the weekly Torah portion (as divided into 7 daily sections) I came across someone demanding the opposite, “move it!” When the demand wasn’t heeded, the person proceeded to continuously strike the victim.

The aggressor was Bilaam, the non-Jewish prophet commissioned by the Moabite King Balak to curse the Jewish people. The victim was Bilaam’s donkey, who refused to budge while traveling to Balak because, unbeknownst to Bilaam, an angel of G-d was blocking the way. Bilaam was not privy to seeing the angel, but the donkey was.

After the scene of the hapless donkey getting whipped repeated itself 3 times, G-d opened the mouth of the donkey, allowing her to speak, assuming the role of a spokescreature for animal rights. 

The donkey exclaims, “What have I done to you that you have struck me these three times?!”

Rather than appear either surprised at his donkey speaking or contrite at beating the poor animal, Bilaam doubles down on his frustration and responds:

“For you have humiliated me (in front of Balak’s officers). if I had a sword in my hand, I would kill you right now!”

At that moment, G-d opens Bilaam’s eyes to actually see the angel blocking the path. It’s a frightening sight– this angel, sword drawn and all. Billam quickly dismounts, prostrates on the ground and changes his tone while confesses his sin. In a moment, Bilaam’s gets an extremme attitude makeover.

To an extent, we often face similar Bilaam moments. We have days where we are overwhelmed, more often than not (thank G-d) by everyday hassles rather than a major life crisis.  We get bogged down by the accumulative drip-drop of small-stressors, and before we know it, our ability to cope with the little stuff gets super challenging. We feel like we’re playing a game of psychological “whack-a-mole,” trying to put out the little fires, and sometimes it’s the one additional little annoyance that tends to set us off.

Yet sometimes we are privy to a Bilaam moment. Hashem opens our eyes and we are privy to realizing that things aren’t as overwhelming as they seemed just moments ago. 

Nothing has demonstrably changed; it’s just that what moments ago seemed insurmountable all of a sudden seems doable. Perhaps we are now aware of a helpful detail we weren’t privy of before, someone offers to lend a hand, etc.

The million-dollar question is, outside of those occasions where we are gifted with seeing that preverbial angel or “hand” of G-d, clearly realizing that Hashem is directing and orchestrating all of the events in our lives, how can we equip ourselves with the tools to come to that awareness on our own?

While I can’t fully encapsulate the lessons in this message, I can try to give a valuable tip, as incorporated into Jewish thought.

The 3rd Chabad Rebbe taught that the primary method of removing stress and worrying thoughts from our minds is by redirecting our mind toward other matters. In practice, this is done by distracting your mind with something positive, which not only deflates the negative feelings by not giving them attention but also leads to positive emotions.

In other words, when you notice an unwanted thought creep into your head, don’t just try to chase the thought away. That’s like trying to force ourselves not to think about a donkey being struck– our mind will gravitate towards the image! So rather than trying to chase the stressful though away, distract yourself by exchanging the thought for something more positive—which serves a dual purpose:

By investing yourself in a thought that calms you, the unwanted thought is discarded and the negativity that it brought will quickly dissipate. In its place is a positive thought that will shape your mood and life for the better. Filling your mind with a positive thought, and focusing on it, creates a positive feedback loop. The positive thinking directs the mind to positive things and activates positive emotions that create a positive posture, attitude, and feeling.

At this point, we can tend to (much more) objectively assess what’s going on in our life and be able to deal with the stress far more effectively and strategically.

At the end of yesterday’s weekly Torah class, someone asked me why we aren’t privy to major miracles like we were in Biblical times. I gave two answers, one of which was that if our internal antennaes are attuned to finding Hashem’s imprint in our daily lives, we will find many small miracles on a regular basis. 

For Bilaam, even though he was able to see things from the donkey’s perspective, it was ineffective; he kept following the way he wished to be led, and proceeded to attempt (unsuccessfully) to curse the Jewish people.

We can learn from his mistake. G‑d has given us something far, far superior to “Donkeyvision”: the challenge of thought-control and the gift of discernment.

“Keinahara!” I remarked, impressed that he looked a good decade younger than he was. “You look marvelous at 80!” And then I jokingly quipped,  “This place must be quite the luxurious retirement community!”

I expected him to respond as many inmates do, complaining (often justifiably) about the living conditions and the way they are treated,and that he’s in good health in spite of his undesirable residency, not because of it. Instead he answered, “actually, this place isn’t all that bad! I get free room and board, including Kosher meals. I have a running track a minute away from where I sleep, allowing me to exercise every day. And I’ve made some incredible friendships with the other inmates over the years, many of whom continue to stay in touch with me by mail long after they’ve been released​​​​, thanking me for helping them during them during some tough stretches in their lives. While I certainly didn’t request to be here, whether I choose to be miserable or content is truly my choice, and so much in life is a matter of perspective.”

I was impressed at his positive outlook and attitude, and told him how remarkable it was that he’s sharing this with me during the week we read Parshat Vayeishev, which relates how Joseph gets sold as a slave by his brothers and then gets falsely accused of a crime without any due process, landing him in jail for 12 years. Given his rough and seemingly unfair experiences, Joseph had all the justification to be a bitter, resentful and cynical young man, wanting to get back at the world for the cruelty he went through. Instead, he made the most out of his incredibly challenging situation, looking out for others who needed help, realizing that it was G-d who had placed him where he was, allowing him to be a beacon of light in a dark place. He exemplified the ever-enduring quality of the Jewish soul—the spark within each of us that not only can never be extinguished, but can actually ignite the souls of others. 

Chanukah serves as an annual reminder that we have been tasked with the important role our ancestor Joseph exemplified. May we bring light and happiness into others lives, illuminating our own life in the process.

While in Miami a few years ago, Dassy and I visited her grandparents, the Webermans, who founded a synagogue there in the early 1960’s and served as Rabbi and Rebbetzin until just a few years ago. Rabbi Weberman told me a story that happened to him in the early 1970’s when he encountered some opposition from another rabbi in the city pertaining to the standard in which to build a new mikvah. This other rabbi wanted to build it based on a lower standard of Jewish law and was giving Rabbi Weberman a really tough time in the process. After a bitter Rabbinic battle lasting for 3 years, Rabbi Weberman eventually was able to get the mikvah built based on the higher standard he had pushed for.

About 9 months later, Rabbi Weberman was in New York and had a private yechidut (audience) with the Rebbe. After recounting his mikvah struggles in the discussion, he mentioned that he would like to institute Kosher shechita (slaughter) in South Florida. The Rebbe liked the idea, but much to Weberman’s surprise, then proposed the following suggestion: “Involve this rabbi who fought against you. Make him one of the supervisors. Let him certify the meat.”

When Rabbi Weberman expressed his shock at the suggestion, wondering how a rabbi who wanted a lower Halalachic (Jewish law) standard be entrusted with such an importance task as overseeing the supervision of Kosher food, the Rebbe remarked that as long as you know you can trust the actual expertise and Halachic standards of the shochet (butcher), he doesn’t have to be overly concerned with that certifying rabbi. And then the Rebbe made the following remark, “We need to remember that these things (the Rebbe was referring to the Holy Temple being destroyed) happened because of unwarranted hatred between Jews. And how do you overcome unwarranted hatred? With unwarranted love. Now, can you find a better example of unwarranted love than turning to this person who fought against you?!”

This was the Rebbe, and he truly practiced what he preached. Even when being the subject of much vocal criticism from many in the religious world for his style of reaching out to those who were not yet religious (which only became more widespread later on), he didn’t take it personally. And while he never veered one iota from the principles of the Torah, he never made personal attacks on anyone, keeping to his non-judgmental, loving attitude towards others, often turning enemies into friends and allies.

It appears that the Rebbe took a page out of Yakov’s (Jacob’s) playbook, in an epic brotherly reunion recounted in this week’s Torah portion of Vayishlach, Yacov wasn’t naïve and knew that his brother Esav (Esau) hated him and intended to kill him. He was justly worried about the threat of violence. So he mapped out a three-pronged plan consisting of prayer, offering a lavish gift of a of hundreds of various cattle and livestock and prepared, as a last resort, for war.

Esav approached, accompanied by an army of 400 mercenaries. The showdown loomed. And then Yakov did something strange: He bowed down.  

He wasn’t prostrating himself in fear nor was he lowering himself into the ground to humiliate himself. Rather, Yakov was bowing out of genuine respect for the spiritual potential that Esav represented. Instead of concentrating on at all that was wrong about his brother, he deliberately looked for something to admire and, when he found it, he bowed his head. 

And Esav responded in kind. In place of the anticipated violence, Esav reciprocated with love. When faced with his brother bowing his head in respect, Esav raised Yakov up and kissed him. For the first time in decades they had a fraternal conversation and instead of bringing up old recriminations over stolen blessings, he ceded gracefully and validated Yakov’s claim to the firstborn rights.  

All of Yakov’s fears were proved groundless. Instead of the expected genocide, Esav expressed interest in the sisters-in-law and nephews he had never met and offered to accompany and protect Yakov on his travels.  

Like the Rebbe taught Dassy’s grandfather, Yakov showed that respecting someone costs you nothing. There are obviously exceptions with toxic relationships that need to be severed, but as a general rule, find something to honor about everyone you meet and give them that honor. Never be afraid to bow your head in respect even while demonstrating your own self-respect, bounderies and standards. Look out for ways to help others shine and, when you find their point of positivity, polish it until it shines. You’ll be surprised at your abilities to find a diamond in the rough!

It’s an interesting period for our family. Dassy and I still have the opportunity to serve in the role of spiritual leaders here in town. There’s a lot taking place within the shul and community, and we also feel a sense of urgency to spend some quality time with so many of you who made our 12-year journey here such a special one.

Then there is the need to prepare for our move to Florida later in the summer.  While there’s always a need to balance work and family life, the juggling act can sometimes feel daunting. We’re here in Raleigh with an eye towards embarking on our new life, with a new school, home, positions and community. What is an effective way to remain present and focused?

As some of our faithful readers may be accustomed do, I look to the weekly Parsha for guidance. This week’s portion of Beha’aloscha did not disappoint! There is a significant section that describes the travels of the Jewish people in the desert.

At the very center of the Israelite camp stood the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary that housed the Divine presence. Surrounding the Mishkan were the tents of the Kohanim and Levites who served in the Sanctuary, and beyond that, where the tent communities of the 12 tribes of Israel—three tribes to the east, three to the south, three to the west and three tribes to the north.

During their 40-year journey in the desert, the Jewish people sometimes stayed in one place for over a year and sometime only encamped for a single day.

What determined when it was time to pack up? Above the Mishkan hovered a cloud signifying the Divine presence which dwelled within it; when the cloud lifted, that was the sign that it was time to move on. There was no pre-set period for each encampment.

Yet even the very brief stops did not prevent the Jewish people from constructing the approximate 4,600 sq foot Mishkan with all of its heavy panels, sockets, posts and other structural components with the same diligence and focus on detail, as though they it would remain there for many years.

What gave them the encouragement to unpack, schlep and assemble the large and heavy Mishkan?  The awareness that the command was coming from a Higher Authority. When G-d tells you to build a structure, even if only for a few days or weeks, it loses the status of a temporary structure and gets upgraded to the status of a majesty, significant and lasting structure. After all, it is G-d who wants this to be put up!

What a powerful lesson in how we view each stage of our lives! If at every period of life, we are preparing for the next stage, when is the right time to be fully focused, happy, and content that I have reached my destination and that I’m not just preparing for the next stage of life?

Back to our case, the decision to leave was a very difficult one, as many of you know. Yet the awareness that Hashem has directed us to have our Mishkan, our dwelling place here in Raleigh for 12 productive years is truly gratifying. And the strong belief (after much deliberation and prayer) that Hashem is guiding our steps by sending us the signal to move to a new destination per our family’s needs while another dedicated couple assumes our role is invaluable.  

I want to share a story that powerfully highlights this point. In the mid 1920’s the Rebbe entered the apartment of his father-in-law and previous Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn (who our son is named after). The previous Rebbe was living in Leningrad at the time and was scheduled to leave for the train station just a few minutes later where he would travel to Moscow. The purpose of the trip was to meet with some foreign businessman to raise funds to support his underground network devoted to keeping Judaism alive throughout Soviet Russia.

The trip was fraught was danger as the previous Rebbe was constantly being watched and closely monitored by the NKVD (later known as the KGB). Spreading Judaism was strictly prohibited by the Communist regime. Indeed, a short time later, Schneersohn was arrested and sentenced to death for his “counter-revolutionary activities” (the Previous Rebbe  subsequently was miraculously spared and ultimately released from prison.)

When the son-in-law walked in, he was shocked to find the Previous Rebbe  working calmly at his desk, deeply immersed in thought, while writing a Torah essay, as if it were an ordinary day.

When the future Rebbe marveled at the extent of his ability to remain composed and focused in such trying of circumstances, his father-in-law responded:

“There is a concept called “hatzlocha in zeman,” success in time. We cannot make our days longer, nor can we add additional hours to our nights. But we can maximize our usage of time by regarding each segment of time as a world of its own. When we devote a portion of time—whether it is an hour, a day or a minute—to a certain task, we should be totally invested in what we are doing, as if there exists nothing else in the world.

You must of course be aware of the differences between important things and things of lesser importance, between means and ends, between journeys and destinations. But in whatever you are involved, you are fully there. You are never just “getting it done” or “getting it over with.” When you are on the way to something, you are fully invested in being on the way to something.”

Every segment of our lives, no matter how fleeting or temporary, has a center, a purpose, an objective: it is what G-d wants from me, now at this moment, hence it is not only an obstacle to get over, but possess meaning and magic all its own. It’s certainly a challenging lesson to pick up, but if we can be mindful of this even some of the time, we will view the many junctures of our lives in a more fulfilling and enriching manner. 

Wishing you much success in wherever your Mishkan is encamped! 

I came across an article a few days ago about a home for sale in Colorado Springs for $590,000. What was unique about the listing was the not so glowing terms in which the Realtor chose to describe the home, namely as “every landlord’s nightmare.” The listing continues “There is not one surface of the home that has not been enhanced with black spray paint or a swinging hammer.”  Damage (estimated between $150,000-$200,000) done by an angry departing tenant who didn’t want to pay rent. Do not go on back deck!”

The listing also included details about a meat-filled freezer that sat without power for a year. “Come feast your senses. Be sure to wear your mask. Not for anyone else’s protection but your own. You may not be able to endure the smell if you don’t.”

With a description like that, you may be wondering if there was any interest at all in this house. Yet, within three days of listing, the property got over 800 texts and email inquiries, including 22 actual offers in hand and 50 offers over text (given the state of the home, the Realtor wouldn’t accept any offers without the potential buyer first seeing the house). It ended up selling well over the asking price.

What would generate such incredible interest from such a decrepit home? On a practical level, the housing market in Colorado Springs, similar to here in Raleigh and many other parts of the country, is hotter than ever. With high demand and low supply, buyers are even snapping up homes that leave much to be desired. 

But perhaps the seasoned Realtor (who also has a degree in psychology) knows a thing or two about the mindset of a potential buyer. While there is no denying that we appreciate moving into a gorgeous turn-key home that looks amazing from the get-go, there is also something profoundly satisfying about taking a neglected, “fixer-upper” property and giving it an abundance of personal TLC by renovating it to your satisfaction. Once the daunting job is finished, contrasting the “before” pictures with the “after” ones is truly gratifying.

And that segues us into a question that I’ve been asked this week about this week’s Torah portion of Balak. To give a quick preface, Balak , the king of Moab, summons the prophet Bilaam to curse the people of Israel.  On three separate occasions,  Bilaam attempts to pronounce his curses; each time, beautiful blessing issue forth instead. Bilaam also gives prophesies on the end of days and the coming of Moshiach.

Portions of the blessings uttered by Bilaam have been instituted into our daily prayers (such as the Ma Tovu prayer) and are referenced in many other sources. The question posed was the following: Bilaam is not viewed as a hero or holy figure in the Torah and its many commentaries. On the contrary, he is considered one of the greatest villains and rabid anti-Semites in the Torah. Though he failed in his mission thanks to G-d forcing him to transmit blessings instead of curses, he was thrilled at the prospect of being able to harm the Jews. Yet, it is the words uttered from his mouth that are so cherished in our heritage. Is there really a shortage of eloquent blessings uttered by righteous prophets, prophetesses, and G-d himself that would require us to raise Bilaam’s blessings to such a high pedestal? Furthermore, why give the honor of naming this week’s portion “Balak”, who was no friend of the Jewish people and was the one who commissioned Bilaam to curse the Jews?

In short, this Torah portion embodies the power of transformation. Bilaam’s blessings are so profound because they originated as curses. Their transformation is so absolute that they describe the ultimate transformation of the entire world: the era of Moshiach! Moreover, Balak himself embodies this very transformation. The Talmud relates that the Biblical figure Ruth, who transformed her own life by converting to Judaism and merited to become the great-grandmother of King David, was a direct descendant of Balak. Moshiach, who will usher in the era of ultimate transformation and redemption, will come from the lineage of King David And so, the person charged with transforming the Jewish people and the entire world—Moshiach—is a direct descendant of Balak! That’s about the greatest transformation possible.

And perhaps we can apply this lesson to that cursed house in Colorado Springs. What some people will see as a condemned home beyond repair will be seen by others as a gem in the rough, waiting to be transformed into a beautiful dwelling place. 

There are many takeaways we can apply from the story. One is how we view the world at large. The Rebbe taught us that despite all of the uncertainty and problems impacting the world and society at large, the world is not a cruel, chaotic and meaningless place. The world is G‑d’s garden, and has been in the process of being transformed from a wasteland to an oasis of beauty by virtue of the seeds of goodness and kindness that we sow. We each have the power to define and influence our experience based on our perception.

On a personal level, transforming ourselves and our mindset is not easy. When we feel that we’re in a rut or cut off from our potential, try to focus on our inner redemptive qualities. Transform our negative self-talk and become our greatest advocate to bring more goodness into our lives and the world at large. Because what lies within us truly are diamonds.

Yesterday was mine and Dassy’s 11th wedding anniversary (interestingly, both the Jewish and Gregorian date fell out on the same day). I was reminiscing a bit about the week following our wedding, where there were festive meals each day, known as Sheva Brachot. I recalled being asked to speak at one of those meals where friends and family were present, and trying to incorporate the weekly Torah portion of Ekev with the institute of marriage (and with my two days of marriage experience at that stage, I knew I’d be a great resource to share some knowledge in that field!). I shared a story I heard from a lecture given by Rabbi YY Jacobson, in which a husband was meeting with the Lubavitcher Rebbe. During the meeting, he was lamenting the fact that he felt that he was too religious for his wife and that it was driving a wedge in their marriage. The Rebbe sensed that the situation wasn’t as black and white as the manner in which the man was presenting it and that he was only hearing half of the story. In the middle of the discussion, the Rebbe summed up what he thought the self-righteous husband was trying to impart and threw in this tongue in cheek synopsis (not having a written transcript of this, I am paraphrasing the discussion). “So you’re saying that you are more religious than your wife and therefore, the argument isn’t just between you and your wife, but rather between you and your wife with G-d on your side.”

“Yes, that’s exactly right!” the husband exclaimed, not grasping the Rebbe’s sarcasm with his comment.

“So here’s what I would advise you,” continued the Rebbe. “You need your wife to realize that your religiosity is not about you trying to you trying to one-up her and show your spiritual superiority over her. You need her to realize that your scrupulousness in Torah is truly altruistic in nature as opposed to her thinking that it’s a convenient tool for you to pull out when she needs your help or presence in any area. I suggest that you take on a Mitzvah that may be a bit challenging for you and to perform it to the highest standard. I believe that once she sees that you are observing a more difficult mitzvah, than she will also appreciate the other mitzvot that you perform. The Mitzvah that I would recommend you begin with is to honor your wife. Maimonides writes that a husband should honor his wife even more than honor he accords to himself, love her as much as he loves himself and should speak with her gently and not harshly. If you start with keeping this mitzvah to the highest degree, then I am confident that many of the problems you are facing will be addressed.”

Suffice it to say that his marriage took a major turn once he took that advice to heart. For another encounter the Rebbe had with a woman feeling that she was feeling her marriage was suffering due to her husband not being as observant as she was, click here).

I shared that story in connection with the Torah portion that week (and this week), Parshat Ekev, which begins with the words, “”Vehaya eikev tishme’un…” The literal translation is “Because of your listening to these commandments” (you will merit the blessings which the Torah goes on to enumerate).

In addition to the word eikev meaning “because of”, eikev can also mean “heel.” The commentator  Rashi explains that the verse is alluding to the “light” commandments, the seemingly less important  mitzvot which people tend to “trample with their heels.” The type of things which all too easily fall by the wayside. We all know about the “major” commandments, such as eating Matzah on Passover, keeping  kosher, or fasting on  Yom Kippur, things like that. What about the smaller details? Are we as careful?

While marriage is certainly not a “small mitzvah” by any standards, the fact that a couple lives together and spends a great deal of time together can also contribute to one underestimating the importance of always being respectful to the other, as opposed to respectfully not agreeing on every issue that arises. So there is a susceptibility of treading on your spouses’ honor and speaking to him/her in a way you certainly wouldn’t speak to a superior or even a co-worker or friend.

This Mitzvah certainly transcends the arena of relationship between husband and wife or any interpersonal relationship. There are many sources in the Torah that associate our relationship with G-d as a marriage. And like in any relationship, especially one where two individuals are living with each other, there are the easier and enjoyable ways to connect and show one’s affection and the more difficult ones. Think of the proverbial example where one spouse asks the other not to squeeze the toothpaste from the top of the tube!

We all have those mitzvot that we cherish and love, perhaps it’s having an intimate Shabbat meal with family, a weekly Torah class (like Caffeine for the Soul) in person or through Zoom, celebrating Chanukah by lighting the Menorah, or showing up to shul to connect with Hashem and then connect with others at the kiddush (may we soon return to those times!) It’s so beautiful and important to have mitzvot that you are passionate about. But it’s also important to work on an area or our relationship with G-d that doesn’t come easy, whether it’s in the realm of praying, keeping Kosher, Shabbat or a myriad of other connection points which enhance our relationship with the Almighty. It’s also important to remember that almost every mitzvah, connection point, is not an all-or-nothing proposition, so if you work on trying to observe some areas of Kosher or Shabbat, that’s a wonderful way to show your devotion to those Mitzvot which may have been stepped on until now. I’m here to help you with working on any Mitzvah, whether through a discussion or through giving you books or other resources.

So let’s not forget those little things, because to someone else or to G-d, they are incredible ways of demonstrating our love and commitment.

Last week an historic meeting of sorts took place in Turkey. 38 Chabad and non-Chabad Rabbis from across a dozen Muslim countries, including Iran, Egypt, Tunisia and United Arab Emirates, met in Istanbul’s Conrad hotel for the inaugural conference of the Alliance of Rabbis in Islamic States (ARIS).  Around 100,000 Jews still live in Muslim-majority countries (down from over a million a century ago), and the conference was geared to network and discuss ways to support their respective Jewish communities across the Islamic countries.

Hours before the conference was set to begin, Mendy Chitrik, the chief Rabbi was Turkey and director of Aris, received a surprising phone call. The Turkish president Recep Tayyip Erdogan was sending his private plane to meet with the group at his presidential palace.

Upon arriving at his palace, the delegation was treated to a 4-course Glatt kosher dinner and in another first, davened Ma’ariv (evening prayers) at the palace. More importantly, the two hour dinner meeting addressed some important topics, including Turkish-Israeli relationships (Erdogan told the Rabbis that he values renewed dialogue with Israeli President Isaac Herzog and Prime Minister Naftali Bennett) and construction and renovations of synagogues in Turkey and Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus.

“The president has listened very gracefully to all of the rabbis, has spoken in very strong terms against antisemitism and Islamophobia and has reiterated the Turkish stance that denying the Holocaust is a crime against humanity,” Rabbi Chitrik later reported.

Rabbinical meetings with government officials, royal leaders and politicians is nothing new. But perhaps what was unique about this invitation is that is came from a president whose relations with the global Jewish community, especially Israel, has been very troubling for many years. In 2015 he stated that “Jewish capital” is behind the New York Times. During the Gaza tension this past May, he accused Israel of killing and sucking the blood of children who are as young as “five or six years old.”

Which begs the questions, given his troubling past, how do we know that we won’t see more of the old Erdogan in the coming months and years? Furthermore, was meeting with Erdogan the right thing to do? Perhaps rather than showing him respect they should have told him that they refuse to meet with a man who has a history of anti-Israel and anti-Semitic rhetoric. Where should one draw the line between diplomacy and condemnation?  

Perhaps we can take a lesson from this week’s portion of Va’era, where Moses has repeated face-to-face discussions with the rabid anti-Semite Pharoah and demands the Jews’ release from Egyptian slavery.

At one point in the portion, the Torah says that G-d instructs Moses to tell “Pharoah, The King of Egypt, to let the children of Israel out of the land of Egypt.”

Rashi quotes the Midrash in explaining why the Torah describes him as Pharoah the King of Egypt rather the Pharoah the tyrant.  This is because G-d was actually instructing Moses to speak respectfully to Pharoah. Yes, a man who has brutally enslaved the Jewish nation for nearly a century, and a man who G-d is about to infect with 10 harsh plagues on account of his cruelty is still warranting some degree of respect by virtue of his position as king. Additionally, there still was some gain to be had by speaking respectfully rather than screaming and cursing at him and calling him a dictator.

I find it interesting how G-d takes this nuanced approach. Yes, Pharoah has done unspeakable atrocities against the Jews. It cannot and should not be whitewashed or justified and it must stop NOW! If it doesn’t, painful consequences will be meted out. And yet, the best approach in speaking to this leader is still with respect and dignity.

Thankfully, we live in a world where we are finally able to campaign publicly against those who oppose us. However, the Rebbe expressed on many occasions (click here and here for two examples) that it is often counterproductive to publicly brand individuals as enemies or antisemites. Slow to shame and quick to engage is still an effective route. We must do everything possible to condition society to bring out the best in people rather than their more sinister elements.

Will we see more a more refined, Philo-semitic version of Erdogan in the future of more of the same? Only G-d knows. But if there’s one thing we have learned, we best influence others, both in the private and political arena through direct respectful dialogue (which includes not avoiding the uncomfortable issues) rather than by public condemnation. May our efforts bear fruit in making our world a more G-d oriented place.