Trust and Betrayal

I had the strongest feeling of deja vu last night. Lying in bed, warm from the heat, but with a slight breeze from the ceiling fan. I'm in summer camp, maybe nineteen or twenty years old, collapsed in bed after a late night basketball session. The room is inhabited by the odor of overripe boyhood. The light is on. There is a conversation going on among somewhere, and I drift between wakefulness and sleep.

I'm bone tired, but a good kind of tired. I had known what I wanted from the day, and I'd worked hard at getting it. I'd sleep and be ready to do it again; supervise and entertain, mediate fights and perform antics, be a role model for children, who live their lives with eyes raised upward like baby birds, looking for elders to emulate.

I was sure of lots of things in this manner, and they all went hand-in-glove. Torah is the most important thing I can aquire. Learn and be saved. Sure, I failed most of the time, but I lived with the belief always that around the corner I'd find Shas at the end of the rainbow.

I had expectations. Unlike most people, who are acknowledged to be ordinary by friends and family, I was the guy about whom people said, If he'd just get his act together, string a few sedorim, a few weeks, a few months, together, he could be a tzaddik, a talmid chacham. Each day or two, sometimes even as long as two weeks that I managed to sincerely fake, reinforced my resolve and proved the truthfulness of my mission. I was as sure as the sun in the sky that this was my destiny, and I tried, desperately, as I realized later, to achieve it.

But I never tried hard enough. I never wanted it enough, the way I was supposed to.

After failing at something long enough, one invariably realizes that it's not so important after all.

In the last three days, completely coincidentally, three people asked me if I have a seder every day. I don't, and I don't know how to explain why. What I mean is, I do know how to explain why, but I don't want to be faced with the consequences.

Now I have a new set of priorities. This is about me, I don't judge other people. I have what I know, I have what I need.

Do I believe in God? That question is so 90's. I believe in myself, in people. I believe in what I have always had, and in what I have only recently gotten, and I want desperately to protect it. And I try not to remember what I believed with such sincerity - could it possibly have been equal sincerity? - nine years ago.

Because once you've betrayed yourself once, you can never trust yourself again.

Fantastic Four

Buying the Arba Minim

The time has come. You've put it off as long as possible, because you hope the price will go down, but also because, let's face it, you have no idea what to buy and how much it's worth. And since Sukkos is a time of thenks, this year you will be able to thank Hashem that Bitter was able to give you the scoop, allowing you to saunter into your local esrog dealer, banter like a pro, look condescendingly at other people's choices , and waltz out with a set that is the envy of the entire town.

Here's the trick: Just do it! Saunter, banter, condescend and waltz with confidence, and no one will ever know that you know nothing about the Arba Minim. Nobody has any clue, except the dealer, and on rare occasions, the rabbi, so it's all about the confidence you project.

In order to banter though, you will need to remember the word "bletel" for esrogim, "knepel" for lulavim, and "meshulash" for hadassim. You don't need to know what they mean.

But what about me? you're thinking. What about getting a good set at a good price that will actually accomplish what I set out to do, namely, fulfill the mitzva of Arba Minim?

Don't fret. I'll tell you all you need to know.

First of all, the length of your lulav must be at least 4 tefachim, or about 16 inches. There is no truth at all to the rumors about men with big lulavim, so find a size you feel comfortable with.

There is no such thing as a three hundred dollar esrog. What there are, are three hundred dollar customers. If you spend more than about $150, you're bound to end up with a lemon. If an esrog looks nice to you, and you cannot find any blemishes on it at all, even with the aid of the electron microscope that you were luckily able to borrow and bring along to the dealer, it may be worth purchasing. If you think there may be a blemish, bring it to a rov to check if it's red or larger than a penny.
Some brands to look for when buying an esrog: Chazon Ish, Kivelevitch, Badatz. Some brands to avoid: Murkav (especially Vadai or Zicher Murkav), and Big Jim's House of Shrimp and Esrogim.

Haddassim are supposed to have sets of three leaves, covering as much stem as possible. Thinking about the leaves on your haddassim too much is a common form of OCD in the charedi community.

Based on common practice, Aravos are kosher in any state of decay, as long as you think that they may once have been a species of plant.

Next year, there will be a bit of a twist in the Arba Minim field, because it is shemitta, the year of resting the land in Israel. In fact, there is a campaign on wherein the charedi community, through outreach and aid, encourages country Jews to honor the torah laws of shemitta, and not work, just like their city cousins.

This affects the esrog market, since the torah law also prohibits any commercial activity with the fruit of shemitta. That means two things:
1. In Israel, you'll be able to pick any esrog, free.
2. Anywhere else, you will not be able to buy an esrog.
This law is dealt with in a variety of ways. There are a few heterim, such as the "heter mechira" ('selling' the land for the year) which you better not mention to charedim. Other heterim including buying the lulav and having the esrog thrown in, trading the esrog for a player to be named later, and the fact that Big Jim is not Jewish and is allowed to buy and sell esrogim. (although he still needs a hechsher for the internet if he wants to send his kids to Tiferes Daniel.)

The last thing that's worth mentioning, though it doesn't deserve a post of its own, is that you needn't use a machzor on Sukkos. One of the best kept secrets in the machzor-publishing world is that there should really only be two, for Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, but five "makes a much nicer set, and provides many dedication opportunities" according to an anonymous industry insider. Using a machzor on Sukkos marks you immediately as an out of towner at least, and likely the guy who used to bring catching gear to his softball games in fifth grade, and then strike out five times.

Sukkos Primer

It's Here!

Well, that joyous time of year is finally upon us! After bowing on our faces countless times, starving through an entire day of prayer, and fighting through hordes of people saying Kiddush Levana with lots of kavana, it's time for the happiest of Jewish holidays, Sukkos!
There are a few great mitzvos that make Sukkos the one of a kind holiday that it is. Just to introduce them, I've prepared this handy guide for beginners, (ameratzim) that will, without judging or condescending, spoon feed you the basics.
The first mitzva that comes to mind on Sukkos, is of course, the Sukka. It's a small, leaky, hut, or "tabernacle" according to Soncino, that we build outside our houses, to ensure that the season will be rainy. "If you can't convince G-d, appeal to his sense of irony", is the logic behind many mitzvos and segulos.
Building the Sukka
There are many practical tips that will help you build your sukka and keep it standing for the entire holiday, as well as many interesting family customs that have sprung up over the years as many generations have endeavored to do this mitzva with their own unique flavor.
I recommend finding a bit of flat elevated ground, as close to your kitchen as possible. If you have a porch without a covering, that can be a great place to build it. Otherwise, a patio or a bit of flat grass will do just fine.
In my own family, we have the unique custom to begin building our steel-pipe-framed canvas sukka on our patio during Aseres Yemei Teshuva. We take stock of the various pieces, note what we need, and begin construction. Then, the day after Yom Kippur, we give up, and head to my in-laws for the holiday.
There are many different materials that can work for the walls of your sukka. According to the mishna, you can use anything at all, though later elucidation seems to preclude some materials, such as pork and canvas. Many people have used wood for generations, and it's still the most popular material.
Lately however, modern innovation has led to the development of pop-up sukkas, as well as easy to construct sukkas of other varieties.
Themes are making an entry now as well, with the Kotel-themed sukka, canvas printed with the iconic stones of the Wailing Wall, (For a small charge, you can hire an arab woman to collect tzedaka at the door); The Vegas themed sukka, with prints of the strip skyline and the motto of the Chabad Simchas Beis Hashoeva (What happens on Sukkos stays on Sukkos); and the Elvis themed Sukka, which plays the classic "Blue Suede Esrog Box" when you open the shlock.
Non-Jewish Reaction
Those of you who live in predominantly non-Jewish neighborhoods will understand how hard it can be to explain to your neighbors what you are doing as you build. One great idea is to simply explain that G-d is bringing a great flood on the world because of its many sins, and they had better repent, or face the risk of drowning. (Ha ha, just a little charedi humor)
Many kiruv professionals suggest that you simply explain to them in English what it is you are doing. I have tried this many times, and often, after I explain that I am building a Tabernacle, the gentile will pull out a knife and demand to be circumcised immediately.
The S'chach
For the roof of your sukka, you need to use something that grows from the ground, so any sort of tree, shoot or bush will be fine. Many jews have the custom of enhancing the beauty of their sukka by using the neighbors' corkscrew shaped shrubbery, though we suggest you ask their permission first, unless they are out of town.
Decorations
It is customary to decorate the Sukka in a beautiful manner. Traditionally this requires at the very least: A sign on the door that says "Welcome", hanging by one corner; Pictures of anonymous old men with long beards; and pictures of anonymous young men with long beards examining the four species. Which is a perfect segue to:

The Four Species: Coming Next!

Dumb Jews

I know that calling a post "Dumb Jews" is not the nicest thing to do, as any Dumb Jew will tell you, "During Aseres Yemei Teshuva".
I was meaning to just write a review of the new Michoel Pruzansky album, which I am listening to on Itunes (a program clearly created by dumb goyim). But in addition to the few nice things I have to say about it, there are a number of negatives, which apply to many of us, not just Michoel Pruzansky. So I'm going to point out the positives, and then hit us all with the complaining.
1. His voice tells us that thankfully, the weenie era of jewish music is over. He has a man's voice and is not afraid to use it.
2. The music is good. It's a little more innovative than the average jewish album has been lately. It gets a little funkier than let's say, Yisroel Williger, which is a development we've all been waiting for.

Now I'll complain. Why, oh why, does it seem that the only way to succeed in our world (the world of me and you and a few people we know) is to completely dumb down everything to the point where it's appropriate for 3rd graders?
Here are the lyrics to his first song.
"Im ani oseh mitzva ani koneh olam habah."
Roughly translated, "Me do good deed. Me get reward!"
Then comes "Shteig" which begins with a possuk in tehillim about torah, then has the following lyrics, (translated) "Growing in torah more and more, learning torah more and more.
More caveman eligible simplicity. Is there anyone out there who can express an emotion more subtle than GOOOD! (grunt) or BBBAADDDD! (whine)?
One gets the feeling that if one did have such a novel thought it would immediately be banned. Like Avraham Frieds "Father Don't Cry", which seemd to typify the "BAAAAAD (whine) genre, except that it said something like "why, oh why?" which is kefira.
Anyway, I've plagiarized and adapted this little ditty to give a little spice to the Jewish music world. Feel free to record it and put it on your next jewish album to be distributed at better jewish music rentals and leases everywhere.
The musical arrangements for this are freely available on websites everywhere. I just ask that you give credit to whomever it was that composed it. (The vocals are arranged to be sung by a person and a diety)
(person)
It's hard to believe That I couldn't see
You were always there Beside me
Thought I was alone With no one to hold But you were always Right beside me
[Together:]
This feeling's like no other
I want you to know
(person)
I've never prayed to someone
That knows me like you do
The way you do
I've never worshipped someone
As good for me as you
No one like you

So lonely before I finally found
What I've been looking for
[Hashem]
So good to be seen So good to be heard
[Together:]
Don't have to say a word
[person]
For so long i was lost So good to be found
[Together:]
I'm lovin' havin' you around
[Hashem]
This feeling's like no other
[Together:]
I want you to know
[hashem]
I've never had someone
That knows me like you do The way you do
I've never had someone who worships me like you
No one like you
So lonely before I finally found
What I've been looking for
[Together:]
Do-do-do-do, do-do-do-do-do-do Whoa oh, oh, oh Do-do-do-do, do-do-do-do-do-do Whoa oh, oh, oh

I'd also like to take the time to give a shout out to fake israeli accents, and songs that make no sense until you realize that they allude to the nickname of the singer. (L'gabay, Pruzbul, and Lipa's new one, "Rachamana Lipa Ba'ee")

My interview with Moshiach part II

The story thus far: Bitter gives a ride to a hitchhiker, who turns out to be Moshiach. Bitter asks him what we could do to help him come faster.

Moshiach sat for a few minutes, picking at his goatee, deep in thought.

"You know," he said, "you probably think that I know a lot about the answer to that question. I used to think about it all the time, and over the years, I've had a lot of great ideas, reasons for the Jews staying in exile, accomplishments that God wanted to see before the great redemption." He smiled, perhaps remembering some of the great deeds, and continued animatedly.

"But time after time, just when I thought I'd be asked to come, at the apex of a great era, the conclusion of some great suffering, I'd have my bags packed, and be ready to go,m and you know what would happen?"

"What?" I wondered, hanging on to his every word.

"Nothing." he said. "N-o-thing! So I don't know. The point is, I don't think about it much anymore. When the time comes, the time comes." He slumped back in the seat, spent.
I was deflated. Suddenly he perked up.

"Hey!" he said. "Maybe you have some ideas!"
"M-m-me?" I stammered.

"Yeah, you!" he enthused. "You know," he continued reflectively, "I don't get out much. Yeah I can be misboidaid as long as I want, and I keep up with the news, just to know which rulers I might have to hondle with. But I kema'at never just hang around poshitteh yidden.

"Tell me," he continued, "do you go to shul? You have a big chevra?"

"I-I guess.."

"So you tell me!" He was gaining steam here, his Chai necklace bouncing as he gesticulated. For the first time I noticed a hint of an Israeli accent. "What is it? What can they do to help me come? To merit the ge'ulah?"

I hadn't thought about it, and I was a little uncomfortable being put on the spot by Moshiach himself.

"I'm sorry!" he said, as though reading my thoughts, "Maybe I shouldn't have put so much pressure on you! It's okay if you don't know! Hey, I've been thinking about it for years and I don't know! It's okay, Tzaddik'l!" He pulled a hip flask out of his frock and unscrewed the cap.
"Well..." I said, "I guess now that you mention it...."

He tried to hide it, but his eyes lit up. He took a swig from the bottle.

"Nu?"

"I don't know...Some people say that the music at weddings is too loud." The words felt stupider as they left my mouth.

"Soooo..." he prompted.

"I don't know. I guess they say that it's a bizayon for the older generation-" I noticed him fiddling with his ring "- that it's disrespectful to the older generation, and it's not sensitive, and could cause hearing loss..." He looked skeptical, but thought about it for a minute.

"Honor your parents, show respect to your elders, watch verily your health...I guess it's important. But what if the chosson likes loud music? Or the kalla? There would be a reason to play it loud." He paused. "Maybe it's wrong, but It's certainly a nuanced question.

"Who complains about this?" he asked.

"I don't know, I guess... In the paper... I've seen...here and there, about it."

"Jewish papers?"

"Yeah, I guess. They have pages of letters from readers, and I've seen some readers complain about the music."

"Maybe." he said dubiously. He gazed at the tzitzis twisted between his fingers, and ran his finger along the blue thread. He looked up.

"Anything else?"

Exclusive interview with Moshiach!

I saw him standing on the corner, near where the Brooklyn bus unloads. He was wearing a long jacket and beaver hat, fiddling with his bushy beard, and he appeared deep in thought. In stark contrast to the other travellers milling about, he didn't seem to be in a rush to get somewhere.
People met and greeted, collected their luggage and headed off, but he just stood there.
I had to pass him to get to my car, and as I did, I asked the man, "Can I give you a ride somewhere?"
"Where are you going?" he asked. His diction was perfectly american, which caught me by surprise, I guess.
"What?" I asked, though I had heard him.
"Voo fuert ah Yeed?" He asked again, in a thick yerushalmi yiddish.
I told him the neighborhood.
"Is there a Beis Medrash there? A place where there will be people learning now?"
There was, I assured him after checking my watch. I assumed he was a meshulach, and was looking for a place where the picking would be good. But as he climbed into the car, I noticed that his attache case looked to be very shiny, yet supple leather, and his suit was tailored of fine natural fabric.
The ride was not a short one, so I made some small talk while I watched in the mirror as he settled himself.
"Where are you from?" I asked.
"Rome." He answered. "Actually, my residence is not there, per se, however, of late I've been there much of the time. My present sojourn began there, so in that sense it would be an accurate answer, regardless.
"Rome?" I asked. "What is it that you do in Rome?"
"Well," he replied, adjusting the bobby pins in his yarmulka, "mostly, I just wait. The work I'm supposed to do is liberate the Jewish people and rebuild the Temple, but I'm waiting for final word from my Upstairs."
"You mean.. You're telling me..You are moshiach?!"
"Most people call me that," he said. "Although Eliyahu says that G-d refers to me as Menachem. And on Tisha B'av, they call me the birthday boy."
I was stunned speechless. Imagine that! Being in a car together with the redeemer of the Jews! It was an incredible honor, but I was too nervous to say anything! We sat in silence for what seemed like days.
Finally, I decided that this was too good an opportunity to pass up. I looked in the rearview mirror, trying to get a good look at the one who would be the greatest king Israel had ever known. He was opening an Artscroll Tehillim.
"M-M-MOshiach Tzidkeinu..." I quavered, "What will help us to bring you bimheira biyameinu amain?"
He closed the tehillim and sat thoughtfully for a few minutes.

Nature Vs. Nurture

Nature V. Nurture
Though the headline says Nature V. Nurture, I want to make it clear that this is not a head on competition, like Ali V. Frasier, or even Roe V. Wade. Words cannot engage each other physically, like people can. If they could though, I’d say that Nurture would not stand a chance. Nurture is quite possibly the wussiest, wimpiest, girliest word there is. Nurture, in a WCW Smackdown, would get its butt handed to it by Exfoliate.
Although to be honest, Nature ain’t the Brian Urlacher of words either.
Anyway, it’s not a physical competition. It’s the age old question. How much of what we do is based on our inherent characteristics, and how much is based on what we take in from our environment?
When you start to think about it, it takes us far beyond explanations of what clothes we wear and what kind of temper we have. Everything that exists can be weighed on the coldly penetrating balance scale of Inherent Need against Circumstance.
History bequeathes us the wreckage of some phenomena that were thought to be nature’s command.
‘Twasn’t until 1776 that a nation succeeded in forming a People’s Government. Until then, nobility lay in giving your life for the honor of a random dude. We look back now and have no ***** clue how a world could have been that dumb. (Random odd opinion: I’d venture to suggest some innate need for a monarch-like figure, manifest today in the idolization of celebrity figures and the acceptance of Chassidic Rebbes. I’m probably crazy, but don’t you sleep better at night, knowing that if the world explodes, Angelina Jolie will also need to survive? And though we may be just a bunch of lame-ass rabble whom nobody cares about, surely somebody will be finding solutions for Madonna. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to piggy-back with her.)
While many countries had abolished slavery long before the U.S. did, it was generally understood that African Americans were inferior to white people. It wasn’t malicious, it was just obvious that this was nature’s structure. This belief was commonly held as late as the 1940s, when the National Basketball Association was founded.
Today, many political battles are fought over issues that would fit neatly on the NVN scale. The most obvious one, Homosexuality, is not even the most obvious one. Before you debate the rightness and wrongness of gayness, based on whether homosexuality is the result of instinct or environment, you need to figure out if right and wrong is instinct or environment.
Here are some examples that I ponder, wondering if the depth of our need for them is as inherent as it seems, or if centuries of conditioning has fooled us into them. And of course that leads to the obvious next question: How did they start?
(in no specific order)
1. Prayer
2. Religion in general
3. Sports
4. Government
5. Friendship
6. Value of aesthetics (esp. flowers and jewelry)
7. Fashion
8. Fashion
9. I don’t know it just seems so especially random I said it twice
So, dear barely existent readers, I now hand it to you. Can you possibly explain why people the world over, cultures that had no contact for thousands of years, imvariably hold up gold as the platinum standard of wealth? Could you, by acknowledging and re-acknowledging the superfluity of the institution, live without friends?
And a more stimulating question: Which present day givens are going down? Will people, in a hundred years, wear no shirts? Have no pets? Wear only one shoe? Walk on hands and knees?
Comment, Comment, COMMENT!

Chassidishe Meiselach

The chassidim of the great Rebbe Reb Bitterrenaissance tell over the following story:
Once, when the rebbe was getting ready to go to bed, as was his custom at night, his young daughter began to cry.
Now the crying of the rebbe's daughter certainly resonated in the highest worlds, and that is how Reb Bitterrenaissance heard it, for his room was down the hall.
He made his way to the room, hoping to vanquish the evil that caused the innocent child to cry. As he approached, the girl vomited, all over her crib, her blankie, and even on the floor.
The Rebbe quickly called the holy Rebetzin to help him clean up.
As they worked, the rebbe's child, by now appeased, pointed to the throw-up and asked, "Dis is da mess?"
The rebbe took his daughter by the hand and said, "Yes mein kind. But Tatty and Mommy are cleaning it up."
The Rebbe paused, in deep thought, then continued. "And not just this mess, mein kind. Whenever you make a mess, no matter how big, the Tatty can clean it up.

_______________________________________________

R' Moshe Eisemann relates that on a visit to a member of the Levovitz family, he saw a picture on the wall, of their grandfather, R' Yerucham (Mashgiach in Mir). In the picture, he was surrounded by bochurim. All of the bochurim were facing to the left of the picture, but R' Yerucham looked straight ahead, R' Yerucham's eyes, though, were pointing to the left as well.

R' Eisemann asked the family what the picture was. They said that the bochurim had gathered along the side of the road to view the retinue for a high ranking official who was visiting the town. The bochurim all looked down the road to see if the official was coming. R' Yerucham, being an intense ba'al mussar, did not turn to look. However, he did shift his gaze to where the official was approaching.

R' Eisemann said, we see two things from this story.
1. The intense self control of a ba'al mussar, and
2. Ba'alei mussar are also human.