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?!

The wizard of us

Anyone who has ever spent significant time around me will know that I often sing one of several songs, depending on the situation I find myself in or the mood I'm currently enjoying. Many of these songs are Jewish, but there are a few that aren't Jewish. Amazingly enough, they're all from around 1994. I'm not sure why I remember the hit songs from that year's daily bus rides any better than any other year's, but I suppose that is as it is. Not that I remember most of the songs- to the contrary, I generally just know some of the tune and bits of the chorus. But it's enough. These songs are all non-Jewish, but they're all family-friendly (no females), and in a good cause.

http://youtu.be/AMD2TwRvuoU

http://youtu.be/16FdJrrAWSo

http://youtu.be/pFD9lW9PGM4

Last but not least, here's a cover of "One of us" sung by Prince. I'd put the original up, but I'm morally opposed to giving Joan Osborne any airplay on TRS. Besides, I am a bit of a homeboy.

http://youtu.be/DoKtrBoogbM

Whoever thought?

As some of you might be aware, I recently did a nice little interview about religion. In the comments of that post, I was asked a few questions. Here's my answers.

e: Would you observe the traditional seven-day mourning period if your kid left the religion, but didn't marry a non-Jew?

A: I would ask my local orthodox rabbi for the correct approach to this issue. In general, I think it would probably be based on how my kid left Judaism. Did they convert to another religion, or merely stop practicing this one? But again, I would let Daas Torah decide.

Actually, as you can see, I was only asked one question. And now you know what I would do.

A review of Hasc 23

There are some things in this world whose worth is obvious to all. Everyone can appreciate that a freshly baked muffin from Breadsmith is in all cases superior to a stale cookie from Ostreichers (not that I have anything against Ostreichers. On the contrary, I'm a big fan of their products. But still). Sure, the obnoxious among us could come up with an example that disproves my assertion (as Lipa would say, "Diet Diet"), but generally speaking, kulam modim that one is better than the other.

There are other things in this world whose worth is entirely subjective. I sell earphones for a living, and I would challenge you to find ten randomly selected people who can say that the Shure 535s are any worse sounding than a pair of triple-driver Westones or a copper Turbine Pro, or a Klipsch X10, or a Sennheiser X8, or a Grado GR8, or... you get the point. All these earphones cost a ton of money, and they all sound great. Of course different people will prefer different ones, and they'll all have their own reasons for those choices. Does that make any opinion and more valid than another? Besides, something like 97% of people can't tell the difference anyway. As the holy Jewish books say, "On taste and smell there can be no argument." Point is, everything I'm going to be writing in this review is my opinion and my opinion only.

And another thing. It's very difficult to take the full measure of a cd on just a few listenings. It's a scientific fact (I'm not making this up) that the more often you hear something (be it music or a campaign ad) the more you like it. Also, I'm judging this cd based on what it is, a cd, not a concert. What I mean to say is that there are many things which work wonderfully well in a concert setting which don't work well at all on a music cd. I loved the dialogues between Avraham Fried and Lipa, but how often can you listen to them before you get sick? Same goes for much of this concert- it was absolutely tremendous being there, but to listen to it repeatedly? Again, watching this on DVD, which you aren't likely to do more than a few times, is entirely different than listening on your iPod.

Having got all the caveats out of the way, it's time for an actual review.

The show begins with Nachum Segal announcing that it's time for A Time for Music 23, and Yisroel Lamm swings into action with the Neginah Orchestra and the Choir running through a review of everyone's favorite Avremel and Lipa tunes. It's well done, but it serves more to whet the appetite for what lies ahead than to really produce any masterpieces. Which I suppose is the point of intros. So good for them.

There are three types of people out there: those who love everything Avremel/Lipa do, those who hate everything they do, and the three percent of the population that lies somewhere in between. The first type will obviously be buying this cd sight unseen, and the latter won't touch it with a ten foot pole. So who is this review for? It's for the people in the middle, the ones who like Jewish music but don't feel the need to own every single recording of every tnuah of every Chazak or Hentelach. Will this cd be a good buy for them?

The first song of the main course is the old standard Mareh Kohen, very well sung by the two stars of the show. I'll be honest- there's at least twenty songs that I'd love to hear these two guys cover before this one, but for all that, it's an enjoyable experience.

Moving quickly along we've got Avraham Fried's Boruch Haboh, again with Lipa dueting. The gold standard for this song, at least until now, was the one Avremel sung at the YU concert so many moons ago, which after you got past all the annoying chatter in the beginning, was incredibly powerful. This version, I think, takes the cake, with both singers giving it their all. The only thing marring it is a bit of distortion with Lipa when he's really screaming, but I can live with that. Notwithstanding that, it's a really solid song, and probably worth the price of admission in and of itself. I'll certainly be adding it to my "HASC classics" playlist, where it will join other classics like MBD's Golus Paroh (2), Ko Amar (6) and Mimkomcha (7), Fried's Eliyahu Hanavi and Lashanah Habah (both 3), and the great Yoel Sharabi's Hineni Kahn (1). There are a few others, but those are the important ones. And again, I love "A small piece of heaven," but how often can you listen to the same English song?

The next song is one of those which would have been wonderful to see in person, but which grow tiring after six or seven repetitions. It's a version of R' Yom Tov Ehrlich's classic story of the salesangel and his attempts to sell the Torah to the various nations. Avremel and Lipa really do a great job with this one, though inhabitants of France (you know who you are) might find Fried's interpretation of their accent to be the tiniest bit offensive. I assume that there were myriad special effects or costumes or something to go along with this song, but since it's difficult to tell these things solely through hearing them, I must withhold comment. If someone wants to send me a DVD of the concert I won't say no, but until then my lips are sealed. They're not sealed regarding the song this one leads into, which is Lipa's Bichsav-Baal Peh. It was never my favorite, but it's great to hear Avremel really get into it.

Lipa's off stage for the next number, a melody of Chabad Niggunim sung by Avraham Fried. Nothing too remarkable, though my years in 770 have conditioned me to expect a "Yechi Hamelech" in Didan Notzach, but I suppose that would be asking a lot of the concert committee. It's a very nice melody, as melodies go, but I'm disappointed that there's nothing off Avremel's latest album, Yankel Yankel. Wasn't that the whole point of releasing four albums of Lubavitcher niggunim, that we wouldn't have to listen to Hupp Cossak for the 89th time?

The first several times Lipa appeared at Hasc were by way of video, and people have undoubtedly been waiting for him to repeat those songs at Hasc in real life. Or at least I assume that's the case, because the next track is Gelt, Abi Meleibt, and Diet. Nicely done, nothing spectacular. I really wish he'd sing some of the slow tracks off his albums, because many those are really gorgeous. No one ever accused Diet of being gorgeous.

Ahh, my wish for something hartzig is fulfilled with Avremel singing R' Shlomo Carlebach's Gam Ki Elech. I always feel like there's something missing from a Carlebach song if the performer's voice is too nice, but Avremel manages to rise above that handicap to truly do this song justice.

What is with Dedi and Jim Hynes? Oh, sorry I think I forgot to mention that Dedi makes an appearance with "Kulanu". And it's time for the requisite, "When will Dedi finally put out a new CD?" His energy in concert is really great, and he really looks cute strutting up and down the stage. Obviously there's no strutting included with this cd, but it doesn't hurt to use your imagination once in a while.

There was much discussion following the release of A Poshite Yid regarding the two versions of Wake Up and which one was better. You can add a third version to that roiling controversy, and I think the only sensible solution is the old, "There's maalos and chisronos to everything."

As I mentioned above, there are certain things that work wonderfully at concerts but not so much on a cd. Another example of that would be Avremel and Lipa singing a medley of Fiddler on the Roof shtuff. Hearing them interact is quite cute, and they obviously enjoy being with each other on stage. But to hear their interactions too many times? It reminds me of those pizza stores or car services where they have the same cd playing for three years. Still, it's really cute.

Ahh, the next song is what a concert should be- a chance for Avremel, Lipa, and Dedi to sing Anovim (MBD), Vehi Sheomdah (Shwekey), and Kulanu Ahuvim (MBD). Gorgeous. Tremendous. Seriously.

Next up is a song I've never particularly liked, Lipa's Hallelu, done with R' Yitzchok Fuchs. I mean, it sounds as good as it'll ever sound, I just don't like it.

Moving right along, we've got Lipa singing his "Hentelach around the world," which actually sounds a lot better than the version on the Oorah cd. Again, and I seem to have beaten this particular horse to death already, but this song is great for concerts, not so much for daily listening.

Many years ago Avremel came out with a single called Change the World, or something like that. All right, so he didn't actually come out with it, but it somehow ended up on my iPod. I have no idea. Anyway, this live version is superior to that one, even if the lyrics are still a bit sappy. But what else can you expect from a Hasc anthem?

And just like that, it's time for the traditional Hasc finale. Fortunately it's not something pathetic like Dedi singing R' Shlomo's Neshoma, but rather a medley of popular melodies (I've always wanted to use that one) from the stars of the show, actually sung by the stars of the show (unlike the opening act). More of the same? Yeah, I guess so, but which heathen doesn't want more Avremel, Lipa, and Dedi singing each other's songs? Hmm? I didn't think so.

And that, as the saying goes, is it. Should you buy it? Obviously those who buy every Hasc, Lipa, Avremel, or Dedi production have purchased it already. But how about for those on the fence? Should they fork over the big bucks? Well, that depends. If you're looking for music you've never heard from these performers, this is a good cd for you. If you're looking for a transcendent musical experience that will change your life, or at least be wildly inspirational, perhaps you should have bought tickets to the concert. Overall though, it's a really nice cd. I certainly don't regret getting it.

Tachanun redux

So there's a bit of an ongoing discussion amongst the Lubavitchers at work regarding that old hobby horse of mine, tachanun. You see, our non-lubabitch brethren (of the hassidic ilk) very rarely, if ever, say the penitential prayers during the afternoon services. Why is this? I'm not quite sure. Perhaps they're worried about time. A noble trait, to be sure, but one that nonetheless rings hollow. If they wanted to say tachanun, they'd make time. Besides, from what I hear, they pretty much never say 'em anyway, regardless of context. But hey, that doesn't bother me. To each their own.

The question naturally arises when one davens with a minyan lead by these non-sayers: to say or not? Some are of the opinion that there's no need to say Tachanun, and in fact it's a bad thing. After all, there is the dictum of "Al tifrosh min hatzibbur," and when the minyan isn't saying something, why should we?

On the other hand, I am a Lubavitcher, and as such, I have the arrogance to assume that everything I do (mitzad Lubavitch) is the correct thing to do. In this case, when everyone is merrily skipping their way past tachanun and right onto aleinu, I begin to beat my chest and repent for my evil. When fellow Lubavitchers question my behavior, I ask them if they'd ever say tachanun on 19 Kislev. Obviously they wouldn't. So why is it any different here?

I could think of many examples where, as Lubavitchers, we thumb our noses at the world. Just because this time it would be convenient to go along with everyone, does that mean we should do it? I know that some people will think, "Well, it's not like you're eating chalav akum." But really, is it that different? They're both commandments from G-d.

What say you?

And tonight, we say l'chaim...

Rabbi Mordechai Friedman tells me the following every year, and I think it's quite pertinent:

The two days of Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah are very precious. Rabbi Shalom DovBer Schneersohn, fifth Rebbe of Chabad-Lubavitch, stated:

The 48 hours of Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah should be highly treasured. Every moment is an opportunity to draw bucket- and barrelfuls of material and spiritual treasures. And this is accomplished through dancing...

I also remember something along the lines of, "What can be accomplished through the 48 hours of Rosh Hashanah through penitenting can be accomplished in the 48 hours of Shemini Atzeres and Simchas Torah through dancing," but I can't find a source for it.

Prince of Bloomington

I know I've been remiss in my blogging over the last year or so, but hey, I've been busy. I also know that I may have offended some people at some point in the last year, and for that I'm sorry. Even if it wasn't intentional, it wasn't nice, and as everyone knows, TRS is all about being nice. I don't G-d forbid rue the performance of good deeds, i.e. I don't regret not blogging, because I was probably busy with other, more important things.

Meanwhile, in other news, I was recently emailed some interesting shtuff by a loyal reader, and I'd like to know all your's opinion on the matter.

Virtual Mincha - A Taste of the Future?

The Jerusalem Post recently published an article about a new phenomenon in the Jewish world: virtual mincha. Although many synagogues now webcast services for people who can't make it to schul in person, two new websites are creating Jewish communities that are 100% online.
PunkTorah.org was created by two young Jews in Atlanta who hosted their first online prayer service in June, while Cincinnati based OurJewishCommunity.org is led by Rabbi Laura Baum. Both websites aim to bring Jews together regardless of geographic location. "I can be your rabbi even if you're not in Cincinnati," says Rabbi Baum. "We are your rabbis and this is your community."
While online prayer groups meet the needs of those unable to get together in person, they also raise questions. As the JPost article notes, certain prayers require a minyan - a group of 10 Jewish adults - in order for the prayer to be recited. "But in an age of webcams and the Internet telephone service Skype," said Jewish Jumpstar founder Shawn Landres said, "spatial relations become altered and who's to say what 'together' means?"
---
Here's the question: At what point does Chabad.org start up a similar thing?

Reflections of a retired rover

On second thought, that title isn't particularly appropriate (even if it does get full marks in the alliterative department). First of all, once a Shliach always a Shliach, and second of all, it's way too pretentious. Just last week I assisted an Israeli customer (I work in retail) who needed help finding a Minyan in Manhattan. Another customer, this one a South African, happened to be celebrating a birthday, and I directed him to the Rebbe's Ohel. Is it the same as visiting Jews in Kansas, Missouri, and Connecticut? It's something along those lines.

Point is, there's always Jews out there waiting for the proverbial lamplighter to come by and spark a flame inside. Wherever we are, whatever we're doing, we can be the ones to light that wick and turn it into a raging fire. And that's really what Merkos Shlichus is all about. Reading the stories of the current crop of Roving Rabbis makes me realize how truly awesome it is to have been part of something so incredible. Like everyone connected with any enterprise, I never realized how much I was accomplishing through my simple slogging-through of the spiritual desert that is much of modern day America. Because really, that's what it's all about. Take a car, crank up the AC (if you have it), and drive out onto the prairie, following in the footsteps of all those pioneers on the Oregon Trail so many years ago. Once you're out on the road, open up the local Yellow Pages, Google a bit, and find some Jews. Reach out, put on Tefillin, put up some Mezuzahs, inspire, get inspired, drink some Coke and eat some potato chips, and generally make the world a better place. And if you have any cool stories, send them into this here blog.

Thing is, there are so many Jews out there waiting to be found, their souls simply crying out for spiritual solace, and all you've got to do is try. We don't expect any miracles, and there aren't even any quotas to be filled. There's no measurement for accomplishment; the only requirement is to rove far and wide, searching for the remnants of a people that has been beaten so many times it's forgotten how to raise its head in pride. Which is exactly what the Roving Rabbis are for. Lift those heads high, show them what you got. I know this has all sounded corny, but sometimes life is like that. Kansas is like that too. I mean, lots of corn.

(The above was written for Roving Rabbis.)