You’re Afraid? Good!

Morris, the Governor's most trusted assistant, died in his sleep one night. The Governor had depended on Morris for advice on every subject, from pending bills to wardrobe decisions. In addition, Morris had been his closest friend.

At the funeral, one eager beaver made his way to the Governor's side. "Governor," the man said, "is there a chance that I could take Morris' place?"

"Certainly," the governor replied. "But you'd better hurry. I think the undertaker is almost finished."

***

Rabbi Sholom Ber, the fifth Rebbe in the Chabad dynasty, once advised one of his Chassidim to become a Shochet (ritual slaughterer). The Chossid was reluctant: "But Rebbe, I'm afraid! It's a big responsibility!"

The Rebbe smiled, and said: "Who then should I appoint as a Shochet? Someone who is not afraid? Your apprehension, shows on your fear of heaven and sincerity!"

Boy oh boy! Tell that to the wannabee celebrities and politicians out there… "I'm the best for the job!" "My experience shows that I can tackle any issue!" As if we can have 100% confidence in their ability to weather any storm…

Where's the realization and [hence] apprehension of the responsibility that leadership requires? Isn't it ironic that at the same time when speeches upon speeches of self idolizing hopeful's, are being hounded into our ears constantly; polls show that 75% of Americans believe that there is a big lack of leadership in our country?

In this weeks Torah portion (see Rashi) we find a scene, where the newly appointed high priest Aharon, who's time had arrived to sacrifice his first offering to G-d, stood on the side reluctant to begin his line of duty.

His brother Moshe came over to him and said: "Aharon! Why are you fearful? – Lekach nivcharta – You were chosen for this position!"

The holy Baal Shem Tov took those two words "Lekach nivcharta" and shined a deeper light into them;

It was at that moment, when Moshe saw the fear and hesitation of his brother Aharon to accept the highest position, that he finally understood that "Lekach nivcharta – it was because of your fear of heaven, that you were selected."

Of course one must have the skills and calling for the 'job' of leadership, but some humility is just as much as an ingredient for the making of true leadership.

Take our Rebbe as an example; for a full year after his father-in-law's passing, he refused to accept the mantle of leadership of the Chabad movement. Only a year later did he reluctantly agree, and the rest is history…

*

If only this email would be forwarded to the wannabees, we would save billions of tax payers' money on political campaigns….

A serious Purim Story

L'chaim!

This is some holiday! Boy, if only Haman knew what kind of holiday he gave us… Anyway, as this wonderful holiday approaches, I would like to share with you a beautiful story to help you 'warm up' for this one of kind Yom Tov.

Our story takes us back two years. Location: Milan Italy. Date: Two days after Purim.

Everything was running late, like usual. Purim came and went, and then… oops! We had forgotten to deliver the Mishloach Monos (Purim gifts) to the children who had participated during the past summer in the Chabad day camp.

So we sat down with a map and marked out where we'll have to visit that evening. All in all, there were about forty houses within four square blocks. The Rabbi, a sworn optimist, gave us his word, that we would need no more than an hour and a half to do the whole job. Not bad.

"Oh, by the way – said the Rabbi – there is one family, the Cohen family, that lives about fifteen minutes out of this area, there's only a small chance you'll make it there, but I'll mark it down anyway, just in case…"

Two of us (a friend by the name of Yisrael and yours truly) gladly volunteered to do the rounds. We set out at eight at night, planning to return to home base 'round nine thirty.

Little did we know what was in store for us… From the second we began the route everything seemed to go wrong. As we trudged from one house (nobody home), to another (she's sleeping already), to another (non existing address), our spirits plummeted. Murphy's Law was working over time that evening.

It's was already ten past nine. We haven't met even one kid. Our hands we're hurting from the heavy bags, and to top it all off, we realized that we have gotten lost. Oy vey, why did we jump into this mess?

We stopped our aimless walking, to study the map. Where are we? Hmmm… Ah! I found us! "Yisrael! We have good news and bad news. Bad news first: we're way out of our 4 square block radius. Good news: we're five minutes away from the one house that we were not planning on going to!"

We decided to make our way to the way-out house, to try our luck over there. Like our sages said: "when one changes his location, he changes his luck".

So tired and discouraged we made our way to our destination. Don't ask me how, but somehow we managed to get lost again, so by the time we reached the right building we were a real sorry/shabby sight.

We rang the bell. And yes! The kids were home! And awake! Oh, how relieved we were. We ran into the building, into the elevator, forgot what floor we were heading to, and got lost… To make a short story long; after walking up and down the stairs we found 'ours'.

[By now I had lost the strength of cordiality;] I turned the mom and told her how we were knocked out, and would appreciate a cold drink.

She welcomed us warmly into her simple apartment, and gave us drinks and hamantashen ("best in town"), and asked us to share some Torah thoughts. So we did.

Ten minutes later, and we have shared with her and the kids many thoughts/jokes, and she was swallowing it all up asking for more, and I had run out of things to day (could you believe it? That itself was the first miracle of the evening). So I related to her the painful saga of our evening, how "truth to be told we were not planning to come to your house tonight, but for some reason, nothing worked out and we got lost, so…"

Suddenly she burst out crying, or to describe it more accurately, her whole body was shaking as she sobbed. What did I say wrong? Did I offend her? What do I do now?

After a few long minutes of uncontrolled sobs, she told us through the tears her painful story: "just recently my life has taken a turn for the worse, my husband left me, and my children are having a very hard time adjusting to this new life style. To make matters even harder, I have no money to support my children.

"So this morning, I turned to G-d in despair, and asked him to send me a sign, a sign that he remembers me and cares for me.

"So when you shared with me how this was not a planned visit, how this was divine providence. I realized that G-d had answered my prayer, and sent me a sign in the form of two angels, to show me that he cares.

"Thank you G-d for sending me these angels!"

As she continued sobbing for quite a while, I reflected on the last few hours, and understood that it wasn't Murphy's Law that was in charge that evening; it was G-d's Law.

She calmed down, we blessed her (my friend was a Kohen), and said goodbye. We walked out shaken, touched as never before.

Happy purim! Dear fellow angels! Let us all be an angel to a fellow Jew this Purim, and share with him/her the light and happiness of this great day.

Moshiach Now!

Happy Purim!

Shabbat Shalom!

(Rabbi) Levi Avtzon

Have some laughs at:

http://www.freilach.blogspot.com/

When small is big, and big is small

In honor of my parents, two special people who appreciate and remember the small things, Mazal Tov! For the "Silver" wedding anniversary, may you enjoy many more happy years together.

A mother's resolution: I will always protect the rights of my children, especially their right to remain silent.

*

"Sacrifices" is the main topic of our Parshah "Vayikra", and the Chasidic masters have taught, that the greatest sacrifices are from within man.

The more I observe myself and the world around me, I have come to realize, that it is easier to make huge changes in ones lifestyle, than to make small ones.

Let's study the nature of relationships as an example. We find, that commitments like marriage or bringing a child into this world, which by any stretch of imagination are huge undertakings, are by the majority of us are 'a given'. People from every walk of life, stride straight into these huge life altering events, without looking back.

However, when it comes to small sacrifices, like 'sacrificing' just five minutes a day to the same child/spouse he/she so wholeheartedly decided "to care and nurture for the rest of my life", suddenly it's a burden, a nuisance.

The same 'phenomenon' can be found in our relationship with G-d. Many of us especially those who have grown up in observant homes, almost automatically commit ourselves to never eat a McDonalds French-fries even once, to not work one day a week, and pray everyday, three times a day FOREVER!

Huge sacrifices, no?

Yet when expected to utilize the very same time designated for prayer, to pray with emotion and sincerity, and not to just mumble the text and go through the motions out of habit; all of a sudden we seem to fall from our high standards.

Why? Where is the hero who never missed a day of Teffilin? Where is that holy "give-my-life-away" individual, who sports a beard and hat and spends two plus hours a day in the synagogue instead of socializing? Why can't he concentrate of his prayers?

True, big commitments are commendable. But 'greatness' is found in the small steps, those which don't make us feel like an heroic "prince in shiny armor", and (for some reason) don't make us feel overly 'guilty' when avoided or transgressed.

Take this smart mother's resolution to heart: I will be a good, fair and loving parent to my children. I will provide them with enriching experiences and opportunities. I will give them a solid foundation on which to build a useful life. After all, they may eventually be responsible for choosing a nursing home for me to live out my final days.

I visited a perfect Community

In the memory of the Yeshiva students killed in the sanctification of G-d's Name. And in merit of a speedy recovery to the injured. Dear G-d, please send us Moshiach, when evil will be history, and we will dwell in peace in our Homeland.

Clip on the synagogue bulletin paper:

Judith remains in the hospital and needs blood donors for more transfusions. She is also having trouble sleeping and requests tapes of Rabbi David's sermons.

***

Just a few short weeks ago, I visited a perfect community.

In this community there is no hate.

No one talks ill of their neighbor.

No jealousy.

No murder and theft.

No shouting and beating.

No hurtful words are said; hence no apologies are ever necessary.

No relationships are strained and torn.

No war, no strife.

Visitors come by the thousands, yet no one has a bad word to say about the community.

As I strolled through this perfect place, I contemplated this phenomenon; wow, this is the ideal! If only I could take it as an example…

After walking around for quite some time, I sat on a bench to rest, and opened the weekly Parshah, to catch up on 'what's going on'.

Whew! Time flies. This week we conclude the book of Exodus. Anxious to find out the "end", I grabbed a peek at the final verse.

This is what I read: "When the cloud would rise from atop the Tabernacle, the Jews would know that the time had come, to continue on their journey".

What a depressing finish. G-d leaves us. Shouldn't we be 'wrap it up' with how G-d is always with us? Why conclude with His departure?

I studied the commentary, who shared a beautiful insight; the Torah is teaching that a person must remember that his mission in life to move on, even when G-d is not there.

The Jewish mission is accomplished when the cloud of G-d has lifted i.e. exile, and nevertheless the Jew goes on, he pushes forward. Falls down, and rises. Up and down the ladder he goes. But he forever keeps on trying.

That is the community that G-d loves and dwells in.

I closed the book.

And without looking back I walked out of the cemetery.