Ezra Vorts

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The True Heretic, The True Believer

Rav Hutner used to say that the biggest heresy is not a lack in the belief of Gd, but rather a lack in the belief in the greatness of ourselves. He used to tell of the following metaphor to highlight this point. A man observed a fisherman out on the sea. The fisherman would cast out his rod, and after a while pull out a gigantic fish. After a few moments of examining the fish, he would throw the big fish back into the sea. This happened four or five times. Eventually, the fisherman caught a tiny, small, baby fish. When the fisherman reached the shore, the man asked him, "Why did you throw away all of the great, large fish, and only keep the smallest one?" He answered, "I only have an 8 inch frying pan. This are the only fish that I can really use." The metaphor was that we throw away our big dreams in life because we do not believe in ourselves that we capable enough to actualize them.

In this week's Parasha, Shelach, the Jewish people sent spies to scout out the land of Israel. They came back with a dismayed report, telling the Jewish people that while the land is filled with milk and honey, the people who inhabit it are extremely large and numerous, and it will be impossible to win control of the land. The spies state, "We were in our own eyes as grasshoppers, and so we were in their eyes" (Numbers 13:33).

The Jewish people made the mistake of not believing in themselves - playing on the universal tendency that we all have to underestimate ourselves and our abilities, and let our worries overtake our reason. From this we learn that the way in which a person sees himself is how others will see him - if I view myself as a small, weak, and insignificant grasshopper, that is how others will view me. My own perceptions end up determining my reality - a true self-fulfilling prophecy.

This self-fulfilling prophecy was realized in another way as well. The Jewish people believed they were too weak to enter the land. That ended up becoming their reality - they instead wandered in the desert for 40 years, the entire generation vanishing and never entering into the land of Israel. Ultimately, we see that our biggest enemy was not the large inhabitants of land, but rather ourselves and our own self-defeating mindsets.

We see a similar idea in a famous song that we sing - כָּל הָעוֹלָם כֻּלוּ גֶשֶׁר צַר מְּאֹד וְהָעִיקָר לאֹ לְפַחֵד כְּלַל meaning, "The whole world is a very narrow bridge, but the important​​ thing is not to fear at all." These words are based on the teachings of Rabbi Nachman (Liketui Maharan, Tanina 48). In the original writing of these words, we see much deeper idea being conveyed. Instead of writing, "לאֹ לְפַחֵד כְּלַל," do not fear at all, Rabbi Nachman actually writes, "לא יתפחד כלל," do not cause yourself to have fear at all. Fear is something that is often times based on our own perceptions. We are the ones who control how intimidating a challenge this really is. As the German proverb goes, "Fear makes the wolf bigger than it really is."

We began by saying that the biggest heresy is not a lack in the belief of Gd, but rather a lack in the belief in the greatness of ourselves. In the same vein, many people think that the definition of Ultra Orthodox is how much you believe in Gd. However, this is not true. The real definition is how much do you realize that Gd believes in you. When you realize that Gd believes in you, you begin to believe in yourself. And when you believe in yourself, you infuse into yourself an unlimited strength to do that which previously seemed impossible and above human ability.

Every morning we say "Modeh Ani" - Thank you Gd for restoring with me life. At the end of the sentence, we say, "Rabbah Emunatecha"- Great is your faithfulness. This seems a bit unusual. We would have expected us to proclaim each morning - "Great is my faithfulness in you." The answer is that each morning as we awaken, we are meant to declare and recognize Gd's great faith in us. He granted us another beautiful day because he has faith in us that we can be great and we can make a impact on the world that no one else can make.

In Judaism, we see that there are always two mindsets - a mindset of smallness, and a mindset of greatness. Do you realize that you are a unique human being created in the image of Gd? Do you know that you are capable of amazing accomplishments and achieving something in the world which no one else can achieve? Or are you stuck in the grasshopper mindset? Do you see yourself as small, irrelevant, and inconsequential? Only once we see and believe in our own greatness will we be able to achieve great things in the world.

My blessing to us all on this Shabbat is to internalize this lesson and not make the same mistake as the spies - let us realize that we are not small and insignificant, but rather that we are have greatness within us. May we not let our own fear be the cause of our own defeat. May we believe in those around us as well - our friends, our families, and even strangers - and thereby empower them to accomplish that which they are meant to accomplish. Shabbat Shalom!

[ezravorts]

Stand and See This Precious Gift

One of the most epic moments of all of Jewish history was the splitting of the sea, which allowed the Jewish people to begin their freedom from Egypt.   Right before the sea was split, Moses told the Jewish people, “Stand and see the salvation of Gd that he will do for you today” (Exodus 14:13).  Why was this message so important?  Isn’t it obvious that the Jewish people would notice the open miracle that was soon to happen before their eyes?  

The answer is that we often need to be reminded to stop and appreciate the moment which is in front of us.  Moses was telling the Jewish people - “Stand and see” - stop to realize the importance of this moment.  Take advantage of it, because this will be the only time in your life that you will ever experience something like this.  When you are geared with that reminder, you can now use it to your advantage, and make the most of the experience which you are involved with.  

During the prayer service, we are meant to remind ourselves of this idea each week. Every Friday night we say two verses from the Torah before we begin the silent prayer:  “The Children of Israel shall observe the Sabbath, to make the Sabbath an eternal covenant for their generations.  Between Me and the Children of Israel it is a sign forever that in six days Gd made the Heavens and the earth, and on the seventh day He relaxed and rested [vai’y’na’fash].”

Our Sages teach us that the reason why we state this verses is solely for the sake of saying the final word vai’y’na’fash.  What’s so special about this word?  The Gemara says that this word is actually a contraction of Vai (Woe!) and Nafash (Soul).  It is an expression of mourning, saying “Woe to my soul!”

So what are we mourning exactly?  On Shabbat we receive an extra soul, which allows us to have increased spiritual potential throughout the day.  We are mourning the fact that when Shabbat leaves, there is departure of this soul and so too this heightened spiritual potential.

The only question is - why are we mourning on Friday night? Shabbat just started! We should be celebrating Friday night, and instead say these verses at the end of Shabbat when our soul is really leaving.  The answer reveals to us a fundamental idea in life:  there’s no point in crying once it’s over.  By Saturday night, it’s too late to do anything about it.  On Friday night we remind ourselves - we have 25 hours - let’s make the most of it.  

This is a lesson that applies to every chapter in life.  Right now I am in yeshiva - a once in lifetime opportunity to step away from the world, solidify a vision of who I aspire to be as an individual, to learn as much as possible while I am here, and to immerse myself in a spiritual environment where everyone is devoted to growing as a person and bringing out all of their strengths.  The worst thing that is possible is for someone at the end of their one or two years of yeshiva to say: “Woe to my soul! I could have done more.”  The earlier someone has time mentality, the more he can realize the preciousness of his time and use it more wisely.

We see a similar idea taught in Ethics of the Fathers (Pirkei Avot).  Rabbi Akiva teaches: “Beloved is man, for he was created in the image of Gd.  [But] it is even a greater love that it was made known to him that he was created in the image of Gd” (Pirkei Avot 3:18).   This doesn’t seem to make much sense.  Why exactly is it so much greater that we were informed that we were created in the image of Gd?  

Rav Noach Weinberg explains the answer beautifully through a metaphor.  Imagine a poor, homeless man living in the streets of New York City.  All he owns is an old shopping cart filled with his few meager belongings.  Everyday he walks the city, shlepping his shopping cart from garbage can to garbage can to find some food to eat.  He ends each night by sleeping on the streets.  

A wealthy business man from Wall Street passed by the homeless man each day as he returned from work.  One night, the businessman was walking home after he just received his big bonus for the year.  He thought to himself,  ”I have more money than I know what to do with, and here is this poor soul with nothing at all.  I know, I’ll give him one million dollars.  He’ll be able to use that money and really change his life for the better!”  So the business man put the million dollars at the bottom of the poor man’s cart, to keep it in a safe place so that no one would take it.  

The next day, the poor man woke up and begin his daily routine - shlepping his shopping cart place to place trying to find some food.  He ended the night off by sleeping on the streets.  The next day, the same routine.  So too the next week, the next year, the next decade. The poor man never looked at the bottom of his cart, and lived the rest of his life as that same poor man.  From this we learn an incredible insight on life - it is one thing to be given a gift, but if you do not realize that you have been given a gift, it’s as if you have not received it all.  We have to realize the preciousness of the gift of life that we have been given - only with that awareness can we use the time our lives properly.

In the beginning of this week’s parasha, Vayakel, Moses tells the Jewish people, “For six days you should do your work, and the seventh day shall be holy for you, a day of complete rest for Hashem.” (Exodus 35:2).  One of the ideas that we learn from Shabbat is that the week is divided into two parts:  a time to work, create, and prepare; and a time when no more work can be done at all, to instead put our hands down and appreciate all that we have created.  

This idea from Shabbat is a metaphor about our lives.  We learn in Pirkei Avot: “This world is like a corridor to the world-to-come. Prepare yourself in the corridor, so that you may enter the banquet hall” (Pirkei Avot 4:21).  A corridor is a time to prepare yourself to create the banquet, but once you are at the banquet, there is no more time to prepare.  If you have prepared properly, then you will be able to enjoy yourself at the banquet.  But if not, you will sit there empty handed.   So too, our job is to use our time in this chapter in life, and throughout our entire lives, to the fullest.    As King Solomon reminds us, “Whatever you are able to do with your might, do it. For there is neither doing nor reckoning nor knowledge nor wisdom in the grave where you are going”  (Kohelet 9:10).  

The Chofetz Chaim was known to collect metaphors.  Someone one asked him what his favorite metaphor was.  He said, “Life is like a postcard.”  We start writing with a large scrawl, crafting the message as we go along.  But before we know it, we’re at the end of the card and there’s no more room.  We start writing smaller and smaller, and when we’re out of space, we start winding our words around the edges of the card to fit in everything.  Before we know it, we’ve turned the card upside down to squeeze in the last few vital words in our message.  

So too with life.   A big problem that our generation faces is our relationship with time.  We think we have all the time in the world.   We start of young and reckless with our time. But as we grow older we realize that life is short.  The sooner realize the preciousness of the gift, the sooner we can start to fill in all of its white spaces with value and content.

King Solomon tells us, “Because of the winter cold, the lazy person will not plow. He will desire a crop a harvest time, but there is none” (Proverbs 20:4).  This lazy man stayed indoors all winter instead of plowing his field. Later, when the harvest season arrives, he also wants crops to gather, but he has nothing.   The key to success any area of growth and development is a sense of urgency.   This is the time to prepare, so make the most of it.  Only through working hard will be able to be satisfied with the fruits of our labor, as King Solomon writes: “One who works his land will be sated with bread, but one who chases vanity will be sated with poverty” (Proverbs 28:19); (See Rabbeinu Yonah on Pirkei Avot 1:10 - “Love Work”).

Be urgent about your life.  Don’t wait until your much older when it’s too late, and only then do you say “Woe to my soul.” As Moses told the Jewish people - “Stand and see” the preciousness of the gift of time that we have been given.  My blessing to us all is that we can realize the immense gift of live that has been granted to us, to realize that one day it will be gone, and to use that as a positive fuel to make the most of our time in every chapter of life that we find ourselves in.  Shabbat Shalom!

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This essay was based primarily on ideas from a few of my mentors and teachers from Machon Yaakov - Rabbi Taub, Rabbi Orloweck, and Rabbi Lynn.  Thank you!

[ezravorts]

"Educate a Child According to His Way"

People today find themselves more lost than ever before.  With so many options and choices on what career to choose and how we should direct our lives, we feel overwhelmed and directionless.   Consider the trajectory of the typical college student:  he starts off as an ambitious pre-med, then an accounting major, then studying anthropology, then applying to law school, then going back to get a post-bac, then applying for Teach for America, and then joining the army.  What's going on here?  Is there any better approach?  How are we to have clarity on our real path and mission in this world?  And once we do make a commitment, how can we have the confidence in knowing that we have really chosen the right one?

The classic ethical treatise "Duties of the Heart," written in the 1100s by Rabbeinu Bachya , helps to share some insight.   The Duties of the Heart discusses that each person has their own unique mission in the world, and this mission lies in the intersection of three realms:  1) a person's natural strengths; 2) a person's deep passions; and 3) what the world and society need the most.  

  Rabbeinu Bachya illustrates this idea through the metaphor of animals.  Think of a cat, for instance.  What are its strengths? Sharp claws, strong teeth, dexterity, good vision.  What does it enjoy?  Chasing after small, furry objects.  What does the world need? Mice population control.  So the cat aligns itself with its natural strengths and affections, and thereby fulfills its purpose. 

  Is it really all that simple?  Perhaps the reason why Rabbeinu Bachya depicts this concept through this metaphor is because the answer to the question "What is my purpose?" is really not all that complex.  As King Solomon writes in Kohelet: "God made man straight, but they sought many calculations."  We become so invested in what society thinks  that it prevents us from making the right choice.  Really, the answer is quite simple, but it takes courage and bravery to make the leap and make it real.

  A useful exercise is to reflect on the intersection of the three realms discussed in "Duties of the Heart" and begin to discover where your natural sweet spot is.  Once you begin this inner journey of reflection, you will be surprised in how easily you will begin to uncover the answer.  As Rav Noach Weinberg once said, "The looking is the finding - begin to search." 

  No one in life aspires to be mediocre.  Everyone person has a natural yearning to be great.  But we must realize that each person will have to travel their own path to actualize this greatness - you cannot just blindly follow the one route dictated by society.  As King Solomon teaches us , "All rivers flow into the sea" (Kohelet 1:7).  While everyone has their own path, they nonetheless lead to the same destination - the sea of greatness.  As the Ramchal writes in the conclusion of Mesilat Yesharim: "There is a path to piety that is specific to each and every individual.  But that is not to say that the nature of piety varies." 

  Hillel teaches in Ethics of the Fathers: "If I am not for myself, who will be for me?"  Ultimately, the process of discovering and aligning oneself with his strengths is a task for the individual himself to pursue - no one else can make you great.  However, others can empower and guide you to help reveal these natural strengths.  Ultimately, this is the true role of a father or mentor. 

  Rabbi Israel Salantar fully internalized this idea, as he sought to  cultivate that which was already latent inside each of his students.  One of his disciples described his rabbi with the following metaphor:  "When a person has many different types of seeds in his hand, he will not be able to distinguish one from the other.  But after planting them and pouring some water, the seeds begin to sprout, and the person will now discover that the first is a pumpkin seed, the second is an apple seed, etc."  Only once you know which seed is which will you be able to tend to it in it's proper way.  A father must do the same with his children - he must pour the water of love to help them sprout,  be attentive to the natural talents within each of them, and then tend to them in their unique way. 

  Rav Wolbe shares a similar metaphor when describing how we should raise children.    A child's education must be customized and personalized.   A father must separate nature and nurture, and then nurture his child's nature.   He writes: "It's obvious that a banana plant needs different care than an apple tree.  If I raise a banana plant and an apple tree, and provide both of them with identical care, at least one of them won't grow well, and perhaps neither will.  The same is true of children."  This echoes the ancient wisdom of King Solomon, who describes that the essence of raising children can be expressed in the following idea: "Educate a child according to his way" (Proverbs 22:6).

  We see this idea this week in Parashat Vayechi, when Jacob gives each of his 12 sons a blessing before he passes away. Inherent within Jacob's final act is his parting message of  what it means to be a father.  Jacob does not give just one blessing to all of his sons, but rather he blessed each son with a unique blessing appropriate to his nature and attributes. 

  May we merit to discover our own strengths, and to awaken others to their talents to help  empower them to fulfill their missions in this world!  Shabbat Shalom.

  --

  Thank you my friend Elad for helping me edit this piece.  These ideas are all inspired from my dear mentors, Rabbi Gershenfeld and Rabbi Lynn.

[ezravorts]

Celebrating Victory

When a nation or team wins a victory, how does it celebrate? The usual method is by gathering together in a frenzy and igniting a ginormous bonfire. However, this is not at all how the Jews responded to their military victory of the Greeks during the time of Chanuka. Instead of all gathering and lighting one massive bonfire, we celebrate Chanuka by each lighting our own individual menorahs. Why? This special message of Chanuka is to remind us that each person is immensely unique. Each of us must realize our own personal greatness, and use that to contribute our own light to the world. Judaism doesn’t think that there is only one way or one definition of greatness, or that there is just one big bonfire that we all blend into. As Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe said: “Every person must realize: I, with all my abilities, potentials and talents both physical and spiritual, am unique in the universe. Amongst all those alive today there is no other me. In past generations too there was no other me, and until the end of time there will be no other me. And if so, the Master of the Universe must certainly have sent me here on a special mission that could be fulfilled by no one else but me - with all my uniqueness.”

The Talmud (Sanhedrin 37a) teaches this idea in a beautiful way: "in order to show the greatness of the Holy One, Blessed be He: if a man strikes many coins from one mold, they all resemble one another, but the King of Kings, the Holy One, Blessed be He, made each man in the image of Adam, and yet not one of them resembles his fellow. Therefore every single person is obligated to say, 'The world was created for my sake"

The first sentence of the classic work Mesilat Yesharim (Path of the Just) starts off by writing: "The bedrock of piety and the root of flawless Divine service lies in man's effort to clarify and verify what his duty is in his world." Why the very strange language? Why did the Ramchal write 'his world', as opposed to 'the world'? The answer is because each person has their own unique mission statement that only they can fulfill.

This work is called the Mesilat Yesharim - the Path of the Just. It is not "the highway of the Just". The path of greatness will differ for each and every person, and every person is meant to discover where his own personal greatness lies in the world.

Ideologically, the Greeks during Chanuka fought this notion of individual greatness. The Midrash Rabbah (Bereshit 2:4) says that Greeks are representative of darkness as they "darkened the eyes of Israel with its decrees, ordering Israel, ‘Write on the horn of an ox that you have no portion in the God of Israel."

Each person is a diamond, no two alike. But the Greeks strove to strip away the notion that each individual had a special portion and mission in this world. Instead, in the Greek notion, one that is still widely in mind today, is there is just one type of hero.

The darkness that the Greeks represented was not a literal one, but rather a darkness that resulted from extinguishing and completely discrediting the individual light that each person adds to the world. This Chanuka when you light your menorah may you too dispel this darkness and express your own unique greatness!

[These ideas are primarily based on various teachings I have learned from Rabbi Gershenfeld while at Machon Yaakov.]