Bogus

This is ridiculous. Here are people dying for freedom, and all these morons care about is their race. Won't anyone stand up and say, "I support democracy, or some reasonable approximation thereof"?

Yesh mukdam

Why did Aaron make the golden calf? Because he saw that the Israelites had killed Chur. That's in verse five. In verse six, the Torah says that the Jews got up to sport, which connotes adultery and bloodshed. "Here too," the Tanchuma states, "Chur was killed."

Say what? When did he die, before the altar was built or after?

Salaried

There were two missives in the 22 Shevat issue of Nshei Chabad which are worthy of response on this worthy blog, but I'll only be responding to one, for reason which shall remain obvious to those who are already cognizant of them.

There was an article in a previous issue of the newsletter which stated that Chabad Yeshivos provide wonderful educations. The author provided various proofs for his assertion, and came to the conclusion that Lubavitcher bochurim learn all the skills necessary in their educational endeavors for two (and only two) professions: shlichus and entrepreneurism. And that's it. Because that's all you need: either you go out on Shlichus, which is really entrepreneurial in and of itself, or you start your own business, which is really Shlichus.

In this most recent issue someone responded that the above assertion was actually incorrect. Contrary to the author's beliefs, the fact that bochurim leave yeshiva with a very limited skill set reflects a major deficiency in the system, not a positive. As the first responder says, there's a very limited number of shlichus spots open, and many people simply don't have the ability to be entrepreneurs.

In response, the author of the original article says that the main thing which matters is the person's own faith and belief and self. If you believe it enough, it will come true. There's no need to go to any sort of school, because the most successful people all just believed in themselves, and this is exactly what the Lubavitch educational system teaches.

As the commentaries would say, this is the end of the quote.

And as the commentaries would undoubtedly be too polite to say, this is bogus. The best way to respond to naivete like this is to point out the Rebbe's establishment of vocational schools in Israel. The only way to disprove someone who has drunk the Kool-Aid is to bring something which directly contradicts them.

Next up, it's simply ridiculous to assert that everyone could start their own business or at least trail blaze a new path in life. After all, if this was the case, where would the doctors come from? I'm all for people starting their own medical companies, but I would like them to have gone through some medical training first.

Besides, most people, yours truly included, simply don't have the temperament, inclination, or natural-born abilities to make something on their own. The author seems to have these abilities, and is astonished that the rest of the human race does not share his own nature. At the very least, he assumes, seven or eight years in the Yeshiva system should drill enough self-belief in someone that they're able to make it on their own in the big wide world. After all, as long as you believe in yourself, you can do anything, right?

The purpose of this post is not to posit a deficiency in the Lubavitch educational system, but rather to say that wishful thinking is no substitute for an actual education. Quoting Tony Robbins and thinking that there's some sort of mantle which will fit all Lubavitchers is absolutely ridiculous. Everyone is different. There are 600,000 general souls, and each soul has their own path in life. Sure, there's one Rebbe, but that Rebbe was smart enough to know that everyone is not the same.

Now you know

In honor of the upcoming Hasc concert, I thought it'd be a good idea to go through my favorite Hasc songs, in no particular order. The number next to them is the number of times I've listened to them on my iPod, which of course does not reflect the number of times I listened to them on my previous 1.5 iPods.

1. Yoel Sharabi's Hineni Kahn (1023). As many of you will know, I sang together with him, and yes, he really had that hair.

2. MBD's Golus Paroh (1185). Apparently this is the Weiss family's favorite song, and truth be told, I really can't blame them.

3. It took this long to get to Avremel? But here he is, with Eliyau Hanavi (127).

4. And again, with L'shana Habah (1279) . No words, just right. Well, almost no words. Still just right.

5. And back with MBD, Daagah Minayim (31). What can I say? He's right.

6. Tzadik, from Avraham Rosenblum and Ruby Harris (1551).

7. MBD again, with Ko Amar (63). I think this might be my favorite song of the bunch. Maybe that's because it's so easy to sing.

8. MBD with Mimkomcha (703). I love this song to bits, but the intro is a bit grating after the first thirty listens. But that's ok.

9. It's funny, because I really don't listen to that much MBD in general, but he's on the list here again with Heaven on Earth (1032).

10. The one and only Dedi with Elokai Neshoma (1536). On a side note: isn't everyone one and only? I mean, even people with identical DNA are different, no?

11. Chaim Dovid with Nafshenu Chiksah (1535). Truth is, his Open Up Your Gates (327) should also be on this list. As should the finale of Hasc III, There's a Small Piece of Heaven (3). As should the finale of Hasc IV, Candles (19), even if MBD sounds terrible there. And once I'm there, is it fair to leave out either Forever One (10, 63)?

12. Piamenta's Birkat Hamazon (67). I didn't always appreciate the brilliance of this one, but now I do. Strange things happen, eh?

13. Avraham Fried, Dedi, and Ohad's Yossi Green medley (641). Gorgeous. I wish Avremel would put out a cd of oldies, and give prominent billing to Kadaish (112) off of Goodbye Golus. My heart stops every time I hear that chorus. Fortunately it's not a very long one, otherwise I'd have to put Hatzalah on speed dial. But yeah, the first two numbers covered in the Hasc medley should certainly receive preferential treatment. V'zakeinu (79) and Keayol (15) are, as I already said, gorgeous.

14. The next two songs are, now that I'm further reflecting, possibly unworthy of their place on this list. Boruch Haboh (38) from last year's Hasc is great, but is it an all time great? Especially with Lipa cracking in the middle? Which brings up another point. Some people are fantastic in the studio, like Yaaov Shwekey, but aren't worth a lick live. Or else, maybe he is amazing live, but recordings of him live aren't much. I wouldn't know. Others are fantastic in studio and live and in subsequent recordings thereof, like Avraham Fried. Everyone knows that I love Lipa, but recordings of him live aren't so great. When in a studio he's able to do a lot more than when he's bound by the laws of physics, but seeing him on a stage? His presence more than makes up for any deficiencies in his voice. Not that there are many, but they certainly do exist. The same applies to the next song, the greatest hits medley (40), also from last year's (XXIII) Hasc. I really had it on this list (which mirrors the "Hasc Classics" playlist of the official iPod Touch of TRS) because of one song, Vehi Sheomdah 7). Like everyone else, I love that song. But now that I actually have Shwekey singing it, do I need this version? Especially with Fried's corniness? I understand that it's a family trait (ouch! that wasn't nice!), but again, after thirty listens, is it really necessary? Ich vais nisht.

Not funny

Which of the following two videos is a bigger Chilul Hashem?

Blame Canada

In today's Chumash the verse (42:28) speaks of the tribe's misfortunes, and they say, "What is this that G-d has done to us?" As far as I can tell, this is the first time in the Torah that people actively invoke Hashgocha Pratis in a negative manner. Before this, who ever blamed G-d when something went wrong? In fact, how many narratives went wrong in the first place? Sure, there are stories of G-d punishing people, but does anyone in those stories actively say, "Hey, this is G-d's fault, why is he doing this to me?" If I'm wrong, tell me.

Parched

One of the issues attendant with non-attendance at your average university level philosophy course is the inability to articulate the buzzwords necessary to appear as if you know what you're talking about. For example, today I had a long conversation with a customer about the Cowon J3. Frankly, I don't know much about it (and I can't see why anyone would want to know much about it), but the thing was that I knew slightly more about it than he did. More importantly, I know all the buzzwords of mp3ology, and thus I was able to appear much more knowledgeable than I really am, and I was able to give learned opinions regarding his future purchasing habits. After all, my goal is to help people self-actualize, if not hyphenate themselves.

My point in the above lengthy example is that I really don't know how to express myself well when it comes to the comment which I want to make on today's Parsha. Basically, Rashi asks a simple question, "Why is Yaakov so worried about Binyamin going on a journey?" I mean, I get that he'd be worried about his youngest son (who by the by already had ten of his own children, but that's neither here nor there) going off to Egyptland, but why did he specifically mention the journey? You think that by staying at home you'll escape disaster? Rashi answers that we see from here that the accuser prosecutes at a time of peril. So yeah, logically there's no difference, but when it's more dangerous, it's more dangerous.

The philosophical point that I think is important here is that life just is. There's no way to know what's going on, what's going to happen, or whatever. I'm sure there's some fancy philosophical term for all this, but it seems to be very fatalist. Like, whatever is going to happen is going to happen, and there's nothing you or your redundancies can do about it. And just as you're about to go eat that cheeseburger and jump off the Empire State Building and dedicate your next six lives to reading Bill Bryson, something happens. And that something is G-d. In this case, he's making sure that climbing the Empire State Building is more dangerous than you might think at first blush, but be that as it may, there's shtuff happening that you can change. Sort of like "Don't go into the desert and you won't get thirsty," but not so cause and effective. Or maybe it is.

Warning:

The following quote from wikipedia is why I'm not planning on going to university:

Sleepwalking, also known as somnambulism, is a sleep disorder belonging to the parasomnia family. Sleepwalkers arise from the slow wave sleep stage in a state of low consciousness and perform activities that are usually performed during a state of full consciousness. These activities can be as benign as sitting up in bed, walking to the bathroom, and cleaning, or as hazardous as cooking, driving, writing a thesis, extremely violent gestures, grabbing at hallucinated objects, or even homicide.

Who knew that writing a thesis was hazardous?

Left with memories

A couple of years ago the Yeshiva High School of the Twin Cities had a banquet to celebrate the end of the Yeshiva year. When I say "celebrate", of course, it has different meanings for different people. Some of the Bochurim are undoubtedly quite happy that it's all over, while others are probably quite sad. As for me? I remember doing the postmortem this summer after finishing up Merkos Shlichus in Kansas and Missouri; I felt that I had accomplished a lot, but that there was a lot more that I could have done. Nine or ten months later, I feel pretty much the same. Thank G-d I accomplished a lot but there's still that nagging feeling inside that I could have done so much more. Oh well, that's life.

In other news, Rabbi Yosef Eizicovics Farbrenged beautifully last night. He said a lot of shtuff, most of which applied to the Bochurim here; of course, there was also lots of other goodies, which I'll be happy to share here now: And here we go...

There was once a Jewish community in Russia which received funding for various activities, including a school, hospital, orphanage, poor house, softball league, and various other functions. The government notified them that there would be an inspection, to see that the money was going to a good cause, and the community was worried. They were mostly Misnagdim, and therefore mostly normal. Unfortunately, there was also a small number of Chassidim among them, who acted in ways that were slightly out of the norm: they walked around ignoring everything and everybody, thinking Chassidus; they Farbenged 'till the wee hours of the morning; they spontaneously danced in the streets; in general, they weren't the very best ambassadors for a nice snaggy community. The inspection was drawing nearer, and the community council couldn't decide what to do. Two days before the government was delegation was to arrive, one of the town's men hit on a brilliant plan.
The great day arrived, and all the Chassidim of the town were crammed into a Shul, lured by the promise of a massive Farbrengen, at the community council's expense, and warned not to leave until the next morning. The government delegation toured the town's Jewish institutions, and turned to go. They were on the way to the train station when one of them noticed a large building that had yet to be inspected. He mentioned this to the other members of the delegation, and they all went over to investigate. The city council, which was accompanying them, tried to persuade them not to go, but it was to no avail, and the Shul was entered.
The scene that greeted their eyes was, to put it exaggeratedly, incredible. There was a massive Farbrengen going on: Chassidim were dancing on tables with bottles in their hands, doing somersaults and other stunt-like activitys; others were still Davening Shacharis, and they paced around with deep concentration; still others were singing to themselves, looking for all the world like shepherds in the Urals. The community council didn't know what to say. When everyone on the tour was outside again the head of the government delegation asked the community leader a question, "Why didn't you show us this before?" The leader started to explain, "Well, you see, we, um...". "It's quite impressive," said the government head, "you Jews are truly brilliant. In all the Russian towns and villages, all the crazies wander around and bother everyone. This is the first time I've ever seen them all gathered together, in one place, where they won't bother anyone. This is truly incredible!"

The lesson? Craziness is no problem when everyone is together. Trite, but true.

Once there was a (rich) guy who was brought closer to Judaism through two Jews, a Shliach in beautiful New Jersey, and a Rabbi Kaminetzky, or maybe that's Kamenetzky. Regardless, as you may or may not have noticed, one was a Lubavitcher and the other a Misnaged. The guy had a baby boy, and called in the Shliach to find out the different honors that are part of a Bris. The Shliach explained everything, and said that in Lubavitch, the biggest honor is reading the Rebbe's letter.
At the Bris the father announced, "With the reading of the Rebbe's letter, Rabbi XXX, Shliach of XXX; and with the holding of the baby during the reading of the Rebbe's letter, Rabbi Kaminetzky." The Shliach stood up to read, and Rabbi Kaminetzky stood up to go. He simply refused to hold the baby while the Rebbe's letter was being read, and was prepared to embarrass himself, the father, and everyone attending because of it. He was ready to lose a rich supporter.
After the Bris was over the father said to the Shliach, "I always knew that there was some friction between Lubavitch and Misnagdim, but I never saw it until now."

And what can we, us fine-feathered fiends, learn from this story? A lot of things: A. There are haters in this world, B. There are people who don't like the Lubavitcher Rebbe very much. As Rabbi Yos says, with regard to the Rebbe, you're either with him or against him, there ain't no middle road.

Yoni Chanowitz, fellow Shliach here at MyYeshiva told over a story about the Rebbe Rashab. After the Rebbe had finished saying a Maamar a guy came over and said, "Devarim Hayotzim Min Halev Nichnasim El Halev (words which come into the heart go into the heart), and I didn't feel the Maamar you just said at all. Hhmm?" The Rebbe Rashab gave him a piercing glance, and said, "Don't blame me if you don't have a heart."

Ouch

What the heck?!

Yossi Kreiman, the guy who sat behind me while we were learning smicha and cracked corny jokes and knew smicha better than anyone and loved this blog and- gone? What the heck? This isn't supposed to happen. What the heck is G-d doing?!