On my honor...

One of the things that I have always found rather amazing is that there is not more interest in Scouting (Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, and similar organizations) in the Jewish community, let alone the Orthodox Jewish community. I'm sure a good size of that aversion can be attributed to Bitul Torah, that one should study Torah sufficiently. Others would more glibly assert "We spent forty years camping in the desert! Wasn't that enough??"

I spent several years as a scout leader in Pack/Troop 392 in Milwaukee, WI. 392 is one of a number of Scout units in the United States that are Shomer Shabbat. These units observe Shabbat while camping, kashrut, and just about any other mitzvot you care to mention. Furthermore, the ethics and principles around Scouting are already closely aligned with our own as Jews. It is not that Scouting (in my mind) is Bitul Torah, but rather provides a practical framework for putting that learning into practice in our society, but providing children and teenagers an environment for exercising leadership and teamwork skills.

Even if it involves building a trebuchet to hurl a potato a few hundred feet, but I digress.

Recently, Michael Freed, a Cantor at Congregation Beth Shalom in Long Beach, CA, published an open map of observant scout units in the United States. [The map could just as easily list such units outside the US, but no such units have so listed themselves.] There are units listed in the New York City area, Los Angeles, Milwaukee, Minneapolis, Chicago and Rochester (Yes, Rochester!) NY. I would encourage you, if you have kids, to check into this activity for them as an alternative to soccer, swimming, or tennis (let alone Nintendo, Pokemon, or other activities). The level of observance I'm sure will vary from unit to unit. Nominally, these are all observant groups, but at a basic level, we are all Jews, and some of these units may put our faith into practice in a manner other then which you are accustomed. Still, this is an activity that ought to get greater play (pun unintended) in our community.

Shabbat Shalom

Au revoir Avelut

Just before the secular Thanksgiving holiday here in the United States, the first anniversary of my father's passing; the first yahrtzeit, occurred. I wish I would have been able to go to New York and say Kaddish at his grave that day, but for reasons beyond this blog post, that was not possible. Just before visiting my son at his yeshiva, I did stop in New York to visit not only his grave, but that of my mother's parents, and her mother's parents, as they are all buried near one another.

This has been a time of reflection for me, for this and other reasons. A gal I dated for awhile recently opined to me that Hashem is always sending us messages, we just have to figure them out and listen to them.

I've given that some thought, and here is how I view that.

I am Jewish not simply because my mother is Jewish, as was her mother, and so on. That essentially means that I have an obligation to be Jewish -- to follow mitzvot and so on. After all, I have any of a number of friends that were likewise born to a Jewish mother and I don't see them running about in kippot constantly.

Being born Jewish makes Judaism an obligation to me, but it is a joyous obligation to me, because I choose to make it so! I LIKE being Jewish!
I get a great sense of satisfaction in seeing my children take up the mantle of the legacy of their great-to-the-nth grandparents, despite the temptations of our modern society. I get a great sense of satisfaction in seeing my children make Judaism their own, and leveraging the benefits of our modern society to enable their practice! Daf Yomi on the iPod; streaming The Chevre over the Internet; the list just goes on!

Things happen in life. We can listen to the voice that pulls us towards Esau, or the one that pulls us towards Jacob, and yet, we are both Esau and Jacob. I try to choose Jacob's path, and use the facilities of Esau within me to travel that path.

This past week we concluded the celebration of Chanukah, and I can't help but draw a parallel between Chanukah and this week's parasha, Vayigash.

To recount, Joseph had his servants sequester his goblet in Benjamin's pack. After his brothers left to return to Caanan, Joseph dispatch men to overtake his brothers, and find the goblet. Of course, they did so, and brought everyone back to Mitzrayim.

When they are brought before Joseph, he demanded that Benjamin be kept as his slave, but the brothers had learned their lesson of some twenty years earlier when they sold Joseph off. Yehudah passionately takes up Benjamin's cause, compelling Joseph to relent and reveal his identity.

Everything is a lesson. When it comes to our children, we must defend them vigorously and ensure their upbringing.

The juxtaposition of Vayigash to Chanukah is incredibly relevant. The Greeks had conquered Israel and ruled the land. They allowed the Jews to practice Judaism, but were adamant about children going to Greek schools and not learning Torah. Just as with Joseph, Benyamin, and Yehudah, the Maccabees stood up to the Greeks and said "No!"

Everything is a lesson. When it comes to our children, we must defend them vigorously and ensure their Jewish upbringing.

Davening with the Tstudents, redux

It's really a pleasure spending time with my son out at his Yeshiva, if for not other reason, all these young men come to me and greet me, calling me "Mr. Gursky". It is natural on their part, not at all forced.

Davening with the Tstars -- Tzadeks and Tstudents...

A few interesting things of note these past few weeks.

1. Grand Rabbi Moshe Taub, the Kalover Rebbe, was in Fairfax at the beginning of Chesven and I met with him briefly. The meeting was memorable for how simply unremarkable it was. We shook hands and he pronounced that I was under a great deal of stress. [I mean no disrespect here, but it seems one could make that statement about almost anyone you randomly pick![
   
   As we parted, he wished I should find my beshert and have many healthy children. I politely responded with a thank you, but that I already had three children.
   
   When you meet this Rebbe, you fill out a small form with some basic information -- your name, your marital status, your parents, and your siblings or children. There are two forms -- one for single people and one for married people. Being single, I used that. Unfortunately, there's no accommodation on the form for divorced people!
   
2. Three days ago, I drove up to New York City so that I could say Tehillim at my Dad's grave, in advance of his first Yahrtzeit a week from Tuesday. At my Rabbi's urging, I also stopped at the Ohel, the graves of the Rabbis Yosef Yitzhak Schneerson and Menachem Mendel Schneerson; the sixth and seventh leaders of the Chabad Lubavitch movement.
   
   One of my Rabbi's younger brothers met me there and discussed the Ohel a bit. He invited me to write a short note with whatever I cared to say, and then escorted me into the cemetery and out to the grave-sites. I read Tehillim, and then tore up my letter and placed it on he grave, along with uncounted other notes.
   
   The Rebbes' graves are walled off from the rest of the cemetery, and while I don't know why, I presume it is to maintain some sense of decorum for the others in the cemetery. The consequence of this is that when I was there, most of the area was shaded, but I was actually in a sunny spot. For a few minutes, that stress that Rabbi Taub sensed in me passed and a feeling of serenity fell upon me.
   
3. After New York, I drove out to spend time with my children, in particular my older son who is attending Yeshiva. This is parent's weekend, and I get to spend time davening and learning with my son. There is no feeling like this. My grandparents and great-grandparents left Europe to find a better life for themselves and their children here in the United States, but at the cost of our heritage as Jews. My parents and I worked to fulfil that vision, and it is my objective to pay that back, and facilitate my children's return to that heritage, albeit in terms that are functional for the 21st century. Spending this weekend with my son at his yeshiva is satisfying in ways that cannot be voiced.

Shavuah tov.

Mourning Kaddish

(Pun unintended.)

Today (9 Cheshvan 5768) I went to Chabad in Fairfax instead of Tysons's Corner for Shacharit. Today is the end of the eleventh month since my father's death and is the last day I say Kaddish during the year-long mourning period. [For those not aware of it, Kaddish is only said through the end of the eleventh month, although one remains in mourning through the end of the year long period.]

I have to admit that I find the proximity to my own Bar Mitzvah (which was on 8 Cheshvan so many years ago), well, heartening. As I alluded to in the prior post, it was the experiences leading up to my Bar Mitzvah that formed the heart of my practices today, and the two people whom I most closely associate with that are my Rabbi at the time and my own father.

Now my Dad was a brilliant physicist, and that strongly colored my relationship with him. That's not to say I don't/didn't love him as any son does for a father, but it was definitely a different relationship. Most dads play sports with their sons or they go to a ballgame together -- mine took me to the Museum of Science, or we poured over data from experiments measuring extra-solar x-rays.

Like I said. It was different.

One area though where it wasn't, where my Dad was one among his peers, was in preparing for my Bar Mitzvah. Dad and Rabbi would routinely discuss things at weekly Sunday classes for me, my peers, and their dads as well. Seeing him there, not as a renowned scientist, but just a Dad in jeans and a button down shirt discussing religion and seemingly enjoying it made an indelible impression on my 12 year old mind.

Years later, I travelled back to that synagogue with my (then) wife and infant son, before my daughter and younger son were born, for Shabbat morning services It was, I think, on the occasion of my 10th college reunion. The three of us took seats for the pre-service class in the back of the library (well, two of us, as my son alternated between laps), which was now where the main office and the Rabbi's study were in the days of my youth. One by one, people introduced themselves, and it eventually came to me. I began by remarking that the last time I was in this space, that the office typewriter was in this spot, and that Rabbi was sitting about where his desk was, and I introduced myself and my family, much to the Rabbi's delight.

For whatever reason, as the class progressed, we got into a discussion of time and calendars, which sparked Rabbi to relate the following story:

Years ago, your Dad, having a professional interest in time, asked me for some references about the Hebrew calendar, that he wanted to understand it better, which I gladly provided to him.

Several weeks later, he returned it with great frustration. "I still don't know how it works, but it does work" Dad declared.

Lech Lecha

OK, let me begin with an admission, that I have a particular affinity for Parasha Lech Lecha, as this is my Parasha, that I read for my Bar Mitzvah. Were it not for my experiences leading up to that day, I'd not be writing these words now, and I owe an incalculable debt to my father and my Rabbi for their roles.

OK, and to the Brandeis University Grad Student who taught me my Torah and Haftorah portions. So Moshe Peru, wherever you are, thank you.

Lech Lecha this year also marked the Bar Mitzvah of a cousin of mine, at a shul I used to be affiliated with a number of years ago. I'm not comfortable there today as my own path in Judaism has led me to a far more traditional practice, but there was some comfort in being in the same space where I once led my infant children onto the Bimah to sing "Adon Olam", where my (then) wife and children were called to open and close the Oron Kodesh before leaving Washington DC. I got to talk with my daughter's preschool teacher, and to kvell about all she has accomplished over the years and her upcoming trip to Israel with her classmates.

My cousin did a respectable job, albeit I found it, well, minimal. When my peers and were called as B'nai Mitzvah, even at the Reform shul I learned in, the expectation was to chant Torah and Haftorah (and if we didn't chant the whole parasha, it certainly felt like it!). When my older son and his peers were called not three years ago, they did the whole thing as well, and when my younger son and his peers are called (G-d willing) in the next three years, they too will, as well.

I wonder what my cousin will take away from this experience, which way his life will go. Did his learning to this day plant the seeds in him that will lead to a life of Torah and Mitzvot? Will he become, like many of my peers, like the peers of my children from their days here in Washington, become regulars at service (twice a year, once on the first day of Rosh Hashanah and once on Yom Kippur)? Will he remember that Lech Lecha is a special Parasha, the first in which only good and wonderful things happen, or the DJ at the elaborte lunch at the fancy hotel?

One day, I expect he will return to Israel (he was there once before, albeit at age 6...). I hope he connects with Eretz Yisrael. We need all types of Jews, learned and not as learned, observant and not as observant, but it seems almost a foreign concept to me, how a Jewish man or woman could look upon and be in Eretz Yisrael and not realize this is our home and that these are our ways.

Gematria, the body, and this blog...

This blog is named (as I'm sure you know), Capitol Chai Life. Capitol is an allusion to the US Capitol building, located here in Washington, DC. Chai Life is a double entrendre, playing on the phrase "High Life", and on the Hebrew word for life is, which is, well, Chai.

Now Chai is spelled Chet-Yud, which also represents the number 18. Consequently, 18 is considered a powerful and positive number in Judaism. Donations are often made in multiples of 18 for example, with double chai (36) being very common.

Now consider the human body, in particular our hands and feet, fingers and toes. With one hand, I can count from zero to five. If I use the fingers of my other hand to represent complete iterations of the first hand, now I can count from zero to thirty-five. If I use the toes one one foot, now I am up to 215, and using the toes on the other foot, I get up to 1,295.

So what's the connection?

With two hands, I get to double chai, less 1 (35 = 36 -1 = 6 x 6 -1 = 6^2 -1) and with both hands and both feet, I get to double chai squared, less 1 (1295 = 1296 - 1 = 36 x 36 - 1 = 36^2 - 1 = 6^4 - 1).

Furthermore, even though we only counted to 1,295, we have actually counted 1,296 numbers, since zero, although the absence of anything, is in fact something.

OK, I'm a math geek. I think it's neat.

I have a great pun about shaving and Sukkot...

...although I don't think most people would get it. I am going to split hairs about Sukkot. [And how does one split a hair? I believe the word is "Shave". If you don't get the pun, don't worry, I will explain it below.]

I recently heard a sermon that focused on the film Ushpizin. If you are not familiar with the film, it concerns the plight of a religious couple around the time of Sukkot, who find themselves beset by a rather tawdry pair of guests over the course of the holiday.

Part of premise of the film is that the couple is very poor, and have difficulty in purchasing the materials needed for Sukkot, especially an etrog. As it stands, the couple find themselves the benefactor of an anonymous donation, enough to buy an esquisite etrog, which the husband quickly does, and just as the holiday approaches.

Now if you are not familiar with Sukkot and etrogs, the short version is that during this holiday, Jews are suppose to "wave" four species (a palm frond, a willow branch, a myrtle branch, and an etrog) every day of the holiday, and in all directions. Particular attention is paid to the etrog, that it should be unblemished, fragrant, and otherwise perfect. There are men who will scrutinize etrogs with a magnifying glass, to ensure the quality of the etrog they are buying.

Regardless, at some point in the film, the guests take this expensive etrog, cut it up and use it as a garnish for a salad. [I said they were tawdry...] Needless to say, the husband is very distressed about this. Which brings me back to the sermon.

The Rabbi in this instance suggested that the message that we should take away from the film is that we need to be cautious about how we approach ritual, that ritual is not an end to itself, and we should be careful not to come to view ritual as an extension of materialism.

Well, I have a problem with this -- not with that message per se, but rather with the idea that this is the moral of the story.

Ushpizin is a film. In particular, it is a work of fiction. Everything that happens in the film comes from the mind of the writer, Shuli Rand. Now Mr. Rand has written a popular and engrossing tale, but should we be taking lessons for our lives from it? Should we infer that we are individually focusing on the trappings of ritual, or that doing so from a very broad perspective is problematic?

Ultimately, my view is that we must look at the events around our own lives. How can we do more? How can we grow as Jews? How can we further Tikkun Olam? We must look to our own lives and answer these questions. Movies are just, well, movies.

[OK, so here's the pun. I'm splitting hairs with what the Rabbi (I'll not say which Rabbi, other then it was neither Rabbi (Levi) Deitsch or Rabbi Bluming, both of whom I daven with frequently) said in this sermon. I agree with his point, not with his analogy. Well, another way to split a hair is to shave it. (Yes, I know, paradigm shift.) OK, fine, but if I'm going to shave, I need to do it in a Sukkah... (Shave or Shav is how the Hebrew word for "Sit" is pronounced...)]

The right place at the right time

The other day, I needed to go to the market and get some food for the office. Giant Food (a local market chain) is a block away, and I will often walk over there during the day.

This morning, as I walked down the aisle towards the kosher food, a bocher (a Yeshiva student) was studying the individual items. I wished him "Boker Tov" (good morning) and continued on.

Moments later, he is talking to me in Hebrew and I have no idea what he's saying, but it is more then simply a hello back. I quietly respond that I don't speak Hebrew, and after I few minutes, I come to understand that he's looking for a special bread -- he keeps talking about mezonot, which refers to cookies, crackers, and doughnuts, but he also insists that what he wants is none of those things.

Now I don't speak Hebrew, but Rabbi does.

A few minutes later, Rabbi has spoken with him, and I gather he is looking for bread that is Pas Yisroel and Yishon, which (alas) is not to be found at Giant. I feel badly for the young man, but at least he now knows.

The Greatest American Davener, Part 1 of an occasional series

In Judaism, we are taught that on Rosh Hashanah, Hashem "writes" our fates for the coming year in the Book of Judgement (who will live, who will die, who will be prosperous, and so on), that on Yom Kippur it is "sealed", and at the end of Sukkot (Hoshana Rabbah) the decree is handed down by the Heavenly Court.

Well, Hashem was DEFINITELY speaking to me on Rosh Hashanah. I took off my glasses during Shema, to cover my eyes, and when I put them back on, the left temple broke off. During Yom Kippur, I was inspecting the right temple, and it broke off! (I can't wait to see what happens during Sukkot).

So while Hashem was definitely sending me a message, I've no idea what it is (other then GET NEW GLASSES!) and I've don't have the translation manual!

Continuous process improvement. Next year in the Residence Inn!

It was very nice being three flights away from services this year, but still, there are some things I would do differently:

• During Rosh Hashanah, services were only at the Westpark on Erev Rosh Hashanah and the first morning. The remainder of the yontif and on Shabbat, we were back at the shul
  Next year -- Staying at the Westpark was nice, but the Residence Inn would be a better choice, being closer to the shul and the homes where dinners were held. The rooms at the Residence Inn also have kitchens (and more to the point refrigerators!) for storing food.
• On the day of Kol Nidre, Rabbi called -- he's forgotten to buy orange juice! [Note to all, insert your best OJ puns here, as he had just robbed a memorabilia dealer in Las Vegas.]


1. No problem buying Orange Juice, just remember that Minute Maid does NOT have an acceptable hecshur!
2. Bring a large wheeled cooler next year, capable of holding 24 Half Gallon cartons. You can dump ice into the coolers so the OJ stays cold during the day
   

Hear me! Yom Kippur 5768

The memory of Yom Kippur is fading, although the promises I've made to myself having lived through another year remain fresh in my mind -- remember to say Modeh Anee each morning when I awaken, to wash first thing (next up -- putting a basin by the bed along with a Negel Wasser...)

There was a D'var Torah that one of the young men at the shul delivered on the Shabbat preceeding Yom Kippur that sticks in my mind.

Every day, when Jews daven Sacharit (the morning minyan prayer), we start with the Akedah -- the story of the Binding of Isaac by Abraham. Typically, we view this as a test of man's faith in Hashem. Hashem wishes to judge if Abraham is worthy to be the patriach of the Jewish people. Isaac is not a problem, and we even read later in the service that Isaac allows this to happen willingly -- Sarah has raised Isaac well, imbuing him with complete trust in Hashem. Abraham, however, is different.

Abraham grew up in the world of idols and (more the point) the world of sacrifice. As offensive as we find it today, that included human sacrifice. For Abraham, sacrificing Isaac was easy, which brings us to the point of the young man's D'var Torah, that insomuch as Hashem was testing Abraham...

...Abraham was testing Hashem.

It's an interesting thought. Abraham has already banished Hagar and (more importantly) Ishmael, which could not have been easy for him. We know that Sarah was right to do this, to remove other influences from Isaac's life, and that is reflected in Isaac's trust of Abraham now, as he has absolute faith in Hashem. Now Abraham is putting Hashem to the test, by binding Isaac and rendering him immobile and defenseles, and raising a knife to sacrifice his son.

In with the new -- welcome to Rosh Hashanah 5768

It is the midst of High Holy Day season as it were. Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur have passed. Sukkot begins tomorrow night with Simchat Torah and Shemini Atzeret immediately following.

I davened with Chabad in Tyson's Corner for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Rabbi (Levi) Deitsch had arranged to use one of the large function rooms at the Westpark Hotel, as has been done in years past. The Westpark is certainly not at the same level as say, the Sheraton or Marriott down the street, nor these business hotels like Courtyard or Garden Inn, but the rooms are clean, and the hotel is very accomodating of our needs, allowing us to bring in kosher food, which would be problematic elsewhere.

While davening at a hotel is not, well, the most "spiritual" environment, I must give them credit for something rare at High Holiday services -- it's COMFORTABLE!!! I'm not crammed in to my seat. The air conditioning is working. People are generally quiet (although the man sitting behind me was having to deal with his teenage son). Still, I could focus on davening better then at many other places I've been this time of year.

The Rabbi's youngest brother has joined us for Rosh Hashanah. He's only a few years older then my own son. Even more amazing though, is despite being part of this respected Chabad family from Crown Heights, he's a Red Sox fan!

After Mincha and Maariv on that first night of Rosh Hashanah, there is dinner at Rabbi's home. I got separated from the group walking back in the lobby. I waited there a few minutes, not realizing they had left. I hesitated before ultimately deciding that if nothing else, I can use the exercise. I cut across Tyson's Corner, across Routes 7 and then 123. I was as surprised as anyone when I came onto Old Courthouse Road was (approaching me no less!) the Rabbi, his brother, his cousin (a young woman from Australia), and the chazzan!

I have to admit that I was quite impressed with the Rabbi's cousin. She wore heels the entire yontif. It hurt ME to watch her walk in them!

The Rebbitzin had prepared a wondeful meal for us. Challah and Honey led the way of course, followed by salads, gefilte fish, hummus, chicken, beef, and dessert. Any of a number of L'Chaims were given and as is the tradition at Rabbi's table, we all discussed highlights of our week.

The first day was quiet. Services were again at the hotel, and several old friends of mine, from when I lived in Washington before 1999, were present. The highlight was dinner.

Chabad of Tyson's has among its core members a group of young men, professionals in the area. They work for any of a number of "Beltway Bandits" [companies like SAIC, MITRE, and Northrop Grumman, that specialize in building systems for the US Federal Government] or the Big 4 [Ernest and Young, KPMG, PWC, and Deloitte]. One of these young men, Alex, hosted dinner that second night.

It was comforting in some way to be there. The oldest one there (aside from myself) was 25 -- young enough to be my own son (setting aside that my oldest son is a decade younger then that). There were some two dozen young men and women. Some were observant, but most were not, yet here they all were together, connecting in their own way to our common religion.

Alex had managed to put together a fine meal for everyone, but he was not the most practiced host. It was amusing to hear him repeated ask "Did you respond to the e-Vite", to watch him fuss over getting the food out, and ensure everyone's needs were attended to. Still, it was chaotic, and I took advantage of the situation and tried to bring some order to the world (and get people's minds off Alex trying to get the food out!)

I stood up, and banged on the wall for attention. I've been where these people are now, I've learned how to get the attention of an audience and hold it, at least for a short while. I used that to begin an exercise that Rabbi uses at his Shabbat table. I take a moment to introduce myself. I state the obvious, that I suspect I'm of their parent's generation, and to try and put them at ease, I have everyone call out their names at once, then a second time louder, just to make sure we all heard one another. I go on.

"Each Shabbat", I begin, "Rabbi goes around the table and asks each guest 'What inspired you this week'" I start with one young woman at one end of the table -- "Miss, what is something that inspired you". She tells a story about a puppy she and her boyfriend have, and how the dog managed to destroy a cache of cigars the boyfriend had sequestered when he started an effort to quite smoking but a few days before. Around the table we go. Several of the people at dinner area teachers and the speak of their students. One young man talks about his own parents. Another young woman talks about her decision to become more observant, and that her boyfriend at first left, feeling uncomfortable about this, but in time reconsiders and decides he wants to make this work for her. One story after another.

Finally, there is but one story -- my own. After all, I can't ask these people to talk without willing to share my own thoughts. I tell them of my own children, how they study at an orthodox school, something that would have been unthinkable in my own childhood; how my oldest son, a sophmore at mesivta, (an Orthodox Jewish High School, often connected to a Yeshiva) was studying for semicha. I told them that as a parent, there was nothing that made me prouder to see my own children build upon the foundation that I had laid for them, that my parents had laid for me, and so on, and specifically to use that to recapture our culture, that our forebears gave up when they came to the United States. As the meal began, I wished that they should all find their besherits, be that person someone in the room with them tonight (as one couple attending was recently engaged to one another) or elsewhere, that they bring Jewish children into the world, and raise them to be strong vibrant members of Eretz Yisrael.