Nefesh Golf Day 24th November

 

Bring your golf gear, bring your friends and join us for a day of fun at Bonnie Doon Golf Course, Pagewood!

Price: $125 per person including breakfast and lunch
*Partners  and friends are welcome to  join us for a bite in the morning or at lunch (or both) – please see payment options below

Register your details below and make payment via paypal

Golf Day Options

1x Player game + meals $125.00 AUD 2x Players games + meals $250.00 AUD 3x Players games + meals $375.00 AUD 4x Players games + meals $500.00 AUD 5x Players games + meals $625.00 AUD B’fast + Lunch only $15.00 AUD B’fast only $10.00 AUD Lunch only $10.00 AUD

Question of the Week:

 

One thing I never understood in the Haggadah of Pesach. What’s so wise about the Wise Son? He asks his parents, “What are all the laws that our G-d has commanded you?” He seems no better than the Wicked Son, who is criticized for excluding himself and asking “What is this Pesach service to you?” – to you and not to him. Does the Wise Son not also say “commanded you” and not him, thus excluding himself?

 

Answer:

 

The Wise Son and the Wicked Son are not similar at all. They are opposites. The Wise Son asks a question. The Wicked Son isn’t asking, he is mocking. He doesn’t ask questions of his parents. He belittles them.

 

It isn’t his fault. He is a child of post-modern parents. Such parents don’t ever tell their children what to do. Instead of giving thier kids direction, they ask them questions.

 

“Do you want to go to bed now gorgeous?” 

 

“What would you like for lunch tomorrow princess?”

 

“Are you ready to stop poking your sister’s eye out cutey-pie?”

 

Parents who constantly ask their children questions and give them choices are putting their children into a position of authority that they are not ready for, while undermining their own authority. More than anything else, children need boundaries. They need to be lovingly told what is right and what is wrong, what is allowed and what is forbidden. These ethical lines have to be clear and unequivocal, set down with sensitivity but without room for debate.

 

But to give clear boundaries you have to be an authority figure, you have to carry moral weight in the eyes of your children. A parent who caves in to their kids’ desires and cowers to their demands, who consults their children’s opinion on everything and always gives them options, will never command the respect needed to lay down the law for their children. Kids of such parents see themselves as the know-it-alls, and their parents as silly old people who haven’t got a clue.

 

This is the wisdom of the Wise Child. He recognises that his parents are the source of wisdom, not he, and so he needs to ask them questions, not the other way around. He looks to his parents for guidance, he seeks their input and their point of view, knowing that when it comes to life skills, his youthful energy and idealism are no match for the experience and mature insight of the older generation.

 

A wise child doesn’t come from nowhere. He comes from wise parents. Ask your children too many questions and they will stop asking you any. Give your children clear direction, and they will become wise too.

 

All the best,

Rabbi Moss

 

Question of the Week: 

 

What is behind the Jewish custom to bury someone almost immediately after they pass away? Other religions wait a few days or sometimes weeks before laying their dead to rest, yet we seem in a hurry to get them buried, often within 24 hours of death. What is the rush?

 

Answer:

 

A speedy burial has benefits for the living and for the dead. And delaying a funeral unnecessarily is no good for either.

 

Between death and burial, the soul of the departed is in limbo between two worlds, neither fully on earth nor ready to be admitted into heaven. The soul no longer inhabits the body after death, but until the body is laid to rest, the soul cannot fully leave the body either. So it hovers around the body, in a state of disorientation at its sudden expulsion from the body that was its home for a lifetime.

 

Once the body returns to the dust from whence it came, the soul can return to heaven from whence it came. And so only after the burial does the soul begin its climb to higher realms. The soul’s onward journey can’t begin until the body is interred. We do not want to delay this process, so we hasten the funeral to the earliest opportunity.

 

This is not just for the good of the departed soul. It is also for the benefit of the mourners.

 

Just as the soul is in a state of confusion after death, so too the bereaved family go through a stage of uncertainty immediately after the death, as they grapple to absorb what has happened. For many who experience loss, it just doesn’t seem real. They feel that they are dreaming, that the person is about to walk in the door, as if nothing happened.

 

But reality hits at the funeral. That painful sound of dirt hitting the coffin evokes the raw pain of bereavement like nothing else can. It hurts, but it is needed. Just as the soul cannot start moving upwards before burial, so too the mourners cannot start their long journey from grief to consolation until the grave is filled in.

 

This pain cannot be avoided. Only after we have allowed ourselves to grieve can we allow ourselves to heal. Only when the finality of the body’s death is accepted, can the eternality of the soul be experienced. The body returns to dust, the soul returns to G-d.

 

All the best,

Rabbi Moss

Dave Asks: 

 

The problem with rabbis like you is your narrow view of the world. You always talk about the Jewish future, Jewish continuity, Jews marrying Jews, having Jewish children. What about the rest of humanity? Why do we have to always divide between people? Can’t we speak of humans rather than Jews?

 

 

Rabbi Moss answers: 

 

You have a good point. Maybe I should broaden my perspective and be concerned about more global issues and not so pre-occupied with Jewish particularism. So if you don’t mind, I would like to hear your point of view on one such issue.
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I have been approached by an organisation that is dedicated to saving endangered species. They are campaigning to save the hairy-nosed wombat of northern Queensland, which is on the verge of extinction, and if we don’t do something soon they will be gone.
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Do you think this is a good cause? I could write about it in my weekly article but am not sure if it is worthy of promotion. This is not a Jewish issue. Should it really bother us if there are no more hairy-nosed wombats?
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Dave replies:

 

Now you’re talking. I would love to see a rabbi promote conservation and eco-awareness. And it is a Jewish issue! If the hairy-nosed wombat is lost, we all lose. Every species is an integral part of the whole ecosystem.Â
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Rabbi Moss responds:

 

I have no doubt that the hairy-nosed wombat makes an important contribution to the world – otherwise G-d would not have created it. But I happen to think that the Jewish people are at least as worthy of preservation as the hairy-nosed wombat.

 

While the contribution wombats make to the world may not be obvious, the Jewish contribution is. From Moses to Maimonides to Marx, from Philo to Freud to Forbes, Jews as individuals and as a community have given much to the world, and I don’t think we have run out of ideas. I think we have more to give.

 

This is not to put down any other nation and their achievements. Just as the attempt to save the hairy-nosed wombat is not insulting to any other animal, so too the desire to continue the Jewish legacy of four thousand years in no way belittles the gifts of other people.

 

My work is to try to keep Jewish souls Jewish, because I believe Judaism is an idea that is yet to have its time, and you can’t have Judaism without Jews. So I will continue to try to preserve Jews, whether or not they are hairy-nosed.

 

All the best,

Rabbi Moss

Question of the Week:

 Why do we eat Hamantaschen on Purim? I have heard that they are the same shape as Haman’s hat. But Haman was the man who wanted to wipe us out. Why would we immortalise him by eating cookies that bear his name?

 Answer:

 This may be a cake of mistaken identity. These Purim cakes were originally called mohntaschen, which means ‘poppy seed pockets’. Today most hamantaschen are filled with jam, but poppy seed used to be the more popular filling. It was a short linguistic jump from mohntaschen to Hamantaschen, as people assumed there was a connection between the food eaten on Purim and the villain of the Purim story.

 The real reason for eating Hamantaschen is that they symbolise the very nature of the Purim miracle. If you read the story of Purim you notice that it was a string of seeming coincidences that saved the Jewish people from annihilation. There were no open miracles, no seas split, no plagues, just some twists and turns of history that, when viewed as separate events, seemed quite natural. Only at the end of the story was it revealed that a miracle had occured.

 Jews can always find a food to tell a story. In this case, it is the Hamantasch. The outside of the Hamantasch is just plain dough. The true flavour is concealed inside. Beneath the very ordinary veneer, the heart of the Hamantasch is bursting with sweetness.

 Our lives are much the same. At times it seems that we are being pushed and pulled by accidental forces. Things happen to us that seem haphazard and random, there seems to by no system in place, no direction to this cold and harsh universe. This is not true. There is a system. But it is hidden. Below the surface there is a sweet hand and a warm heart that directs the universe.

Rarely do we get to see this hand. Purim is one day when it was revealed, when a crack opened in the outer shell of nature and we glimpsed what lies beyond. Purim reminds us that all those coincidences are no coincidences, and nothing is random. We are still in the middle of our story, so it is hard to see the full picture. But in the end we will see that it’s all one big Hamantasch.

All the best,

Rabbi Moss

Question of the Week:
  

My girlfriend is Jewish. I am not. I just want to know what crime I have committed by being a non-Jew. All her friends and family are trying to convince her out of this relationship. I think I am a nice guy. What do they have against me?

Answer: 

Let me tell you a story that happened just last week.

My children were waiting to catch the school bus in the morning. But the bus never arrived. Apparently the bus driver missed a turn and didn’t go past my kids’ stop to pick them up. They are usually the last ones to get on the bus, but today he was going straight to school without them.

All the other school kids on the bus realised what was happening and started screaming at the bus driver. “You missed the turn! The Moss kids! You have to turn around! Go back and pick up the Moss kids!”

The driver, feeling somewhat helpless, called back to the busload of screaming Jewish kids, “I can’t turn back in this traffic. It will be an hour before we get to school. There’s nothing I can do.”

The school children were not satisfied. “But the Moss kids!” they shrieked. “You left them behind!”

One quick thinking girl pulled out her phone and frantically called her mother. “Mum, the bus made a wrong turn and missed the Moss kids. Call their parents to tell them!” And so she did, which is how I heard the story.

My wife and I later reflected on what a special little episode this was. That’s what it means to belong to a community. People know who you are, people care if you miss the bus. Within minutes of the wrong turn, we heard about it and were able to look after the situation. We felt very much cared for.

That bus represents the Jewish people. We are an extended family on a big bus of history that has been travelling along for four thousand years. And if a Jewish child might miss the bus, the whole nation starts screaming. We can’t allow even one Jewish soul to be lost to the Jewish family.

My friend, you have done nothing wrong, and no one has anything personal against you. But there are a lot of people out there who sincerely care for the future of the Jewish people. And for that future every soul counts. Your girlfriend is a part of a community that spreads over the globe, she is the next link in a chain that spans generations. We can’t just stand by and let her miss the bus.

Ever since that incident, the bus driver has been extra careful to make the right turn and never leave behind a Jewish child. He had better. He is driving bus number 613.

All the best,
Rabbi Moss

Note: 613 is the exact number of commandments in the Torah, the portable Jewish homeland, our national bus

Question: 

 

Dear Rabbi Moss,

Although I was raised in a traditional home, was brissed and barmitzvad (sorry about these spellings) I have never had any faith or “religious” belief. I am now aged 34, and would describe myself as an atheist. I have no wish to be buried in a Jewish cemetery (and my Will has also made this clear) and have married a non-Jew in a civil ceremony.

My question is, can I consider myself officially non-Jewish, by my effective opting-out, or do I need some sort of form or dispensation to be officially no longer Jewish?

Many thanks for your help with what is perhaps an unusual question.

Best wishes,

Edward. 

Answer:

 

Dear Edward,

 

I would like to help you, but I feel there’s nothing I can do.

 

According to your question, you have done everything possible to negate your Jewishness: in practice you do not keep Jewish tradition; in belief you are an atheist; in family life you have married a non-Jew and thus won’t have Jewish children; and even in death you are determined not to be buried in a Jewish cemetery.

 

One would think that all this would be enough to confirm your un-Jewishness.

 

But no.

 

For some reason, you are still unsatisfied: you still feel Jewish. So much so, you feel you need official dispensation.

And so, being an atheist, to whom do you turn to solve this problem? A doctor? A psychiatrist? The civil celebrant that married you? No…….You turn to a rabbi!!!

 

I’m reminded of the child who ran away from home, but ended up just going round and round the block because his parents told him never to cross the road by himself.

 

I’m sorry, Edward. There is nothing more you can do. You are as Jewish as Moses, Woody Allen and the Chief Rabbi of Wales. And you always will be. There is nothing you can do to change it.

 

In fact, it seems that being Jewish is the most dominant facet of your personality. It is even influencing the place you want to be buried. (Why would an atheist care about where they are buried?)

 

Edward, Jewishness is not a belief, a feeling, a conviction or a lifestyle. It is a state of being. You have a beautiful Jewish soul. You can either celebrate it or fight against it. But it will always be there. So why not celebrate it?

 

All the best,

Rabbi Moss

Question:

My Jewishness is making it harder for me to find love. The more I get involved in Jewish life, the less options I have for girls to date. To be honest, it is making me hesitate before becoming more observant. What should I do, take on more Judaism and limit my options, or keep my options open and put the Jewish thing on hold?

Answer:

It depends what you are looking for. If you are just after a partner, any partner that suits, then it is a simple numbers game, and the more options in front of you the better chances you have. If you have a wider pool of potential partners, the odds are higher that you will be successful in your search. In this equation, the vaguer you are about yourself, the more potential partners you will find.

But that’s only if you are merely looking for a partner. If you are looking for your soulmate it’s another story entirely.

Your soulmate is the other half of your soul, the missing part of your very being. You can only recognise your soulmate if you first get to know your own soul. When you know where you are going in life, when you are clear on your own identity, when you know who you really are, then and only then are you equipped to identify the other half of your soul.

Some people have it backwards. They think that when it comes to describing whom you’re looking for, you need a long and detailed list of specifications, but when it comes to describing who you are, you are better off being blurry and general. The opposite is true. Know yourself and your own soul. Explore your Jewish identity and become comfortable with it. You are not limiting your options, you are refining your search.

Question:

My grandmother always told me not to walk around the house in just socks and no shoes. Is there anything to this or is it a bubbemaise superstition?

Answer:

There is no law that forbids you to walk around in socks. But our sages teach us to never ignore the sayings of our grandmothers, for there is always some wisdom in them. Indeed, your grandmother’s aversion to shoelessness does have some basis.

Jewish law states that one who is mourning the loss of a loved one removes their shoes. Thus walking around in socks makes you look like a mourner, and we don’t even want to look like a mourner. This is part of a general Jewish attitude to death. We don’t like it. We do whatever we can to stay away from it.

There are many Jewish customs that stem from the desire to avoid anything associated with death. Some people don’t sleep with their feet facing the door, because that is how a corpse lies before burial. We don’t speak about what will happen when someone dies, but rather what will happen “after 120 years.” We wash our hands after attending a funeral, to rid ourselves of the impurity of the cemetery.

This dislike of death is not so much a superstition as an allergy. Our tradition trains us to love life and be allergic to death. Unlike some traditions that venerate death as an ideal and view life as a wretched curse, the Jewish tradition cherishes life as a blessing. Through customs that distance us from death and its trappings, the Jewish people has inculcated a worldview that is life-affirming and this-world focused.

Your grandmother had a point. Death is a part of life. But it need not be given any more space than necessary. Keep your shoes on.

All the best,

Rabbi Moss.

A lively Shabbos service filled with song and inspiration. Easy to follow and welcoming atmosphere. Followed by Kiddush.  6:30pm to 7:15pm every week. at Nefesh, 54 Roscoe St Bondi Beach

(Mincha – summertime 6:10pm, wintertime ten mins after candlelighting)