Easy hit generator

First off, a big Mazel Tov to Reuven and Tziporah Kasten, whose wedding I attended tonight in Oholei Torah wedding hall in Crown Heights, New York. I can just see it now, the happy couple goes online for the first time since their wedding, and what's the first thing they check after facebook? They Google their new name of course! And my site comes up! And I get some hits! Yeah!

This evening, as I was being transported into Crown Heights, I remembered something that Rabbi Schapiro said by last night's Farbrengen. He mentioned that Lubavitch is always in the spotlight in the Jewish world. We might be a tiny percentage of the world Jewish population, but everyone has an opinion on us. We're almost exactly like the Jewish people as a whole; a tiny percentage of the world's population, but everyone pays attention to our slightest move, and most of them hate our guts. So too with Lubavitch. You think anyone cares about Satmar's fights, or Bobov's fights, or any of the myriad fights in the Litvish world or Sephardi world et all...but when it comes to Lubavitch and Moshiach? Suddenly everyone has an opinion, everyone cares deeply, everyone hates our guts, the works.
Is this typical Mashpia group-ego building? I don't think so, because the dear Rabbi is often the first to curse out Lubavitchers when he thinks they're in the wrong. For example, a Bochur yesterday asked him to explain the Rambam, 11th Perek of Milchemes Beis Dovid, re: Moshiach and death. "So," Rabbi Schapiro said, "the Rambam says that a person can be assumed to be Moshiach, but if he doesn't finish the job, then he's not Moshiach. What's so difficult about that? Does this bother you theologically?" Of course it bothered this bochur theologically, but he insisted that it didn't. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that this is the only post of the week that I typed on a normal keyboard, and it's the shortest!

Connecting the anniversary

Tonight is the fourteenth of Kislev, the Rebbe's wedding anniversary, and in honor of that Rabbi Chaim Schapiro, who has received plenty of praise on this blog in the past, deigned to farbreng with us, his faithful students. It was of course an excellent farbrengen, and if course it would be impossible to give it over to you the way I got it. Whether this is a chisaron in me or whether it's unavoidable I haven't yet determined, but be that as it may, I suppose I'll just write down whatever it is that I can. Oh, and whoever it is that was by the farbie also, please, add whatever I skipped out.

There was once a bochur who visited someone or other in Miami who, when he he found out who exactly it was that was visiting him, said, "What? A Lubavitcher apikores?" The bochur asked why exactly he was an apikores. The guy related that he had heard a story of two bochurim on Merkos Shlichus who were stuck in some kosher food forsaken place, and they were getting desperate. Eventually they came to a grocery store, and prepared to buy some food that, while kosher, wasn't exactly up to Lubavitch's standards. One of the bochurim, as he pulled his money out of his wallet, saw a picture of the Rebbe and ceased and desisted, realizing that he could continue to live on bell peppers and apricots for the foreseeable future.
The bochur who was listening to this story was impressed, but the story teller wasn't. "Of G-d, who says that this food is kosher, he's not afraid, but of a Rebbe, a man of flesh and blood who says that it is ossur, he's afraid? Apikorsus!"
The bochur said, "What's the problem? We have a clear proof for such behavior from the Torah itself! Yosef the tzaddik, when he was about to sin, saw his father's face, and he too stopped himself. Are you calling Yosef an apikores?"

The point, my friends, is that we are people, and we relate to people. It's all very good to have a big G-d up there, but if we can't internalize it, or even relate to it, what good will be done?
_____________
A chossid once came to the third Rebbe of Lubavitch, the Tzemach Tzedek, and complained that he didn't believe in the existence of G-d. The Tzemach Tzedek said, "Tell me, you ever saw the czar?" The chossid answered that he had not. The Rebbe then asked him if he believed in the existence of the czar. The chossid answered affirmatively. The Rebbe asked him how he knew. "Well," said the chossid, "I know Ivan the furrier, and his cousin's third brother thrice removed and four times reconstituted saw the czar in S. Petersburg once. So, obviously he exists." The Tzemach Tzedek answered him then, "If so, you can take it on my word that there is a G-d."

This is similar to another story, with much the same plot, though presumably with a different chossid. The Rebbe asked his chossid, "Why do you care if you believe in Hashem or not?" "But Rebbe," cried out the chossid, "a Jew has to believe in Hashem!" The Tzemach Tzedek said, "If that's your answer, then you'll be okay."
______________
Once by farbrengen the Tzemach Tzedek mentioned a special hell that is looks exactly like this world, so the soul thinks it's in this lowly world of ours, but in fact it's totally fake. One chossid (and I'm undoubtedly a gilgul of this guy), said, "But Rebbe! How do we know that this world isn't that fake world in hell?" The Rebbe said, "Fool! Would I be here if that was the case?"
______________
There are many different types of people with a connection to Lubavitch, and the question has therefore arisen, "Who is a Lubavitcher chossid?" The answer is very simple: whoever can make a chilul Shem lubavitch, can desecrate the name of lubavitch, is a lubavitcher.
______________
Money is like a toilet. It's a wonderful thing to have, very useful too, but at the end of the day, it stinks pretty badly, and anyone who spends too much time involved with it has issues.
______________
So once the good Rabbi was reading a "litvish" magazine for bochurim, and it mentioned tips for bein hazmanim. It recommended that you always have a mesechta ready to claim as the one you're learning, and furthermore, to say that you're learning one of the later dafim, e.g. 80, because everyone knows the first few dafim of a mesechta well, but after that you should be safe. But just be careful that the mesechta you choose actually has a daf 80!
______________

These were the words of the good rabbi. All right, he said a lot more, but unfortunately my recording instrument at the time losses it's capability's to record because of insufficient battery power. Oh well. Just know that he farbrenged well, even if he did focus a bit too much on what comes after smicha, which I have no interest in discussing right now...

J for O-changing their messiah?

While I was doing the manly thing in the men's last night I had a epiphisite worthy of the man who coined the word. If you think about it, the message of Lubavitch today has changed drastically from what it was fifteen or so years ago. Back then, as the Soviet Union crumbled, the Berlin Wall fell down, American troops went into Somalia to feed the hungry, and various other life-style affirming events were taking place, the message of Lubavitch was that with all this world peace shtuff happening, Moshiach couldn't be far off. Never before had so many people gained their freedom in so short a time, and humanity was ready for the biggest paradigm change in history.
Nowadays, after 9/11 and Mumbai, with pirates once again preying on innocents, the stock market, housing market, automobile market, and every other market in shambles, it seems that the world can't get any darker. The only hope is...you guessed it...Moshiach!
Now, I'm not criticizing anyone, I'm just reporting this interesting phenomenon.

After I related the above thoughts to a friend of mine from Vermont who for some reason wants to remain anonymous, he asked me what my point was exactly. I told him that I didn't quite know, but would be happy if he could shed some light on the issue. He declined to enlighten me, merely commenting that times change, or something like that.
Speaking of times they are a changin', it was comforting to see the Governor of Illinois, whose name I won't even attempt to spell, get indicted for destroying whatever remaining public trust there remained in government. You know why George W. Bush completely and utterly rocks the house? Because even if he broke any laws, it was all in the service of his country. He broke them in order to protect the citizens of this great community. Maybe that's why liberals hate him so much; when one of their own is caught, it's because he was subverting laws for his personal benefit. Bush, on the other hand, may have subverted some laws, but he did it for us. Liberals just don't seem to understand that there is such a thing as a selfless person. They refuse to acknowledge that someone might believe in something greater than themselves. And this is precisely why Barack Obama is going to lose the 2012 elections all by himself. His administration will be the most corrupt one in decades, because the people in it are only looking out for themselves.

All right, enough self-righteous prattle for one night. How about a Halacha? Did you all know that in certain circumstances one is obligated to flush food down the toilet? Or that, in slightly different circumstances, one is required to take the monetary value of a pot and throw that down the toilet? Don't you love this religion?
You know, I always say that if I could be a different person, I'd be a black preacher. Have you seen Jeremiah Wright preach? He is incredible! I would love to be able to do that. And the gospel choirs? Divine! There's no way I could pull this kind of thing off in a Chabad house.
Still, no Christian can compare when it comes to religion. Sure, they might have the sights and sounds, but pnimius? Hardly. I mean, great, some Jewish guy died for my sins. Whoop de do. Now what, go out and convert the heathens? Please tell me there's more to it than that.

Oh, I was trying to avoid the pretentious shtuff, and there I go again. Sorry 'bout that. I'm just trying to figure out a topic that doesn't lend itself to that kind of perversion. Hmmm... Oh well, you'll get over it soon enough.

Yechi someone or other!

Last night Rabbi Nosson Gourarie formerly of Buffalo, now of Monsey, came to farbreng in yeshiva. He was quite good, one of the old style, one of the guys people who make fun of farbrengers make fun of, the type of guy who tells it like it is and doesn't care to curse people out, including some of the head honchos of our organization. When it was all over I was getting a drink of water from the water fountain and mentioned something to a friend. The good Rabbi happened to be walking by, and he asked me what I had said. I answered, "I said that it's impossible to blog a farbrengen." He asked me what a blog was, and I explained that it was a type of website. "So the farbrengen is not on the web?" he asked, and I confirmed that statement. I'm not sure he understood what I was saying though. He was relieved that this particular Chassidic gathering wasn't going on the world wide web, but I don't think he comprehended my essential point. You see, it's easy enough to parody a farbrengen online, but to transcribe the real thing? It's impossible, for one simple reason: there's no food online. Alcohol you can do without, but food? It's just not happening.
Anyway, I suppose I could try and cover some of the main topics. Essentially, he called for us to become real. Again, if I use the words he used, it'll sound like I'm making a joke of the whole thing, which is exactly what I'm trying to avoid. I know that I rarely take anything seriously, but sometimes, you know, these things can't be avoided. When a rabbi is accusing you of subverting the entire existence of the group you most closely identify with, it's difficult to remain unaffected. Oh sure, I still made my smart comments in the back, but they were only half-hearted attempts.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Rabbi Chaim Schapiro, leader of Morristown Machon L'hora and defender of the faith, got into another verbal altercation with the mikveh bochur. Unfortunately, it only lasted a few minutes, because I had to ask a halachic question regarding spoons, but, as I said to the Bochur later, "Yasher Koach, you've given me what to blog about." See, as Lubavitcher Chassidim, we have the custom to say, in grace after meals, "Harachamon hu yevarech es adoneinu moreinu v'rabbeinu." This bochur first wanted to know if this was halachicly acceptable, and then where the source of it was. When he learned that in fact it was common practice to add all sorts of personal prayers to the standard as laid out by the men of the great assembly, and that this particular request was laid out in the book of customs of the Lubavitcher Chassidim, he pressed on, much to my delight and Rabbi Schapiro's annoyance. At least, that's what it looked like to this reporter. He asked, "Do you say it still?" The answer was in the affirmative, and the next question was the $64,000 one: "Why?"
Rabbi Schapiro, that paragon of wisdom, comprehensible sense, and incomprehensible classes, paused, and, allowing the tension to increase to a bursting crescendo of passionate eloquence is an ancient and hackneyed plot device, said several immortal words: "I don't know." The bochur was understandably flabbergasted, and he proclaimed for everyone in a three table circumference to hear, "You mean you do things that you don't understand?" "Sure," said the Rabbi, "I never pretended to know everything. If you want, I can give you some biurim, i.e. it's spiritual, or something like that, but honestly, I don't know."
At this point my chavrusa started getting antsy, and he called me back to our place to continue shteiging. I told him that I was waiting to ask my questions about spoons. Rabbi Schapiro turned to me and said, "No you weren't, you were listening into my bubbe maisos, but nu, ask your question," which I did; the answer, by the way, was that it's (whatever it is) talking about the head of the spoon, not the handle.
Be that as it may, I still found the conversation to be quite interesting, and I hope you did too.C

Carl and the horse: A Parable

They sat there, awaiting their execution, wondering when their final supper would be served. There were thirteen in all, one leader and twelve men. They all knew for what crime they were being punished, and it saddened them greatly to think that their cause would die with them. They had no following, no gatherers at the gates, pleaders of the cause before the tribunal that had sentenced them to this most final of ends. The leader arose, and drawing his faithful disciples near, asked if they would be willing to go through with their punishment. Carl, the cynic of the group, commented that they really had no choice. The leader and his faithful followers were used to Carl's jibes, and they paid him not the least attention. Carl was quite out out, and he determined to get one last laugh out of his comrades. He spaced out as he tried to think of one final brilliant line, and only spaced in when their last meal was served. The leader took one look at the succulent portobella mushrooms and the side of spelt cookies, and decided that he'd look better if he died hungry. Carl and the others, waiting for their leader to dig in, realized that he intended to do no such thing, and they decided to follow suit, so that they should not be separated in their final moments. Carl, not a particularly spiritual person at the best of times, wasn't going to let some hippie nuts run his life, and he took a big bite out of a mushroom, and he then proceeded to make short work of the rest of the food. As this was ample food for thirteen, it didn't quite all agree with Carl's stomach, and soon after he regretted making every sign of enjoyment over the food, because he was prostrated over a hole, retching for all his life, or whatever was left of it. The leader, never one to miss a chance, walked over and made as if he was healing and simultaneously being prostrated to. Carl was having none of this, and he dirtied the robes of his putative master. The leader wasn't impressed by this particular devotion, but he realized that he could probably spin it somehow to his advantage.
Carl was just getting up off the floor when armed guards walked in to the cell, grabbed the thirteen men, and took them outside to the place of execution.

The executioner, preparing the tools of his trade, noticed a few horses missing from the wild horses pulling apart people alive machine. He asked the King where the horses were, and before the leader could proclaim that a miracle had obviously taken place, the horses were sighted in the distance, being ridden to and fro by an uncouth band of ruffians, namely the princes of the land and certain age-appropiate peers of the realm. Almost immediately, pandemonium broke lose, and he could only be restrained by a crack squad of soldiers, who were supposed to have been doing the same for the prince and his merry band of friends. The King, growing incensed at these goings on, called to the executioner and commanded him to put things right. The executioner, unskilled in the social graces which are so becoming in a man of blood, didn't quite know how to react. He reached out for his axe and began to swing wildly at the group of prisoners. His was a particularly large axe, and it was accompanied by a particularly wild sort of swing. The prisoners were slight of build, and though you would not have known it of them at that moment, bereft of the splendid robes which marked them as ascetics of the kingdom, they were rather hungry. Swung the axe, and half a dozen were felled to the right of the executioner; swung the mighty axe once again, and half a dozen were felled to his left.
Only Carl, who had been lying on the ground, expelling the rest of his supper, was the only one spared. This wasn't to be for long though, as the prince, realizing his father's displeasure, waltzed in on one of the formerly missing horses, headed straight for Carl. Carl had never been too brave, but now, facing certain death, he suddenly thought up the great line that would cement his place in the gospel for ever more. Unfortunately, just as he began to utter the great words, what was to be, he realized, his fatal line, the horse speeded up, and put an end to these pretensions to legacy forever.

Diet TRS

It was cold in 770 today. It was so cold that I was glad I was wearing my coat. Then, as I was Davening Mincha, it started getting hot. So that was nice.

In other news, it's ridiculously late, and I have to catch a ride back to Morristown in a couple hours. So please excuse me if this is all I post for now. Go satisfy yourself with yesterday's post, which apparently no one bothered to read.

Oh yeah, and one more thing: Last week I meant to cut my nails, but I was on Long Island and my nail clippers were in Morristown. Fine. This week, I brought them to Crown Heights. I thought about cutting them whilst in the Mikveh. I had half an hour before candle lighting during which I did nothing. Of course, I forgot to cut them. Dang.

Watched Digital Animals: Part II: You expected different?

So, that article came out. You can see me, sitting next to Rabbi Gancz, with the writing on my Yarmulkeh. Unfortunately, my quote didn't make it into the story. Well, maybe that's a good thing, because I really didn't say anything too intelligent. It was pretty funny, because we were prepped for nearly an hour about what and what not to say, and then who do we get interviewed by? Some Jewish guy from a local newspaper. Who just wanted the standard shtuff. Who got the standard shtuff.
Now, if it had been mano-a-mano, things would've been different. Or maybe not. It's too late to think about these things. Now this is a truly horrible article. Read it.

Instead I'll tell you a cute little episode that occurred to yours truly soon after I had finished blogging last night. So it was around 1:15, and I see a minivan pull up near the side entrance two stories under my window. I wondered who it could possibly be, and instead of doing the intelligent thing and going to sleep I stayed to find out who it could possibly be. Imagine my surprise when a couple of chassidishe guys roll out and start transferring books from the trunk to the front. Yeah, I wasn't too surprised, primarily because it was 1:15 in the morning. Most things don't surprise me at that hour. So anyway, there I am, trying to figure out if I've brushed my teeth or not, and my roommate walks into our room, fresh from a shower, and dumps a load of Breslov propaganda on the table. Turns out these guys came into the dorm at 1:00, looking for charity and proselytizing.
Now, I'm all for Yafutzu Maanosecha Chutzah, but at 1:00 AM? In a Lubavitch Yeshiva? Are these people crazy or something?

Watched digital animals: Part I: Greek for Dummies

Moving right along, I watched the new Ohad/Yossi Green music video, and while it's very touching, with all the pictures and whatnot, the song is not very good. As in, it shouldn't be going on anyone's CD anytime soon. I appreciate the thought behind it, and I was moved by it too, but really, it's not ready for primetime. Truth be told, it's better than what I was expecting, a sappy love-song to Shluchim.

The reason I bring this up is because I think there's been a little bit of overkill here. Reading that Asher Federman (my old counsellor!) is building a new Chabad House in the Virgin Islands is absolutely amazing. Reading yet another memorial on shmais? Not so much. Listen, I appreciate people's need to express themselves, but does every single person have to? There's a new mivtza going through Lubavitch, that all the Rebbe's Torah should be learned by the Shloshim. That is a great thing. We should focus on these positive outcomes. Yes, there is a need for memorial, but at the end of the day, what are they going to accomplish? If people would devote their energies to making new peulos instead of writing about the past, a lot more would be accomplished. Obviously.

Speaking of that, Chanukah is coming up, and once again it's time to dust off Al Hanisim '29, which is, as faithful readers of this blog will recall, one of my top five favorite maamarim. There are two main points of this maamar. The first is an explanation of the war between the assimilated Jew peoples and the faithful-to-their-father-in-heaven peoples. What was the root of their argument? The Greekifieds refused to accept the existence of G-d. Simple, no? You would think that things would've change in the last two thousand plus years, but I suppose that wise King Solomon was correct when he asserted that, "There is nothing new under the sun." The Greeks asserted the primacy of reason, as does our culture. If they didn't understand it, well, obviously it couldn't exist. And even the particularly enlightened ones, who acknowledged that reason is not the be all and end all of human existence, refused to accept a higher power. Why? Presumably because they were having too much fun attending toga parties.

So what is the way to fight this invidious form of human behaviour? There's only one way: with Mesiras Nefesh. And that doesn't mean giving your life up either. It can also mean deciding to say Tehillim after Davening instead of running to breakfast and getting runny egg yolk from sunny side up eggs all over your freshly laundered shirt. Which happened anyway, as it turned out, but I suppose that's one of the reasons for sweaters.

And why should we fight the good fight? Well, chiefly because we should. I mean, what else are you going to spend your life doing exactly? Transferring little green pieces of paper around an around 'till they get dizzy? What's the sense in that? At the end of the day, does it leave you feeling fulfilled? All the rich people claim that it doesn't, but obviously they've been doing the wrong thing with their money. They should have been giving it to me. I'm not sure of that would make them feel fulfilled, but it wouldn't hurt to experiment, right?

My very own chabad.org'ing

So a mashpia was telling me how he doesn't like being a mashpia, because whenever he goes to a farbrengen all he thinks is, "Hey, what he's saying is really good! I could say that next time I farbreng!" The poor guy never gets to enjoy a farbrengen because he is constantly thinking about his own future performance. The same thing is, I'm sure, a problem of many professional athletes. They can't enjoy a sporting event because they're constantly focusing on how they can improve their own performance.
The reason I'm locquasing so much on this particular problem is because I have a similar one. Tonight I was learning a maamar which dealt with mesiras nefesh. The whole time, instead of enjoying the maamar, I was trying to figure out how I could tie it into Mumbai and the recent events there. In the end, this particular maamar wasn't conducive to being blogged, and I was left to detail the process instead of the maamar itself. So I suppose it's a bit of a let down, but I'm sure we'll all get over this disappointment relatively quickly.

Meanwhile, in other news, there was recently an argument here in Morristown regarding our peula for the shloshim of the kedoshim. One person said that we should arrange for all the Rebbe's Torah to be learned, while another maintained that we should instead all learn the same thing. It's an old argument, reminiscent of the controversy re: Rambam and Daf Yomi. I wouldn't presume to offer an opinion here, because I don't have one, but I would say that it's really impressive when people take a tragic event to heart and try to do something to mitigate the suffering, however small their efforts may be.
And, amazingly enough, I'm now able to tie in the maamar! Mesiras Nefesh, when a Jew gives his life for G-d, reveals G-d's name down here in the most powerful way possible. This is because it causes people to realize that there is a G-d in the world, and he is sanctified by this. Listen, I'm not offeing excuses here. What G-d did here was absolutely inexcusible. But at the end of the day, it would be even worse to think that just because a death was senseless it means that it was also meaningless. Because that would be the biggest insult to those who gave their lives, to say that they died for naught. I don't know why this happened; I don't ever want to be able to justify it. However, I do want to be able to say that something positive came out of it.

And you know what? That's what the kedoshim would have wanted also. You can bet that had this chas v'shalom happened to other shluchim, they would have also tried their hardest to make sure that it was not in vain.

Guest thoughts

A couple of things happened to me today that restored my faith in mankind. Number one, I, along with a bunch of guys here, was interviewed by the New Jersey Jewish News for an article they're doing about our response to the attack this past week. I didn't say anything particularly brilliant, and if I make it into the article I'll make sure to post a link. In general, we just said the usual trite things, as can be found in any of the many articles currently posted on shmais etc.

The second thing which happened to me today was that I received the following email from Harotze B'ilam Shmo. I don't necessarily agree with everything he said, but at the exact same time, I think he does make a lot of sense. So please, ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, and fish of all ages, lend your eyes and hearts to the following:

Since you were bemoaning the scarce activity in your pathetic inbox I decided to have pity on your wretched existence and send you something. Truth to be told, I'm sending it more for me than for you. It seems I need to vent; it seems you are the perfect outlet.

The following are jottings of a somewhat incoherent thought process [if you can call it that]. Take it or leave it. Feel free to comment or to completely ignore it. In short do with it as you please.

ג כסלו תשס''ט

Yesterday I saw an open letter by a Shliach addressed to G-d. It made me laugh. It was a cynical, bitter "you think He's listening?!" laugh.

Over Shabbos a senior community figurehead was trying to sell the whole positive spin thing typical of the party line. Something about there not being a newspaper in the world that doesn't have "Chabad House" on the front page, "יש נביא בישראל" and other such nonsense. I lashed out at him.

I'm just a young pisher who refuses to leave his brains at the door. I don't think I said anything that others weren't thinking – whether the fundamentalist inside of them admits it or not.

The raw emotion pain is only one aspect of it. There is also the resurfacing of the philosophical/theological problems which are older than time - The Problem of Evil, G-d being all benevolent, and His השגחה [or lack thereof]. It's events like these that shake the very bedrock of out belief system.

Don't get me wrong, I may not be Augustine but I do know that there may be no good answers to many of these questions [if there are any at all]. There's a reason why they call it faith. Fine, I'm ok with that. I can accept that we need to bite the bullet and tough luck. But why the pathetic need to grab at intellectual straws. Be human. Say I don't know. Let it hurt. Can we let the bodies cool off before we Chabad.org it.

I have no doubt that by the time the Kinnus HaShluchos comes around, if not before then, a tear-jerking video presentation will be put together. When it will be shown there won't be a dry eye in the room. They'll be 10 more Shluchim sent to India and we'll be able to say "See, we don't back down. We only get bigger and stronger". Whoopie doo! How does that answer any questions? Do you feel placated? Vindicated?

Again, I'm no idiot and I understand the need to capitalize on the זמן התעוררות when we can reach people normally beyond our scope, and of course time is of essence, but even the Rebbe only responded to the Kfar Chabad massacre three days later. It's as if, if one is to be a proper chossid or Shliach they must have the robotic mechanical auto-pilot divorced from any human emotion. As if we lost the capacity to feel.

I'm not sure what I want with this. It seems I'm rambling. I probably am. I'm fine with that.

Of course in retrospect we will look back and see how we have grown stronger, how we did transform the pain, loss and grief into comfort, rebirth and newfound positive energy. That's what we do; that's who we are - As Jews in general and Chassdim in particular. What bothers me is when people mistake futuristic retrospect [how's that for an oxymoron] with the very painful present.

If there would have not been a Churban Bayis would Judaism have flourished in the Diaspora? If there would have not been the holocaust would an independent State of Israel [whether you like it or not] exist? If there would have not been Gimmel Tammuz would there be 4000 Shluchim across the globe? In all probability the answer to all those questions is a resounding no. Therefore what?

Our brave responses to those horrific happenings are only testimony to the greatness of our people, not greatness of our G-d. Our response does not justify His actions.

You can all me a heretic [I can back these statements up with traditional sources jftr], but by the Churban G-d slept, during the holocaust – He slept. He slept on Gimmel Tammuz. And on Rosh Chodesh Kislev 2008 once again – G-d slept.