Feeling Sappy

The goal of this blog is stimulate warm conversation at your Shabbat table. Don't read it now - print and share!




Feeling Sappy

Tonight is Tubishvat, the festival of the trees.

In past years I've made some suggestions how to make it meaningful for the kids: here and here.

This year I want to try a different approach for your and your table.

The Talmud occasionally compares a person to a tree.

So first question for your table: How is a person like a tree?

Let's think for a moment.

We are exactly 4 months after Rosh Hashana, one third of the year has passed.

A tree is the ultimate symbol of wisdom as in the "tree of knowledge" in the Garden of Eden.

On Tubishvat, saith the Talmud, the sap starts to stir in trees.

Think about that - in the middle of the winter with snow on the ground, the potential for new fruit has already begun.   

So just when we think we can spiritually slumber - after all, we have 8 more months until Rosh Hashana! - it's time to let something stir inside of us.

Here is a list of "middot" - A to Z - that we ought to cultivate:

• A good name, Attentiveness,
• Bearing your own burden, Being pleasant,
• Cleanliness, Compassion, Courage,
• Decisiveness, Derech eretz (Common Decency),
• Equanimity,
• Fear/awe/yirah, Flexibility, Forgiveness, Friendship,
• Gemilut chasadim (Lovingkindness), Generosity of heart, Goodwill, Gratitude,
• Holiness, Humility,
• Joy
• Kavod
• Leadership, Love,
• Moderation,
• Not embarrassing,
• Order,
• Patience, Peace, Privacy/modesty, Purity,
• Recognizing the good, Respect, Responsibility,
• Separation, Sharing the burden, Silence, Simplicity, Soft-heartedness, Strength,
• Taking Care of the Body, Trust, Truth, Tzedakah,
• Watchfulness, Welcoming guests, Willingness,
• Zeal

Source: madrega.com

What is the key to the sap inside a person?

Maybe the answer came in an email I received this week from a rabbi I know:

"One of my promising students, who has a large crystal collection, is really keen to find out the mystical aspect of crystals."

Most people asking such questions believe in the healing power of crystals. Sorry to say, I'm afraid this isn't going to be a fruitful search.

But Maimonides says that studying nature is the first step towards developing the most fundamental of all middot: appreciation.

Crystals are awesome. So are cells. And orchids.

So I suggested to the rabbi that he show his student two mentions of crystals in the Torah.

1. The book of Job:

"But where shall wisdom be found? And where is the place of understanding? Man does not know its price; nor is it found in the land of the living. The depth says, It is not in me; and the sea says, It is not with me.  It cannot be acquired for gold, nor shall silver be weighed for its price. It cannot be valued with the gold of Ophir, with the precious onyx, or the sapphire. Gold and glass cannot equal it; nor can it be exchanged for jewels of fine gold. No mention shall be made of coral, or of crystal; for the price of wisdom is above rubies." (28:12-18)

2. The Talmud:

"R. Ashi made a marriage feast for his son. He saw that the Rabbis were growing [overly] merry, so he brought a cup of white crystal and broke it before them and they became serious." (Brachot 31a)

Second Question for your table: What's the moral of the story?

Evidently we are to understand crystal as something very, very precious. But wisdom is even more precious, as are proper middot.


Shabbat Shalom 


PS - In case you missed you missed it, wo weeks ago during the Jerusalem snowstorm, I sent you some Jewish ideas about snow.

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Every Cloud Has One

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

Flew across the country this week. Everywhere I go, I hear the same thing: "What's with this warm weather in January?"

Look at this weather map - almost no clouds on the lower-48.

I know what you're thinking, the fair weather ain't going to last forever.

Chances are, at some point, most of us are going to experience a flight delay, an extremely inconvenient traffic jam, and so on.

Today's story, which I told five years ago in this space, is to help you get through those frustrating times.

The Cast: Rabbi Mordechai Gifter, the late great Dean of the Telz Yeshiva in Cleveland, and 8 students.
The Setting: A few years ago during a snowy winter.

One of Rabbi Gifter’s students was getting married in New York and had sent nine tickets to bring his rabbi and friends to his wedding. They were leaving on an early morning flight to attend an evening ceremony. It was a very happy time for all of them.

Halfway to New York, the pilot came on the loudspeaker.

Pilots do not ordinarily interrupt you halfway to New York with good news.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the Captain. The storm in New York has become an unexpected blizzard and all airports in the region are closed. No flights are taking off or landing. We are being diverted to Washington National Airport. I am sorry for the inconvenience.”

There was obviously nothing that Rabbi Gifter and his students could do. They were going to miss the wedding. This was not a pleasing outcome, but there was nothing they could do. They were not going to share this celebration with their friend.

Facing an indefinitely long wait in the Washington airport, Rabbi Gifter told his students, “Let’s go find a quite place to say Mincha (the afternoon service).” Because of the storm, the airport was jammed full of stranded travelers. They could find neither nook nor cranny conducive to the intense meditation that yeshiva students prefer.

Finally, one of the students stopped an airport custodian. His name tag said “Joe”.

“Is there a room here we could use to pray?”

Joe dropped his mop and gaped at them like they were from Mars. He evidently didn't speak English very well, so the student tried to communicate with a combination of monosyllabic words and sign language: “ROOM – FOR PRAY - QUIET – WHERE? QUIET ROOM?” he asked, gesturing.

Joe replied slowly and quietly, almost a whisper, “I have a work room you can use. Follow me.”

Pleased, they followed Joe into a room that felt a little bit like squeezing into a closet, but it was quiet. They were grateful, and they began their service.

The entire time they conducted their service, Joe stood at the door and watched. When they had finished and were moving to leave, he asked, “Why don’t you say Kaddish?”

Needless to say, they were not expecting that question from Joe the custodian.

Nonplussed but without missing a beat, Rabbi Gifter responded, “We need ten men to say Kaddish, and you see that we’re short one.”

Very deliberately, Joe said, “I am a Jew. Let me complete your minyan.” Then without waiting for their response, he became plaintive: “Please,” he begged, “Let me say the Kaddish.”

Needless to say, Rabbi Gifter and his students agreed.

Joe put down his mop, moved to the center of the room, and took a deep breath. “Yisgadal v’yiskadash...” His voice trailed off, for he did not know the Aramaic by heart. So Rabbi Gifter coached him through every word and he and the students responded at all the appropriate times.

At the end of Kaddish, Joe cried.

He dried his eyes, then told his story.

“As you can see, I am not a completely ignorant Jew. I was brought up practicing. But as a young man I rebelled against my parents, especially my father, and stopped being observant. This caused an even bigger fight with my father and we didn’t speak for nine years until he died. I didn’t even go to his funeral last week.

“But last night I dreamed about my father. In my dream he spoke to me and said, ‘Yosaif, I know you’re angry at me! You didn’t even come to my funeral! But you must say Kaddish for me! You’re my only son!’

“In my dream I said back to him, ‘But how can I do that, I don’t know the words, and anyway you need a minyan!’

“He said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get you a minyan. Tomorrow!’ And then I woke up. And then the next day, that’s today, the nine of you show up, Heaven sent!”

Yosaif cried again.

Rabbi Gifter then told him their side of the story, about the wedding and the storm. “You see,” he said to the students as much as to Joe, “that literally nothing happens by chance. Not the wedding, not the nine invitations, not the snowstorm. Someone is looking out for you!”

Joe didn’t take much persuading to find a local minyan and continue saying Kaddish for his father for the duration of the eleven months, and on the annual Yarzeit thereafter.

For your table – Have you ever felt that events in your life were being orchestrated or that you were being tested?

Shabbat Shalom.

PS – if you would like to arrange Kaddish for a parent or other loved one, almost any yeshiva that has a daily minyan will make sure that it is said on your behalf in exchange for a small donation.


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