As we remember the Rebbe and commemorate his twenty-fifth yartzeit, we must reflect on the fact that there is a marked difference in how this special day is viewed and experienced. There is a generation of people who merited to see the Rebbe firsthand, experience Shabbos with the Rebbe, and have private intimate meetings with the Rebbe. It can be said that on Gimmel Tammuz, these people celebrate “what was” and talk about “what will be.” However, there is a whole other generation of Lubavitchers who never had the chance to “be by the Rebbe.” In fact, for us, the right now is all we know. We cannot speak of “what was.” Rather, we speak of “what is” and, with high hopes, discuss “what will be.”
When we are asked to define you, to describe you, to explain who you are and what you mean to us and to the world, what do we say? What do we say when we proclaim that you are our leader, the leader? I will not tell stories of what you contributed to the world at large, how much you accomplished, and the miraculous blessings that you gave. Instead, I will speak lively of the mirrored reflection you provide for us and the empowerment you give, not gave, for us to be who we are. For me to be who I am. That is how you can best be celebrated and honored. Who am I? I am a chossid. I will overcome my fear of asking strangers to put on tefillin because I know that the opportunity for another to connect to G-d is greater than my own fear of rejection or awkwardness. I will reach into my pocket to give money to someone I have never met before because if they are hungry, then I am hungry. Who am I? I am a chossid. I live life with the weight of the world on my shoulders, with a furrowed brow, and a tired expression because I know that bringing Moshiach is as much my job as anyone else. I will eat in the sukkah while the rain pours down and my knaidel becomes soggy and the chummas flows over the bowl because I am more comfortable being surrounded by Hashem’s embrace than worrying about my socks getting wet. I focus on being spiritually comfortable rather than being physically comfortable. Who am I? I am a chossid. I will drive long distances to buy cholov yisrael milk or switch to soy because your recommendation is my standard. I will find the time that I don’t have in the day to say Tehillim, learn Chumash, and study Tanya. Who am I? I am a chossid. I will talk about your teachings with others with unbridled passion, without even mentioning your name, because you have taught me that spreading yiddishkeit is more important than honor. I will take on more when I’m barely able to achieve what I originally had planned because I know that there is always more that I can contribute. Who am I? I am a chossid. I will get up early and go to bed late struggling to use my talents as a positive outlet to spread Judaism. I will carry a picture of you in my wallet because when I look at you I see a mother, a father, a coach, a teacher, a mentor, a psychologist, a fan, a grandparent, a best friend. I will look at my relationship with G-d as one of ‘ze kali v’anaveihu.’ This is my G-d, my personal G-d, and you were the shadchan. Who am I? I am a chossid. I will take the mehudar path in all mitzvahs because I know true satisfaction comes from overcoming “I can’t” and turning it into “I did.” Much of who I am and who I strive to become is because of who you are and what you push me to achieve. I am a reflection of you. Who am I? I am a chossid. I will continue to anxiously await being with you again with the coming of Moshiach, regardless of who it is. Who am I? I am a chossid. Who am I? I am a chossid. Who am I? I am a chossid. I am your chossid. And you, Rebbe, have made all the difference. - By Rabbi Nuta Yisrael Shurack From the corner of my eye, I catch my 4 year old nonchalantly add something to my fix-it box. "Mama," she comes to be with a look of desperation, "I added my rain coat to the special box. Can you sew the button back on for me?" I ask her if she knew where the large pink button was, to which she replied, "it must have fallen off at the park, can we go there after lunch to look for it? I know you'll find it. You find everything." Gulp. That's, umm, a hefty statement to live up to for little old me. And so, that afternoon, following her younger brother's nap, we retraced our steps back to the park. We searched high and low, near the monkey bars, under the slide, in the sandpit, and over the rock maze. Couldn't find it. I didn't have the heart to break it to her. Well, she broke the news to me. "Mama, don't worry, we haven't found it yet, but that doesn't mean we won't. There are a million places it can be." Yup, onnnnnnnne million, that's right, so another 999,985 places to search. Super! So this fix-it box, that is packed to the brim, started off as a shoe box and has grown over the years to be the size of a packing box. It seems Bayla has forgotten that I also have a tote bag that includes clothes that need to be repaired, hemmed, or spruced up. For all intensive purposes, that's where the coat belongs, but I cut her some slack, as that bag is bursting at the seams too (literally). The fix-it box includes a car that lost its front right wheel, a photo album whose binding has come undone, a stuffed cuddly sheep with some fluff poking out, a book (or two) with some torn pages, a miniature doll house that has started looking less like a palace and more like a barn, a few hair clips whose flowers have gone AWOL, sunglasses with only one lens, a painted pine cone that snapped in half, and some dolls with missing arms, heads, and hair. Just to name a few items. As tedious as it is making my way through the contents of the box, and trying to fix something as quick as another 'precious' item is added, it brings tremendous joy to me. My husband and I love DIY projects. We are do-it-yourself junkies. Why hire someone to do a job when we can do it ourselves, with more attention to detail, and certainly more love. We've painted our apartment, renovated our bathroom, made our own custom sized window screens to keep those pesky mosquitoes out, and replaced the heaters and thermostats throughout the house. Just a few of the tasks we've been able to cross of our projects-list. Future items include tasks like window casing, textured headboards, crown molding, and built in book cases, just to name a few. I think (or rather, I hope) we've passed on our can-do attitude to our young-ins. Not once have I heard my children say, "oh let's just throw it out, we can buy a new one." Despite it usually being less time consuming and often more of a money saver to go out and buy a new item, I don't mind these requests my children make. Many times, we brainstorm together how we'll fix the latest mishap, other times they come up with their own solutions, and sometimes I surprise everyone with my own creative fix. And, well, Bayla was right (she usually is, why do I doubt her?). We found her button. We ventured off the beaten path on the way home from the park that afternoon, through a little "forest" as we like to call it. And lo and behold, there it was, lying right under the funny shaped tree we often stop to gaze at. 'Ahhh,' I was able to let out a sigh of relief, 'the magical giant pink button.' I had forgotten we took this "short cut" in the morning (it's actually a less direct path, but don't tell my kids, we love the scenic route). I sunk into the comfiest chair at home and promptly sewed on the bright button before putting up dinner. As I chopped up some vegetables for the soup, I couldn't help but smile, as I lived up to my title as the Master Finder. I love a good deal. In fact, I rarely pay full price for pretty much anything. I have the best shopping sites bookmarked on my computer, know where to look for the biggest discounts, and am well aware of what months will have the best sales. Pay full price? Not this guy; I know better! But is there any merit to paying the full value for an item? Should we always negotiate for a better price, looking to save a little here so we can spend more later? In this week’s parsha, Avraham buys the cave of Machpela from Ephron. At first Ephron wants to give the plot of land as a gift to Avraham. Good deal right? When was the last time you said no to a free gift? Well Avraham said no. Not only did Avraham say no, he insisted on paying for its full value (and in cash no less). Why would Avraham do such a thing? Granted this was way before the iphone, and therefore he couldn’t quickly do an Amazon search to see if he could find a lower price, but still; why not haggle even just a little bit? When we buy an item of clothes or an electronic device, we know that there is a huge profit that the seller is making, and we wonder why we should pay so much for something that we know is worth less. Sometimes in life there are items which are worth having despite the cost associated with them. Items that we feel are worth paying for because we can identify with the inherent value that they have, and know that truth be told, they are really worth even more. This is especially true with items that aren’t only for ourselves, but for our family. While there may be deals and sales on iphones and dining room sets; there are no sales on Torah and mitzvahs. Lucky for us though, they come at a phenomenal price: great effort and dedication. I’m not going to stop looking for a good deal; but I’m not afraid to pay the price when I need to! |
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July 2019
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