Ho Hum

Life is rather strange. It's all the more unfortunate because I don't feel the freedom to bare all on this oh so public stage. How is that hyphenated by the way? Anyway, as I was saying, regarding my lack of, well, it's not exactly freedom. After all, I could write whatever the heck I want. So what stops me? First of all, the readers of this blog (at least the ones I know of) are known by me personally, and I have a reputation to protect. Secondly, as the name of this blog implies, I am not my own man, but rather a soldier in the Rebbe's army, a Shliach. This gives me certain responsibilities, not the least of which is not embarrassing the Rebbe. Sure, many so-called Shluchim do embarrass, but that is none of my business. I have to do my thing, and the rest will take care of itself.

Norm Coleman came to the Sukkah fair today. He, like the rest of us, walked in the mud. He gave a speech. Rabbi Feller gave a speech. Norm gave a speech. They shook Lulav together. Norm ate a hot dog. A whole hot dog. It rained. Someone held up an umbrella for him. He smiles a lot. That's what politicians do, I guess.

I'm not married, a fact that has already been established. A quick not, before developing my theme here, I'd like to wish a Mazel Tov to the Amrami family on the engagement of their daughter Brucha to some Israeli dudeski. Back to my point. There is an "Ask the Rabbi" forum on www.jpost.com. In one of today's letters the Rabbi writes, "I think that marriage should be the way we solve our problems in life and not a way to organize incipient tragedy." I fully agree with the second. It is the reason we have Dor Yesharim, to prevent incipient tragedy. Incipient, by the way, means "developing." The first half of the quotation is, however, in my humble (and single) opinion quite wrong. If you're going into marriage because you're lonely, or feeling powerful and passionate physical urges, then OK. If, however, a person has emotional or mental issues then marriage will not solve them. That's not what it was made for. That is why some people are mature and ready for marriage, and others are not. It has nothing to do with education, finances, or age. When you are ready then you should go. But again, it won't solve your problems.

I don't think I've taken this sentence out of context. Well, obviously, I have, but I don't think I've distorted the meaning. Too much.

There there

Today I had a couple comments from a loyal reader. The first concerned the purchase of German goods. Personally, from what I've heard, Mercedes Benz' products have ceased to be anything special in terms of quality and comfort. The second comment was that people who talk in Shul disturb the sleep of those trying to listen to the sermon. Wait, that didn't make sense! No fears, redundant tautological and sometimes (but not always) repetitive man is here! (Drum roll please...)
Personally, I usually daven during the Rabbi's speech. This Yom Kippur I napped. What joy. What frabjous feeling. What nonsense.
Anyway, I was just reading about Reform's new Siddur. What exactly is the point of being a Reform Jew? Where do they go after death? Where do they spend their lives? What's the point of it all?
On all fairness, I often ask myself some of the above questions.
Have you ever wondered what goes on in the mind of a blogger when he (or she) is writing? Well here's your chance, folks, so buckle up and keep your feet off the tomatoes on the floor, because this is going to be a wild ride. That period killed it, huh?
Man, now that I'm all psyched up to expose my inner logic, I'm way too lazy to explain everything. My more acerbic readers would say at this point that I have no inner logic. They might be right. Then again, they might be wrong.
And I may just be tired.

So strange

Rosh Hashanah is the new year. Yom Kippur is the holiest day of the year. In the secular world, people party like crazy on the new year and are really holy on the holiest day. Take your pick: Superbowl Sunday, Labor Day, Memorial Day, X-Mas Day, Flag Day, or even good 'ol April Fools Day. All of these are celebrated with great solemnity and dignity. It's just funny that, at least in my experience, Rosh Hashanah is the day on which we are most serious.
You know what? During Havdala tonight I had a whole post written out for tonight. It would have been brilliant. But right now it's 1:25 AM, and I'm consequently rather tired. Sure, I'd love for everyone to be able to understand why exactly Yom Kippur is a time for jokes, but I'm really not too interested right now.
In related news, were you aware that there is a difference between "obervant" and "religious" Jews? I wasn't. But evidently, at least according to Yediot Achronot, there is. Otherwise? Wikipedia is a fascinating website. I have wasted many hours just reading their guidelines. Another site I was just on was the US Holocaust Museum website. Normally I avoid the Holocaust because it just makes me depressed, and what's the point of reading about suffering? But there was this amazing new photo album just released of Nazis in Auschwitz having a great time. Typical. Absolutely typical.
All rightie then, more tomorrow. If you're lucky. Oh, and perhaps a treatise on the decline of the the indent in our postmodern world.
Cheers!

Slog the Blog

Hello. What is up fellow humans? (If you aren't human, and you're reading this, email me {actually, even if you are human, you can still email me}) We have a second Minyan in Shul these days, consisting of the Cheder kids (none of whom are over Bar Mitzvah) and the people who can't bear to wake up at a decent hour. All right, so that's a bit harsh. Anyway, it's only 45 minutes after the main Minyan, so no one's getting that much more sleep. Of course, every second counts. We all know that. My peeve is one that I've seen written up in every single book on education, and half a million websites and blogs to boot. So why do I feel the need to add my clarion call to the brass of this particular symphony? That was a really good sentence, by the way. Right, so only today did the full enormity of the crime being perpetrated on our children hit me with all the force of a Rabbi Zeilengold speech. OK, that sentence was a bit forced, but what of it?
Oh, right, onto that whole peeve thing. Children should not talk in the middle of Davening. I think we can all agree on that. Adults should also not talk in the middle of Davening. I think we can all agree on that one too. So why do the kids get quieted while the adults chat away, with a careless abandon more worthy of a Sunday school picnic than the communion with the one Almighty G-d that is expected of all the worshipers in our little temple of love. Except that we don't have a Sunday school, which is of course hardly the point. Why should the kids shut their little mouths?
And I understand that the adults are undoubtedly discussing genius of great import. But they're also supposed to be praying, which is undoubtedly slightly more important than your average genius of great import.
Ah yes, you say, the idealism of the young, how touching to see. Gives us all hope for the future, eh? Of course nothing will change. So why bother? Good question.
This is a relatively interesting article. (I'm sorry, blogger's hyperlink thing doesn't seem to be working.) http://www.theage.com.au/news/national/paying-dearly-to-hear-gores-climate-story/2007/09/20/1189881602765.html
I hate Al Gore. That was rather harsh. I'm sorry. Let's just say that I'm extremely happy that he didn't become our supreme leader and master. His type will be the first shot when the revolution comes. Perhaps even before, if we're lucky. No, then we'd have to sit through a horrid funeral, and hear praise of his evil work for weeks. Not worth it, trust me. Funny, of the three people who have any slight chance of reading this post, at least one is a big Gore fan. Sorry. Anyone who has neck larger than their brain deserves no sympathy.

So...

I was washing the dishes (yes, I'm single) when I had the brilliant idea to write something for the blog. The question was, and remains, I might add, what. As in, what to write. I thought of several topics, but considered them to be so self-evident that it would presumably be a waste of time. And then I thought, but wait, maybe not everybody in the world thinks the same way I do, and therefore what I consider to be obvious isn't actually so. For example, I read an article in out local commie press today about the rising number of atheists in our wonderful little world, and how they are constantly discriminated against. My heart bleeds cold borscht for them. But that is not the point. It never is, is it? The old line, "There are no atheists in foxholes" doesn't do too much for me, because, really, who cares? And you can't prove it, anyway. The only people who come up talking at the end, or at least those who get our attention, are those who find G-d in the trenches. Not that we've had too much trench warfare in the last several wars. A great pity. Sorry, that was my WWI persona taking over. Never forget Agincourt, and all that. Funny, a quick check with wikipedia just revealed that this great battle didn't actually happen in WWI. More like the Hundred Years war. My bad. How 'bout the Somme. No great joy there.

Anyway, as I was saying, there may very well be non-believers in the thousands lining the many battlefields of our lives. Perhaps they were all killed. We'll never know.

What gets me is that people lost their faith because of 9/11. Idiots. The argument is, how could G-d possibly allow so many people to die? Must be he doesn't exist. As I said, idiots. The only way you can ask the question in the first place is if you think G-d exists. Because if he doesn't, then he has no obligation to ensure that bad things don't happen. Once he exists, he becomes responsible. The answer is not, "He doesn't exist." Rather, it's, "How could this happen?" Do I have the answers? Of course not. If I did, I'd be the richest person on planet earth. Perhaps even Mars.

Ah, you say, this guy believes in extra-terrestrial life, eh? (Brilliant segue, eh?). By the by, all that Canada speak is just me gearing up for another successful hockey season. For one team at least. I have no idea which, but I'm sure we'll all know by next July.
Does anyone care if there are aliens? Certainly not yours truly.

Have I enlightened anyone with this post? Probably not. It's not even what I was planning on writing about. Nu Nu. It's funny, I have this instinctive feeling whenever I type a wrong key. Which can be annoying, because blogger doesn't have the greatest response time, so my mistakes come out in excruciating slow motion. All right, a quarter of a second, but that's hardly the point. Then again, nothing is, is it?

Yello

Hey, long time no write. I just don't seem to have the drive, desire, whatever. Anyway, I was searching for a Mashal for Rosh Hashanah, and came up with a beauty. As we all know (thanks Matisyahu), the G-dly light in this world leaves as Rosh Hashanah starts and a brand new one comes out when we blow the Shofar. While that light is gone the world is, so to say, sleeping. Just like a body exists, but doesn't have any intellect or emotions when it's sleeping.
Point is, I was searching for a slightly more up to date parable. And it hit me. Rosh Hashanah is like Tommy John surgery. Usually, a player has surgery, is out for a couple months, and he comes back the same, or perhaps a little worse for the wear. But with Tommy John, a pitcher is out for up to 18 months. Sure, it's a long time, but when he comes back his fastball has gained four or five MPH. So to in the Jewish calendar. On Shabbos and other holidays we merely get a renewal of the current light, but on the new year we get a new radiance that has never before been revealed (see Tanya).
Good stuff, no?

A quick post

Sorry I've been negligent in posting-it's been pretty busy around here. In response to the two recent comments: yes, it was a great concert, and secondly there was no talk on who'd get the copyright on the stuff. I highly doubt, however, that anyone would really mind.
And, in case you're wondering, I am in fact a Shliach at the Yeshiva High School of the Twin Cities. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a challenge, and I'm exhausted every night, but it's the good kind of tired, when you know you've worked hard and are accomplishing. So then, off to sleep for me, I'll try for more a little later.