Does God Care?

The purpose of this blog is to help the family talk about the most important issues of the day. Please print and share.



This week, two Superbowl questions for your table.

The first question is one that I know is already on your mind:

Does God care who wins (or won) the Superbowl?

(The answer of course, is yes, which is why He's so happy this week.)

To make it a serious question for serious conversation, here are another couple factors to add to the equation.

1. For the sake of discussion, let's define "God" as "infinite, unlimited being".
2. "Care" is a very human term. But maybe what people mean by that question is "involved".

Looking forward to your family's answers.

This week's second question is no less pressing.

There was a parade in Baltimore and not in San Francisco - are you comfortable with that?

That question leads to a story, followed by the third question.

Here's the story, which has been going around the Jewish world for a few years.

It’s about a boy named Shaya.

Shaya was “special". He was slower than the other boys. His brain worked slower and his body worked slower.

Shaya attended a Jewish boys’ school and he played with his classmates on a Jewish baseball league. Their team was called the Allstars.

Shaya wasn’t very good. He couldn’t hit the ball, he couldn’t catch the ball, he always forgot which way to run.

But his classmates were nice to him, always gave him a high-five and he loved being part of the team, wearing the uniform and getting his turn at bat just like the other boys.

At the end of the sixth-grade season, the Allstars had made it into the championship game against the Whitesox. At the bottom of the ninth, with two outs, the Allstars were down by two points, there was one man on base and guess what....Shaya was up.

If I told you that they put someone else up in his place that would be untrue. His team put Shaya up in the normal batting order (rules are rules after all...). They all realized that they were not going to win the game, but they encouraged Shaya anyway, why shouldn’t he have fun? “Go gettem, Shaya!” Who knows, maybe there would be a miracle?

When the Whitesox pitcher saw who was up to bat, he smiled and walked halfway to home plate. Then he pitched the slowest underhand pitch he could. Shaya swung and missed.

“That’s OK, Shaya,” his teammates shouted. “Keep your eye on that ball!”

The pitcher took a few steps closer and pitched again, as gingerly as he could launch that ball. Shaya swung and missed.

Then one of Shaya’s teammates stepped up behind him and helped him hold the bat. The Whitesox pitcher tossed a third lazy ball, right over the strike zone. With help, Shaya made contact on the ball and it went in a lazy arch right towards the pitcher.

This is when the excitement started. The Whitesox pitcher dodged the ball and let it land on the ground. Seeing that it was a fair ball, Shaya’s teammates yelled, “Run, Shaya, run!!” Shaya started to run the wrong way and his batting-buddy steered him towards first base.

Meanwhile, the Whitesox pitcher picked up the ball and through it towards first base. But he threw it in such a high arc that it went way over the head of the firstbaseman and landed near the edge of the field. Shaya was still running, and his teammates were all yelling, “Run Shaya, run!!” When Shaya got to first, he hesitated but his coach pointed him towards second. Meanwhile, the firstbaseman had retrieved the ball and was throwing it towards second. But he, too, overthrew his teammate by a mile, allowing Shaya to make it to second. Already Shaya’s two teammates who had been on base made it home and the score was tied. By now, everyone, not only the Allstars but even the Whitesox, they were going crazy, yelling “Run, Shaya, run!” Shaya was running for his life!

The same thing happened at third – the outfielder who picked up the ball threw it over the head of the thirdbaseman and Shaya rounded third! He was on his way home and all of the parents in the stands were on their feet, everyone was yelling, “Run, Shaya, run!!”

When Shaya made it home, he was swarmed by both teams, the Allstars and the Whitesox, who lifted him up on their shoulders and chanted, “Shaya, Shaya, Shaya!”

Question for your table - How does the achievement of those boys compare to the achivement of the Ravens?

Those boys reached "sheleimut" that day. Same root as shalom. Maybe you can define it.

But the real home-run question is, can this value be taught? Or does it just happen?


Shabbat Shalom 


PS - To friends in the Bay Area, hoping to see you Monday night.


As always, if you enjoyed this blog, please "like" it, "tweet" it, or simply send the link to others who may enjoy it.

Master of the Name

The purpose of this blog is to provide a conversation-starter for your Friday night dinner table. Please print and share.

Last week's Table Talk generated a huge amount of positive feedback. If you missed it, it is archived here.

This week's story is for anyone who is feeling down.

Or knows someone feeling down.

Or might feel down one day and find it helpful to have a story like this on file to pull out and re-read at the time.

The protagonist is of the most famous rabbis of all time.

I don't know if it's true or not.

But they don't tell stories like this about you and me.

He's known as the Baal Shem Tov.

If you want to remind yourself who he was and what he did, click here.

Here's the story.....

For those who "do" Shabbat, even a little bit, Saturday night can be a mystical time.

The more you do Shabbat, the more mystical Saturday night can become.

Saturday night is when a person can savor the Shabbat that one just experienced. Bask in the glow. The greater the experience, the greater the glow.

Something like enjoying a drink or cup of coffee or tea after an excellent meal.

The long Saturday nights in winter, all the more so.

One such Saturday night, while all were basking in that glow, the Baal Shem Tov told his driver to prepare the wagon and they set out with several of his students.

When they reached the open road outside of town, he told the driver, "Get the horses into a gallup and then let go of the reins."

This driver knew better than question or doubt anything that the great tzaddik said.

The horses were allowed to run freely, to follow their instinct.......
They ran and ran, on-road, off-road, on paths seldom traveled.

Finally, after an hour or so, they slowed and stopped.

They had come to a stop before a small cottage on the outskirts of a small town in the forest.

The residents must have heard the noise outside because almost instantly a man came rushing out, a Jewish man.

"My friends," he called to them, hurrying to the road. "My friends, my friends, welcome! Please, come inside for a warm drink, for a bit of food. We seldom see travelers here, please do me the honor of welcoming guests into our home!"

The Baal Shem Tov, his students and driver all followed the man inside.

When the man heard that they were from Medzibozh, his face lit up even more. "Do you know the Baal Shem Tov?"

Before anyone else could answer, the rabbi said, "If you please, we are indeed hungry and thirsty, may we speak later?"

The man served them a hot meal. They sang songs together.

When the hour got late, he invited them to stay the night and they accepted.

In fact, they stayed not one night, not two nights, but five nights with this Jewish family, until they had consumed all of their food.

When they departed on the sixth morning, the many thanked them profusely and asked, "If you see the Baal Shem Tov, would you please ask him for a bracha for me, that I should raise my children to be good Jews?"

Finally, the rabbi told him. "I am the rabbi you are asking about. God sent me to you for a reason, and soon you will know why."

They departed before their stunned host could gather his thoughts and reply.

As he re-entered his house, still in a daze from what had just happened, he encountered his wife.

She was not happy.

To say the least.

"You fed those strangers every moursel of food in our house! We have nothing left! And the children are hungry! They're crying! What are you going to do?!!"

In despair, the man closed his eyes, and uttered a simple prayer.

"Master of the universe, what did these children do to deserve to suffer? Please send us help!"

He continued for a few minutes, thinking about his wife and children, what they needed and asking for help.

While lost in this meditation, there was a knock on the door.

It was a non-Jewish neighbor named Ivan.

Ivan often came by for a visit and a shot of vodka.

This time, Ivan had other business.

"My friend, I've known you a long time, and you know that I live with my daughter and son-in-law, and that they make me miserable. I can't stand it anymore. Let me come stay with you."

Before the Jewish man could tell Ivan he had no food in the house, Ivan continued.

"I won't bother you. In fact, it will be very good for you. You see, long ago I made a fortune and I buried it in the forest in a secret location. I don't want my daughter and son-in-law to get it. I will give it to you. All of it. Just help me get out of the misery."

Seeing that the man was incredulous, he added, "Come, come with me, we'll get some of the treasure right now."

Into the forest they went, shovel in hand, and sure enough, Ivan dug up a sack full of gold coins.

So Ivan gave the man the treasure in exchange for his hospitality.

Not only did the man's family have enough to eat, they became great givers of tzedaka.

A few years later, the man traveled to Medzibozh to visit the Baal Shem Tov.
When the Baal Shem Tov saw him, he spent an unusual amount of private time with him.

Seeing this, his students asked, "Why did Rebbe spend so much time with this particular man?"

"You don't remember him. He is the Jew we visited Saturday night a few years ago. The Holy One brought us to him. There was a decree in Heaven that he should be blessed with great weath. The problem was that this simple Jew was so satisfied with what he had, that he never asked for anything more. There was a chance that the blessing would never reach him. We were sent to him to consume all of his food so that he would ask for help."

Question for your table: What is the moral of this story? Can you think of two or three?

Shabbat Shalom

PS - Thank you to all those who responded to last week's PS.... As I wrote then, if you're read this far, chances are you enjoyed this message. Tomorrow night at 11:59 pm is your last chance to make tax-deductible contributions for 2011. How many appeals have you received this year? But you read this email, so you got something out of it. Maybe you have enjoyed this Table Talk throughout the year. Please support the organization that makes this and many ambitious educational programs possible. Here's the link: http://jsli.org/donate/ No contribution is too small or too large.

PPS - Robert Zimmerman:

PPS - Another selection from the Amazing Jewish Fact-a-Day Calendar

++++++ Sunday’s Amazing Jewish Fact ++++++
6 Tevet 5772
1 January 2012

At the age of 40, Akiva (ca. 60 CE) was an illiterate shepherd.

At his wife's insistence, he went to learn, but was embarrassed to be sitting in school with kindergarteners. Yet he couldn't go home, because his wife told him not to return until he was a scholar.

Feeling sorry for himself. Akiva sat down by a stream and stared at the water.

As he watched the dripping water slowly wearing away a rock, he had a flash of inspiration:

"If water, which is so soft, can wear away a hard rock, surely a little Torah can get into my hardened heart!"

So inspired, he returned to kindergarten.

By the age of 64 he had become Rabbi Akiva, the greatest scholar in Israel, with 24,000 students.

Talmud Nedarim 50a, Ketubot 62b-63a

Wikipedia on Rabbi Akiva
A book about Rabbi Akiva
An amazing class by R. Akiva Tatz on the meaning of life 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
From the Amazing Jewish Fact-a-Day Calendar:

http://tinyurl.com/amazingcalendarlink (iphone/ipad version)
http://tinyurl.com/amazingandroidcalendar (android version)

Late For the Plane

If you have been reading this blog for less than five years, you missed one of the most popular posts ever, "Late for the Train".

This week, it was like déjà vu all over again, with a twist.

I'm in sunny San Francisco. Well, it had been sunny, but the moment I'm trying to leave it starts to rain. Remember what Mark Twain allegedly said (but didn't really), "The coldest winter I ever had was a summer in San Francisco"?

Not that bad really, it isn't cold, just raining.

But what's to worry? I have two hours before my flight, and what does it take to get to the Oakland airport, 30 maybe 45 minutes? Not checking bags, already checked in, yada yada yada.

My hostess puts me in the cab with breakfast, I have my cell phone, looking forward to an easy day of travel.

San Francisco is picturesque in the rain. It's a treat to be a passenger for a change.

Soon my attention gets diverted from the scenery to my breakfast and my phone. After awhile I look up and discover to my great chagrin that we are in bumper-to-bumper stand-still traffic on the 880 highway.

This is not good.

My watch says that we still have 75 minutes before the flight.

"What's going on?" I ask the driver.

"Backup."

Thanks.

The Bay Area has a very important service, you dial 511 and can check traffic conditions, updated every 10 minutes or so.

I remember when they launched the service, the voice recognition wasn't so sharp, and I had to shout a lot into the phone. Now it's a lot smoother, almost feels natural.

The report: an accident on the 880, just before the High Street exit.

Bummer.

I report the news to the driver. "How many exits is that ahead of us?"

"Just two more exits."

"Maybe we should get off now and go through the streets."

"Streets no move faster than this."

Well, he's the professional driver. What do I know? It is moving, but about 5 miles an hour.

Question for your table: What would be a "spiritual" reaction at this point?

So here's what happens.

The clock keeps ticking relentlessly forward, second by second.

1 hour before the flight.

50 minutes before the flight.

40 minutes until the flight.

OK, this is not looking great for my travel plans.

Question #2 for your table - Does your response to question #1 change at this point?

Then it dawns on me - I forgot to say "Tefilat Ha-derech"!

Tefilat (or Tefilas) Ha-derech is sometimes translated as "The Wayfarer's Prayer" or "The Traveler's Prayer." It is customary to say towards the beginning of a journey, just after getting outside of town. As soon as you cross the Bay Bridge, you're now "out of town" - and that's just about where the backup started!

Fortunately, there are lot's of copies of THD floating around. Many organizations print it up on wallet-sized cards. There have been PDA and smart-phone versions ever since the advent of PDAs and smart-phones.

I rummage through the "travel stuff" pocket of my bag, and sure enough, there among the ear plugs, metro cards, stain remover (why doesn't that cap stay on?), band-aids etc., I find a THD card.

It doesn't take long to say, about 40 seconds.

When I finish, I look up. That exact moment, the traffic suddenly starts to move.... 15 MPH...30 MPH...45..... and finally to highway speed!

"Did we pass the accident?"

"No, it just started to move!"

We arrive at the airport 18 minutes before the flight.

I could make this all dramatic and tell you every agonizing detail of the security and the dash, but picture this - I arrive at the gate clutching my carry-on in one hand and my belt and shoes in the other only to find they haven't started boarding yet. Seems there was some unexplained delay, even though the boards all read "on time".

Question 3 to ask at your table - What do you think - "just a coincidence"??


Wishing you safe and on-time journeys of your own and a

Shabbat Shalom.


PS - Amazon carries a laminated THD here.

PPS - with the Middle East so dominant in the news, you may enjoy this site.

PPPS - Live in American and looking for a meaningful Memorial Day Activity?