Rabbi Yossi's Blog

I’m assuming you think that the letters FDIC stand for the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation. Or maybe as you’ve been following recent news you decided that it stands for Folly Driven Investment Choices. If you’re the more pessimistic type, you might think it’s a foreboding acronym like Financial Disaster Is Coming. But I’d like to think it’s an acronym that is reminding us to Find Divine Inspiration in Current events.

Whenever there’s a big financial crisis the questions often surround the regulators, were they properly doing their job? How were such risky decisions allowed? Often regulators are too easy on those who they are supposed to regulate. They trust and rely on them more than they should.

Truthfully though, no one should be above oversight. In fact, the Kohen handling the finances in the Temple wouldn’t be allowed to wear a garment with pockets or carry a bag into the Temple treasury so that no one could accuse them of pilfering communal funds. Even Moses was asked to provide an accounting of all the materials that were donated for the construction of the Temple and how they were allocated. 

The accounting that Moses provided is recorded in this week’s Torah portion and underscores the importance of behaving beyond reprove, no matter who one might be. 

But there’s something that to me is even more profound embedded in the textual structure of this week’s Torah portion. We read a double portion of the Torah this week, when two portions are combined and read at one time. The second portion, Pekudei, is the one which discusses the tabernacle donations accounting. In fact, the term Pekudei means “accounts”. 

The portion begins with the Hebrew word, אלה, (eiyleh), “these are”. Elsewhere the commentaries point out that when the verse begins with this word as it appears here, it dismisses the previous discussion and is beginning anew. As opposed to when the Hebrew letter vav is at the beginning of it, ואלה “v’eilah”, meaning “AND these are”, then it is adding to what was previously discussed.

The way this verse is configured implies that the focus is on the coming portion, not the previous. In other words, which accounts are meaningful and significant enough to report? Those that were used to construct the sanctuary. 

Which reminds me of the story of the 19th century philanthropist Sir Moses Montefiore. He was once asked what he was worth. He made a brief calculation and stated a number. The questioner was baffled, “Surely you’re worth much more than that!”

Sir Moses explained, “You didn’t ask how much I own, you asked my worth. What I own now could transfer to another's possession in a matter of minutes. What I’ve given to Tzedakah, to support those in need or to benefit the community, that’s my true worth and can never be taken away.

By configuring the verse as it does, our Torah portion implies that the money we give away is the most significant element of our net worth. Not how much we have invested, as we’ve seen recently that could turn upside down and be lost in no time. Not how much we have in our bank account. Rather how much we’ve given to others.

Perhaps FDIC stands for Funds Donated and Invested in Charity (or maybe that final C stands for Chabad)?

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

What is the best way to express a deep and passionate love? Sometimes the answer may well be by taking out the garbage and washing the dishes. Roses and chocolates may be nice, but they're superficial; the real expression of love is in the simple and even mundane acts that you do for the other.

Last week we read about the awesome revelation at Mount Sinai. Together as a people we witnessed direct divine revelation; no other group of people in history can lay claim to such an experience.

This week, though, we immediately learn about "earthly" laws: laws associated with business and dispute, laws of damages and laws of courts, laws of false promises and bribery. What a contrast - after being in such an inspired and elevated state, to deal with such mundane matters!

When we study Judaism a little deeper, we learn that although the elevated and inspired state is important, even more significant is to translate that inspiration into practice. The greater the inspiration and connection to G-d, the more profoundly affected should our physical lives be as well.

Despite the 49ers missing the cut, almost everyone I know plans to watch the Super Bowl this Sunday. It makes sense after all since the Super Bowl is the largest and most participated in annual religious experience in the US. 

Think about it: Just like a religion, it has its own rituals, and just like a religion, there are varying degrees of observance. There are those who not only watch the game, but spend an entire weekend at pre and post game parties; kind of like the people who spend the entire Yom Kippur in the synagogue. Then you have the people who just watch the game itself; that’s like those who just come to hear the shofar on Rosh Hashanah (or just for Yizkor on Yom Kippur). You even have the people who just watch the commercials - like the crowd that comes just for the kiddush (or the JFK Club as it’s called)!

That’s right, the Religion of Sports has, for many American Jews, replaced their Jewish heritage. It provides community and a goal to work toward, and no doubt the euphoric sense of being in a stadium packed with fans can easily compete with the most inspiring religious experience.

Despite numerous invitations, this Sunday I’ll be watching a completely different spectacle. I’ll be watching the annual banquet of the International Shluchos Conference. 

In case you need it, here’s a brief primer of some Chabad lingo: Chabad rabbis are actually called “Shluchim” which means emissaries (or in the singular, “shliach”). The feminine version of the word is “Shluchos” (or in the singular, Shlucha).

The secret of Chabad are the Shluchos; they are the ones who keep things on track and on mark. In Judaism it has always been known that the woman is the one who truly sets the tone in the home and this is certainly true in a Chabad House. 

The Shluchos are the ones who run the household, make sure the kids (and their husbands) are fed and dressed - all while giving classes, running community programs, meeting privately with people and ensuring that nothing falls through the cracks.

The Shluchos are the ultimate givers; they share themselves and their lives in heroic ways. Ensuring that everyone is cared for and remembered. 

I find the contrast between these two major events to be very significant and actually highlights divergent approaches to life. 

The way I see it, the primary difference between the Torah centered lifestyle and the lifestyle promoted in popular culture is this: The Torah focuses on giving and the pop culture value system is based on taking.

What do you think, is there something wrong with taking? Is there something wrong with watching out for your needs?

Yes and no. While we certainly need to take care of ourselves there’s something unsettling about taking, to the point that it makes us uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s because man is hardwired to be a giver, to contribute. Of course we have to take care of ourselves, but what is the end goal? Why are we taking care of ourselves? Just so that we can live a little longer and be a taker for more time? Or is there something more?

More to life there definitely is, but the secret is not looking out for yourself with more passion - it’s doing more for another. That’s how we fulfill our purpose in life.

The Torah advocates giving, both to G-d and to man. Doing a mitzvah because that’s what G-d wants from us, not just because it feels like the right thing to do. Helping another in times of need, not to varnish our resume or be awarded the “Humanitarian of the Year” award, but rather just to help them.

The most ironic part of it is, that the secret to finding happiness is not by getting what you want from life, it’s by giving of yourself to others. In other words, the more you focus on giving, both to man and G-d, the happier your life will be. 

So this Sunday afternoon, whether you watch the Super Bowl or the Shluchos banquet, take some time to consider how to strengthen your giving muscle. It will make your life so much richer, deeper and more satisfying. Even watching the Super Bowl, the epitome of pop culture, can be a giving opportunity. So go ahead, try giving instead of taking; you’ll be happier for it!

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Photo by frank mckenna on Unsplash 

They say never discuss religion or politics with family; I think we need to actually add another “untouchable”: Apple vs. Android. Many people are uncomfortable speaking about things that, although truly important to them, they feel may not be "politically correct" to share.

This week's Torah portion, however, advances a strong case for sharing the greatness that you experience. It speaks about the final stage of the Exodus, the miracle of the Splitting of the Reed Sea. But it doesn't just mention it, the Torah records how the Jewish people, led by Moshe, sang songs of thanksgiving for this miracle. In addition to recognizing G-d's miracles it also served to publicize them. 

Chassidic thought teaches that a primary purpose in life is to reveal the G-dliness within the physical reality. This is accomplished primarily through fulfilling the Mitzvot and recognizing G-d's existence in the world.

When we see something, we should say something. When we marvel at the beauty of G-d's creations or experience miraculous events, we shouldn't keep it to ourselves, rather we should share it with others.

I'm not advocating changing Judaism into a proselytizing religion, but I do think it's integral that we ensure that we are knowledgeable and confident enough to be able to share it. After all, we have a responsibility to share it with our children and raise them to be knowledgeable and engaged Jews. And when our non Jewish friends or coworkers ask us why we do this or why we don't believe that,it wouldn’t hurt to be able to answer properly (not just saying that's the way we do it).

The very first step is to study and be knowledgeable. Get started now, there's no time like the present.

Photo by Cara Fuller on Unsplash

We’re so used to being focused on a goal that we don’t appreciate the value in the journey. Focusing on the destination can often be detrimental if we don’t achieve the goal. In addition it sets us up for disappointment when we invariably compare ourselves to others.

Photo by Miguel Luis on Unsplash 

I’m not sure why everyone is busy reflecting on the past year right now considering that Rosh Hashanah was close to four months ago…

On a more serious note, it’s easy to reflect on the past year (or two) and feel down rather than uplifted. There’s no getting around the fact that the past two years have been tough on everyone. The incessant cacophony of acrimony and accusations in the media, especially as amplified through social channels, only make matters worse. And looking to the future can be downright frightening for so many…

I was reminded today of a profound message that emerges from the Exodus narrative that’s being studied in the weekly Torah portion nowadays.

One of the famous ethical teachings of our sages is that of “hakarat hatov”, appreciating and recognizing the good. And as with many Talmudic teachings, this one too is anchored in scripture. 

There are in fact many biblical sources where this idea is found, including various Mitzvahs that are rooted in this principle (like honoring one’s parents and bikkurim). Other famous biblical examples include Moses not being the one to implement the first three plagues due to his life having been saved by the water and the earth earlier in his life, and the entire people waiting while Moses’ sister Miriam healed before continuing to travel, in appreciation for her waiting and watching over Moses when he was placed in the basket. 

In addition to the examples above, there are many others that highlight the same value. However, when the Talmud wishes to convey this message, the ethical and moral value of recognizing and appreciating the good, a particularly peculiar example is chosen. 

The Torah limits the ability for certain ancient nations to convert to Judaism. It then highlights some exceptions, including the Egyptians. And the reason for the exception? “You were a sojourner in his (i.e. the Egyptians) land.”

That’s interesting. Last I checked we weren’t treated all that well while in Egypt all those years ago. Yet the Torah lists their “hospitality” as the rationale for the conversion exception vis a vis the Egyptians. What’s going on?!

Consider this. While the experience was none too pleasant to say the least, it was however the formative time for our people. We experienced unprecedented population growth in Egypt, transforming in the process from a large family to an entire nation. 

While the slavery was obviously negative, there were nonetheless some positives to be extracted from the experience. And that’s what the sages are highlighting by pointing to this example as the scriptural example of “hakarat hatov”, appreciating and recognizing the good. 

This idea provides a profound and powerful lesson. While these recent years may have been challenging, we have the ability to choose what about them we highlight. Do we focus on the negative or do we find the positive to highlight?

I’m confident that upon reflection we can all find wonderful experiences and lessons from the past couple years that have enriched us, expanded our horizons and facilitated growth. 

My blessing to you as we transition to a new period in time is that you find the positive in all of your experiences - especially the ones that feel so challenging.

Photo by Sammy Williams on Unsplash 

David was walking downtown and was surprised to meet his long lost friend, Moshe. 

“Moshe! It’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed. “My Moshe, how you’ve changed over the years. I hardly recognized you, the glasses, the gray hair – you even look a little shorter…” 

“Excuse me,” replied the man, “but my name is not Moshe.” 

“What!? You even changed your name!!”

It is not all that uncommon that we mistake one person for another but have you ever mistaken your own identity?

Which reminds me of the fellow with the identity crisis. When he was dressed he would be able to differentiate himself from others by the way he was dressed. He struggled though when he was at the bathhouse and everyone looked more or less the same. 

He finally found a therapist who came up with a solution; he was to tie a red string around his big toe and then he would know that he was the guy with the red string on his toe. 

Everything was going swimmingly until one time he was in the bathhouse and the red string came loose and ended up on someone else’s toe. What to do!?

Finally, he walked over to the fellow and said to him, “Excuse me sir, please help me out. I see the red string on your toe so I know who YOU are. But who am I??”

In all seriousness, I think “mistaken identity” can sometimes be the way to describe many modern Jewish people. We have come to think that Judaism is about caring for global warming and social justice, and we seem to have forgotten the holy mission with which we have been charged.

Being confident in our Jewish identity is likely the single most important element of being Jewish today. 

Just like when our ancestors were redeemed from Egypt, the Torah informs us that it was in the merit of their maintaining a distinct identity, apart from the mainstream Egyptian culture of the time, that they were saved. 

Life is full of turbulence. We can make all the plans we’d like but we can never fully anticipate every possible twist and turn. To navigate life we need to maintain a distinct identity that is privy to the whims of society. This anchors us and guides us, and helps us successfully navigate the challenges we face. 

The good news is that while we live in a physical world, we are really “amphibious creatures” – because we have a wholly spiritual side too, our soul. 

It’s not enough to nourish our physical body, we have to remember our spiritual, G-dly side as well. And until we recognize that side of ourselves and nourish it, we will consistently be mistaken about our own identity.

As Jewish people we have a 3300+ year heritage that has helped generations before us maintain their identity and navigate the challenges in their path. 

It’s time we “find ourselves”. It’s time we re-engage in, and strengthen our connection with, our heritage. And the good news is that we don’t have to look very far to find it, it’s right here within us. 

What do you think? I think it’s time to look inside and find yourself!

Photo by Saketh Garuda on Unsplash

It’s been a very confronting week for many of us. An obviously Jewish student was targeted and murdered inside his school and the media ignored it. The police are trying to write it off as a random crime, when it seems pretty certain to have been a hate crime. 

Watching in real time as chaos and acute danger descends on Afghanistan, threatening the lives of millions of innocent people. The political lives of our elected leaders seem to take precedence over the literal lives of so many. 

Add to it the dark ominous skies we’ve been experiencing this week, caused by fires in our virtual backyard. We know people who have evacuated (as I’m sure you do too) and friends of friends whose properties were completely burned down. 

Not to mention all the Covid news, along with the by-now expected acrimony.

It all adds up to a deeply unsettling feeling of uncertainty. Is there any institution that can be trusted? Is there anywhere that we can feel safe?

While this is a somewhat global view, it's often reflected in our personal lives too. And when the people and things that we’ve relied on let us down, it can have ripple effects that are hard to overcome. 

The reality is that it’s time we realize that it’s a “false world”. The motivation behind so much of daily life is twisted by personal benefit and convenience, and not guided by principle or immutable values. 

Coming to this realization can be very uneasy at first (to say the least) but in reality it can lead to a much more liberated existence. Our priorities must be guided by our connection to our “Higher Power”, not by the expectation of others. Our choices must be determined by timeless values, not timely trends. And our decisions must be guided by what’s right, not by what’s expedient. 

And when we do, we’ll come to appreciate a whole different dimension of reality, a deeper and more aligned reality: That our world is, in truth, a garden. That’s how it was created to function and that’s its truest state of existence. The more we live our life in tune with that reality, the more that reality crystallizes in our daily experience too.

It’s certainly true that initially it takes more effort to live life this way, but the payoff is easily worth the investment. We’ll discover deeper friendships and more meaningful experiences. Our life will be filled with value instead of things and despite the chaos around us, we’ll be able to be confident in our mission.

Coming to recognize the “false world”, and it’s deeper “world as G-d’s garden” reality, enables us to build a beautiful, deep and true life. A life that is not easily derailed by events around us; rather, it spreads light, positivity and hope to all with whom we come in contact.

 Photo by Lians Jadan on Unsplash

Let’s face it, while some parts of Jewish observance are warm and fuzzy (think: caring for the sick and the needy, animal welfare and the like), there are other parts of Jewish practice that take more dedication, conviction and commitment (think: Shabbat, Kosher and the like). 

Then there are parts of the Torah which can truly present concern for the thinking Jew today: The ideas and ideals of the Torah that, to our Western mindset, seem outmoded and archaic (to say the least). You know what I’m referring to - slavery, eradicating entire nations and the like; things that are not exactly in vogue today, to say the least.

In fact, each one is understood in a unique manner and there is much wisdom to be discovered, but they’re beyond the scope of this message. 

Instead I wanted to highlight something from this week’s Torah portion: The Mitzvah to appoint a king. 

Appointing a king? Yes, that’s one of the topics of this week’s Torah portion and it’s one that people find difficult to relate to. I mean, a king is the antithesis of our system of government; representation by the people for the people. 

So how can I, a thinking Jew, understand this text so that I can be comfortable studying it today? 

As with every part of the Torah, the more we study and the better we understand, all the more relevance is discovered. And there is no difference in this instance. You see, there are a few radical ideas that distinguish the Jewish king from any other monarch:

• A typical king obtained their power by virtue of force and heritage; a Jewish king obtained their power from the people. The people are the ones who accept the king, the king doesn’t impose his will on them. 

• A typical king would do everything to flaunt their wealth and their power; the Jewish king is required to limit both. 

• And a typical king was the ultimate power in the kingdom and imposed himself and his rule everywhere he could; a Jewish king is commanded to keep in mind that there is a greater power than he, the Ultimate Power in the universe, G-d.

Take a look at these ideas - I have a feeling that you might find them relevant too. When we are cognizant of G-d Above, when we remember that it’s not about us, rather it’s about the purpose and role that we have to serve, life takes on a whole new look. Suddenly we can see more clearly the needs of others, and not only how they can serve us. Suddenly we feel confident enough to give and share from the blessings we have been granted. And suddenly our life is imbued with a sense of purpose and mission.

Perhaps the information about a king is actually not all that outdated at all. In fact, it seems precisely tailored for our modern era of narcissistic self-centeredness. Maybe the modern monarchy is all about being king over ourselves?