Celebrate the giving of the Torah at our all night learning program.

Come for part or come for the whole night, there will be plenty of coffee and cake and inspiration

First night Shavuos, Saturday May 27 at Nefesh, 54 Roscoe St Bondi Beach

PROGRAM:
9pm – 9:50pm The Secrets of Numerology with R’ Aaron Amzalak

10pm – 10:50pm 40 Day Radical Diet – why Moses not eating was a big deal with Rabbi Moss

11pm – 12:20pm Debate: A Chazan is a Waste of Time – let’s cut out the singing in shul and get on with it!

12:30am – 1:20am From Sinai to Canberra – the role of religion in a democratic state, including a discussion on changing the marriage legislation with Rabbi Moshe Gutnick

1:30am – 2:30am Zohar study session – a taste of real Kabbalah from the source

2:30am – 3:30am Do the Dead Hear Us? A Talmudic textual study

3:30am – 4am Ask the rabbi – any question, maybe an answer

4am – 5am Short speeches from community members (more volunteers needed)

Question of the Week:

I know this sounds petty but I can’t stand making lunches for my kids. Every night I am just about to fall into bed exhausted, and just then I remember that I need to make sandwiches. I still do it, but I can’t say I do it with love. I guess I feel that much of my life is taken up with mundane things like packing lunchboxes. Must I resign to that fact that my life has boiled down to making tuna sandwiches?

Answer:

Making tuna sandwiches is far from mundane. It is a holy activity. With every lunchbox you pack you are performing a sacred duty, one that dates back to the times of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem.

In ancient Israel, the Temple in Jerusalem was the focus of Jewish spiritual life. It was the home of G-d in which the cohanim, the priests, and their assistants the Levites brought sacrifices, burnt incense and spent their days meditating and singing to G-d.

This priestly tribe lived a life completely dedicated to spirituality. They did not have jobs, did not own property, but rather devoted themselves to studying G-d’s laws and singing His praises. They represented the entire Jewish people before G-d, and through their service they brought down divine blessing for the entire world. To do this, they had to be well educated in matters of the spirit and totally focused on their mission.

But they had to eat. You can’t study and pray for the world all day on an empty stomach. And so the rest of the Israelite nation would provide the material needs of the priestly tribe. People would bring offerings of food and donations of money to the Temple to support the cohanim. It was a reciprocal relationship. In return for the holy service the cohanim provided, their every need was looked after, and they were free to completely focus on their spiritual tasks without having to worry about paying the bills or doing the shopping. The priests brought G-d’s blessing to the people. The people brought them lunch.

Today we no longer have the Holy Temple, and so we do not have the service of the cohanim to bring us blessing. But we have a substitute – our precious children. They are our holy priests, innocent and pure souls who go to school every day, say their prayers and study the Torah without a worry in the world. When children sing their songs and learn the Hebrew letters, their voices reach the highest heavens, just as the service of the cohanim in the Temple used to do in the days of old. And when G-d hears their voices, so pure and sweet, He showers us with blessings and love.

But if children are the priests serving G-d, parents are the supporters providing their needs. When you make tuna sandwiches, you are ensuring that your little cohen will have the sustenance he needs to do his work. When you stretch yourself to pay the school fees and ensure your child has an authentic Jewish education, you are donating toward the upkeep of the Temple, the safe and pure sanctuary in which your child’s soul can thrive. And when you give up on luxuries and personal ambitions to be able to support your child’s education, you have brought a true sacrifice on G-d’s altar.

So next time you mash the mayonnaise into the tuna and wrap up the sandwiches for your holy little priests, remember that you are fulfilling a sacred task, providing their needs so they can learn carefree. As much as you are giving them, they are giving you back far more.

Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Moss

Question of the Week:

I saw you copped a beating from Shmuley Boteach in the Huffington Post this week. He totally trashed your article “Why Does G-d Create Handicapped Babies?” where you say that they are special souls who remain pure from sin in this world. He says we can’t explain suffering and we shouldn’t try. What is your response to that?

Answer:

Shmuley makes some very good points in his article. Whether or not the explanation I offered is helpful to those who have severe disabilities and their parents is a question neither I nor Shmuley Boteach can answer. Only they themselves know what it is like, and only they can comment. So below I present the feedback I received from those who have firsthand experience with disabilities. Let their words from the heart speak for themselves.

But I think Shmuley failed to understand an important principle.
There is a big difference between explaining why people suffer, and giving meaning to suffering. To explain why people suffer is to justify the existence of suffering. If we can explain it then we can tolerate it. That is wrong. We would rather a world without suffering, and we can never understand why G-d in His omnipotence couldn’t create the world in such a way. Surely whatever benefit suffering brings could be achieved without suffering. Why we have to suffer is an unanswerable question.

But finding meaning in suffering is the attempt to give it purpose. After the fact, now that suffering does exist, we have to try to find meaning in that suffering. We need to learn something from it. This does not justify its existence, but at least it gives us something to focus on as we grapple with it.

To explain suffering is G-d’s responsibility. To find meaning in it is our responsibility.

The idea that a physically limited body indicates a higher soul is not mine. It was taught by the great 16th century sage and chief rabbi of Prague, the Maharal. In his work Gevuros Hashem (chapter 28) he explains that the body is a casing that covers and limits the soul. However, when the body does not function correctly, while that may be described as a physical disability, for the soul it is an advantage. A less than functioning body is less of a covering for the soul, and allows it more freedom. Taking this idea further, the holy Baal Shem Tov, founder of the Chassidic movement, explicitly identified the severely handicapped as being pure souls who were being protected from the evils of this world. The Lubavitcher Rebbe once told a roomful of athletes from the Paralympics that they should not be called disabled, but rather gifted. And then there were rabbis such as the Chazon Ish and the Steipler Gaon who stood up in honour of special children as they entered the room.

These sages were not being patronizing, and they were not defending G-d. From their deeper perspective they saw in front of them fragile bodies housing powerful souls. Is this perspective helpful to those who actually experience disability firsthand? I can only share what those people have told me. Here are their unedited responses:

Yes but… as beautiful as you may think it is I would give anything to have a healthy child. Having a child with special needs can destroy the closest family. There’s nothing wonderful about not being ever able to go on a family trip. There’s nothing great about being put in very uncomfortable situations in public. We love our child but.. G-d I still feel I need You to clear some things up.
Posted By Dolly, Brooklyn, ny

I feel confident that I can speak with a certain authority on this topic as I am an adoptive father of 7 wonder children all born with special needs (some more severe than others).
I have a child that will most likely never walk or talk. So to the woman who posted named “Dolly from Brooklyn”. I understand what you are dealing with.
I feel strongly that ALL souls are created in the image of the divine and feel it a wonderful priviledge to have been blessed with the joy that has come with parenting these children.
People tell us all the time that we will be rewarded for giving these children a home. But my feeling is that they in and of themselves are the reward. I thank G-d everyday for having these children in my life.
I would not trade a thing. With G-d’s help we will be led to another child that needs a frum home.
Posted By Yermiyahu

Thank you very much, for this answered question I had in my heart. I have a downsyndrom little girl. This has blessed me like you can not imagine.
thank you. Mr. Moss
Posted By Anonymous

As the mother of a nearly 27 year old with cerebral palsy, I applaud Rabbi Moss for his answer. However there is more than just pure love, these children are sent as a blessing to the families in which they dwell. They are sent as teachers, not all of them die young, many live out a normal life span. Handicaps are only as severe as we allow them to be, having faith that G-d will help your child and doing everything you can to allow your child to be his or her best – will not only allow the parent to fully love and appreciate their child’s uniqueness, but also teach the parent patience and teach them the ability to celebrate the smaller things in life.
Erma Bombeck wrote a column on how G-d chooses mothers…it’s insightful, nuturing and thought provoking. Though I was afraid at first, I feel honored that G-d chose me to have a child who has challenged me to be a better mother, he is my firstborn blessing (there are 2 bio and 2 adopted siblings after him).
Posted By Michele Shapiro, Apple Valley, MN

I am the mother of a 16 year old with Down syndrome. She is legally deaf and has severe scoliosis. Whoever wrote this response has the Wisdom of Solomon because it completely captures what my heart tells me about my precious child.
I have never looked at her and felt pity or anguish or sadness, just gratitude. I’m so thankful G-d favored me as her mother. I can’t look at her without seeing a perfect, precious soul. And if having such intimate contact with a perfect soul means a bit of inconvenience (and I really don’t see anything as inconvenient) then so be it. I’ll take it! We also have a beautiful little granddaughter (1 year) who was also born with Down syndrome. When she was born, (her parents’ first child) rather than cry or grieve or display shock or anguish; they thought of my daughter – their baby’s aunt and what joy she has brought into our lives and they turned to the doctor and almost in the same breath said “Baruch Hashem”!
Posted By Leah, Meridian, Idaho

I love what I just read. I am my self disabled, I thank hashem every day that gave me family and firends that love. I prey to Hashem to whatch over children of Isreal and my biggest wish is that Moshich comes.
Posted By alexnader Isakov, Phoenix, Arizona

we are the parents of twin boys (only one of whom has down syndrome) 18 months old. I believe that God gave us BOTH OF THEM as a gift to learn from and the joy I find in my Jacob (the one with downs) is just so aptly put by the rabbi as pure…. just as my other son’s smile. I guess it makes me wonder what is truly worth calling “important”. I love them both but this explanation is truly beautiful. We can only hope to live up to the great responsibility that hashem has placed on us. I was injured on the job seriously about 2 months after their birth, but the flip side is that God has let me see them develop and beat the odds that the doctors gave our jacob at the hospital. By the way, the doctor I hold responsible for my Jacobs recovery in the hospital last year was Muslim.
Posted By brian cooper, Meriden, c.t

my little brother is severely autistic and developmentally delayed… we adopted him when he was 5 years old and he is the best thing that ever happened to our family… i cried when i read this article because even though i think he is perfect the way he is sometimes it still makes me sad that he will never do so many things. the rabbi is right, people always want to judge people on what they can do for us. but sometimes G-d doesnt give people to us for what they can do for us, but for what we can do for them… we should be honoured that G-d would even entrust such a soul to our care
Posted By rachel

This article really touched me. I, myself, was actually born what I would consider severely disabled. Some of my struggles are a musculoskeletal disease, being confined to a wheelchair, having a weak body, having speech impediment, and having severe breathing issues, which greatly effect my quality of life. My whole life has been a blur of hospitals, doctors, operations, and the heartache of having to accept a completely different life than the average. I’ve wondered why God would allow some people to be disabled and be born to suffer for their whole lives while others get to live their life sometimes without much of a care in the world.
This was definitely very creative with the reasoning and just absolutely beautiful. I have such a hard time seeing the good in things, but this really actually had logic to it and touched my heart.
Posted By Alisha, Albemarle

I have a lovely down Syndrome boy of 21, and I am VERY sensitive to cliches or superficial stuff – and this was SO true.
Posted by anonymous

I was born with a severe disability, which is life long and causes me immense pain. This however is normal to me. The advantage is that I can automatically identify suffering in others and assisting others makes me happy.
I do not see my life as tragic. I have purpose.
Posted By Anonymous, Leeds, UK

i gave birth to my gorgeous little boy in march of 1998, he was born severly disabled, and is the light of my life, life is hard at times, but I would not change my life for anything in this world, my son cannot talk and shows me so much love in other ways. I was given my son for a reason, considering I was told I could not ever have children…
Posted By maria mayo, Gloucester, Gloucestershire

I can only stand in awe of these people. I can’t explain why they had to face these challenges. But I can thank them for showing me that limitations of the body can’t hold down the power of the soul.

Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Moss

Question of the Week:

I am struggling with a lot of things in life really. Work, dating, you know the drill. Sometimes I get really depressed due to my shortcomings. They say everyone has something they’re good at doing but I’m still trying to find out what mine is. It’s tough when you don’t view yourself in a very positive light. Everyone I know is super-successful, and I still can’t get anything off the ground. You are born with certain abilities and those abilities will strongly dictate where you will end up in life. I sometimes think I am just a big failure. Sorry for the rant but I just wanted to get it off my chest and would love to hear your response if there’s anything to even respond to…

Answer:

You make me think of a story. A rabbi was called to a hospital to see a Jewish teenager who was suicidal. He had attempted to take his own life, feeling that he was a good for nothing who could not get anything right. Even his suicide attempt had failed. The hospital staff, seeing he was Jewish, called a local rabbi to come and try to lift the boy’s dejected spirits.

So the rabbi arrived at the hospital not knowing what to expect. He found the boy lying in bed watching TV, a face of utter misery, black clouds of despair hanging over his head. The boy hardly looked up to the rabbi, and before he could even say hello the boy said, “If you are here to tell me what the priest just told me, you can leave now.”

Slightly taken aback, the rabbi asked, “What did the priest say?”

“He told me that G-d loves me. That is a load of garbage. Why would G-d love me?”

It was a good point. This kid could see nothing about himself that was worthy of love. He had achieved nothing in his life, he had no redeeming features, nothing that was beautiful or respectable or lovable. So why would G-d love him?

The rabbi needed to touch this boy without patronising him. He had to say something real. But what do you say to someone who sees themselves as worthless?

“You may be right,” said the rabbi. “Maybe G-d doesn’t love you.”

This got the boy’s attention. He wasn’t expecting that from a rabbi.

“Maybe G-d doesn’t love you. But one thing’s for sure. He needs you.”

This surprised the boy. He hadn’t heard that before. The very fact that you were born means that G-d needs you. He had plenty of people before you, He added you to the world population because there is something you can do that no one else can do. And if you haven’t done it yet, that makes it more important to live and do and give to the world a gift that only you can.

To say G-d loves you means you can look at yourself and be satisfied, feel good. But to say G-d needs you means you can’t be satisfied, because you have work to do, you have a mission, G-d has put you here for a reason.

If I can look at all my achievements and be proud, I can believe G-d loves me. What if I haven’t achieved anything? What if I don’t have any accomplishments under my belt to be proud of?

Well, stop looking at yourself and look around you. Stop thinking about yourself and start thinking of others. You are here because G-d needs you, he needs you to do something.

My friend, you and I know that happiness does not come from earning a big salary. Happiness comes from serving others, from living life with meaning. I am convinced that all you need to do is focus outward, not inward, not on what you need but what you are needed for, and in finding what you can do for others, you will find yourself.

Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Moss

(The rabbi in the story was Rabbi Manis Friedman)

Question of the Week:

Ever since the death of my brother seven years ago, I have been grappling with the concept of the soul. I wish I could believe in it. I am the type that needs rational arguments to convince me, and it seems the soul is too abstract for my mind. I know these things can’t be scientifically proven, but do I have to resort to blind faith to believe in the soul?

Answer:

The pain of losing a loved one is so deep because it is so final. You can never replace a person whom you have lost.

But what if you could?

Imagine it were possible to clone your late brother. A genetically identical replica could be created who talks, thinks, looks and smells precisely the same as the person you grew up with. Furthermore, what if science developed a way to preserve and replicate memory. They could take your late brother’s memories and insert them into his clone. You could sit with your newly recreated brother and reminisce about childhood experiences, laugh at the good old days, and share a bond that only brothers can.

Would you opt for this? Would you be satisfied with an exact copy of your brother? Would his death be reversed when you met his clone? Would it end your pain?

I can’t imagine the answer could be yes. I can’t imagine anyone would truly believe that a clone could replace a brother or sister, son or daughter, parent or spouse or best friend.

But why not? Why would a refurbished model be any different from the original?

Because something is missing. This is not your brother. He may have your brother’s voice and your brother’s expressions, your brother’s manner and mind and memory, but he doesn’t have your brother’s soul.

It just isn’t him.

That’s what soul is. It is what makes you you. It is the fragment of G-d that makes each one of us unique. Above your body, beyond your personality, transcending genetics and even deeper than memory is the core of your being, the ineffable essence that is you. We call this your soul. It is soul that makes each person irreplaceable. And it is your brother’s soul that you miss.

You don’t need scientific proof of the soul, neither do you need blind faith. You know it to exist just as you know your own existence. You can choose to ignore it or to live deeper with it. Sometimes you can even feel it. And at those moments when you feel your soul, you will feel your brother’s soul too.

Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Moss

Question of the Week:

Why did the Israelites have to pass through the Red Sea? On my map of the Middle East, the route from Egypt to Israel is directly through the desert. The sea is totally out of the way. G-d led them on a detour, trapping them between the sea and the chasing Egyptians, and then split the sea. Does G-d have no sense of direction?

Answer:

The Israelites passing through the Red Sea was not a geographical necessity, but a spiritual one. At the Red Sea, we were shown the power of the human soul.

The earth is comprised of oceans and continents, sea and dry land. The difference between the two is that on dry land, all is open and visible. The trees, animals, mountains and people that occupy it are all easily recognisable. The sea on the other hand is a big blue expanse of mystery. Though the sea is teeming with life, when you look at it you can identify nothing, all is hidden beneath the surface.

So it is with a person. Our personality has two layers: our sea, and our land. What we know of ourselves, our visible strengths, our tested talents and our known abilities, the elements of our character that we are aware of, these comprise the dry land of our personality. But below the surface of our character lies a vast sea of latent talents, inner strengths and untapped abilities that we never knew we had. In the depth of our soul lies a reserve of dormant energy waiting to be discovered. This is our sea, and even we ourselves are unaware of what lies there.

How can we access this reservoir of potential? How can our sea become dry land? There is only one way. And we know it from the encounter at the Red Sea.

The Israelites had their back to the wall: Egyptians closing in on one side, a raging sea threatening on the other. They had only two options, despair or faith. Logic and reason demanded that they give in. There was no possible way out of their predicament. But faith demanded that they keep marching to the Promised Land. Sea or no sea, this is the path that G-d has led us, so we have to have faith and march on. And so they did.

It was at that moment, when hopelessness was countered by faith, that the impossible happened, and the sea opened up to become dry land. The most formidable obstacle dissolved into nothingness, without a struggle, just with faith. The people became empowered exactly when they acknowledged G-d as the only true power. By surrendering themselves to a higher force, they discovered the force within them. They split their own sea.

The Jewish people are no strangers to times of challenge. At the very birth of our nation, we needed to learn how to face these challenges. So G-d took us on a detour to the sea and opened it up for us. He was telling every Jew for all times:

Obstacles are not interruptions to the journey, they are the journey. Keep marching towards the Promised Land. Every challenge along the way will give you deeper insight and renewed power. Just have faith. It will split your sea.

Good Shabbos and Good Yomtov,
Rabbi Moss

Question of the Week:

Why do we respond so harshly to the wicked son in the Haggadah? He may be a rebel, but why should we “loosen his teeth”? Does he really deserve a punch in the face?

Answer:

The Haggadah is one of the most profound texts of Judaism. Nothing in it should be taken lightly. Here too, the Haggadah has a powerful message on how to view wicked children, young or old.

Every person has a soul, and that soul is pure. Sadly, that pure soul can sometimes accumulate layers of baggage that conceal its goodness, through years of neglect, or bad experiences, or wrong education, or negative influences. It can even reach a point where the soul’s fire seems all but extinguished.

But no soul is never a lost case. Every Jew is a child of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the holy patriarchs. This chain cannot be broken. No matter how far a Jew has strayed from Judaism, no matter how many layers of cynicism or ignorance covers a Jewish soul, they are still a part of the family. Scratch away the surface and the Jewishness shines through.
This is the secret behind the Haggadah’s response to the wicked child.

The name for a wicked person in Hebrew is רשע, spelled with the three Hebrew letters Reish, Shin and Ayin. The outer letters, Reish and Ayin, together spell רע, which means evil. For wickedness is no more than an outer shell, an external layer that is peripheral to our true inner being.

The middle letter, Shin, represents the deepest core of the wicked son’s personality. The letter Shin, ש, is made up of three lines, representing the three patriarchs Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. At his core, even the wicked son is connected to the Jewish family. In the depths of his soul, he just wants to come home to his people. His Shin is intact.

When the Haggadah says “loosen his teeth,” it really means “bring out his Jewish soul.” The Hebrew term “his teeth” שניוcan be translated “his letter Shin.” Loosen the Shin from the Reish and Ayin. When we meet such a rebellious child, when we come across a Jew who is antagonistic to his Judaism, remember that it is no more than a façade. The evil is a front. Inside is a wholesome and sacred Shin.

His connection to the Jewish people is unbreakable. All you need to do is tease out the inner soul, allow its light to break through the evil shell that covers it, loosen his Shin and you will see in front of you not a wicked cynic but a glowing and bright soul.

Good Shabbos and Good Yomtov, a happy and kosher Pesach,

Rabbi Moss

Question of the Week:

I am confused about the maror, the bitter herbs eaten at the Seder. I always thought you are supposed to use horseradish. But then I heard that we should use cos (or romaine) lettuce leaves, with a spoonful of fresh horseradish. I eat lettuce with my salad all year round, and it is not bitter. If anything it is quite sweet tasting. So why eat lettuce to commemorate the bitterness of Egyptian slavery?

Answer:

Your sweet lettuce is a sneaky little vegetable. Its nature very closely parallels the Egyptian slavery experience.

Indeed, lettuce has a gentle and pleasant taste. That is because we pick it when it is young. But leave the lettuce stalk in the ground for a bit longer, and it turns bitter and pungent. What starts off sweet turns sour in the end.

This was the exact course of events in Egypt. When the Israelites first arrived, they were warmly welcomed and made to feel at home. Pharaoh invited them to assimilate into Egyptian culture and society, to participate in the economy and become fully-fledged citizens.
The trusting Israelites accepted his offer with relish (another reason we eat horseradish). They felt honoured to be accepted by such an illustrious nation as Egypt. And this was their downfall. They had been duped. The friendliness was a façade. Once Pharaoh had seduced the Israelites into a false sense of security, he could easily manipulate them. Before long, the welcome turned bitter, and the Israelites were enslaved. Like the lettuce stalk, it all seems sweet at first, but given some time it turns bitter.

So at the Seder we eat lettuce. Not the mature and embittered type, but rather lettuce that is still tasty and sweet. Because the sweet lettuce is the bitterest of them all.

The Egyptian slavery did not start when the Egyptians turned on the Israelites. It began when the Israelites felt comfortable in Egypt. That country, the superpower of its day, was renowned for its low moral standards. When the Israelites became impressed by Egypt’s grandeur and lured by its sweet welcome, they lost something of themselves. When they took pride in the attention they received from a tyrant, they lost their freedom.

The same is true to this day. When as Jews we measure our self-worth by how much our neighbours accept us, when we fawn for the approval of those whom we deem more powerful than us, when we shape our identity to conform with what others expect of us, we have sold our souls into slavery.

We eat lettuce to remind us that not all that tastes sweet is indeed sweet. A bitter herb, no matter how sugar-coated, is still a bitter herb. There’s nothing as bitter as selling your soul to be accepted, and there’s nothing as sweet as the freedom to be yourself.

Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Moss

Question of the Week:

Here’s one we argue over every year at our Seder: Why do we spill the wine when we mention the Ten Plagues on Pesach night, and what are we supposed to do with the spilt wine?

Answer:

Every Jewish ceremony is said over a cup of wine. A wedding, a bris, the welcoming in and ushering out of Shabbos and festivals, and most notably the Seder on Pesach, are all said over a full cup of wine which we then drink down.

Why is this? Can’t we recite prayers and stay dry? Why do we seem to drink at every opportunity?

There is a power to saying a prayer over a cup. It allows us to drink in the moment. Instead of just saying words out into the open air, we recite our blessings over a cup, the cup absorbs the words, and then we drink it down. We imbibe the holiness.

Under the chuppah, the bride and groom drink from the cup of wine, so the blessings that consecrated their marriage should be internalized and captured. At a bris, the baby himself is given a drop from the wine that has absorbed the prayers, so the holy words should become a part of his being. On each holyday we drink in the messages of the festival, to take along with us when the festival is over.

At the Seder on Pesach night, we retell the story of our ancestors who were slaves in Egypt, and sing songs of thanks to G-d who freed them. As we recount this tale, a cup of wine stands at attention, soaking in every word, absorbing every message, capturing every song. This is so at the end of the story, we can drink down the cup and ingest the moment. We don’t just read the Haggadah, we imbibe it, we take it with us. We drink in the freedom, we ingest the miracle. The story of faith and freedom becomes a part of our inner reality.

However there are some words we don’t want to ingest. The Ten Plagues, describing the affliction of the Egyptians, represent negative energy that we would rather not bring into our system. So after reading each plague we spill wine from the cup, banishing the forces of punishment and its curses, and leaving the cup with only blessings. The spilt wine should then be discarded, for drinking it would be drinking in the plagues.

Words have impact. Our surroundings absorb our words. Be careful what you say, and be even more careful what you imbibe.

Leave the plagues to wicked oppressors. We should only have blessings.

I’ll drink to that.

Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Moss

Question of the Week:

From Bluma ( age 8 )

It says in the Ten Commandments “Do not be jealous.” Does that mean that if I see my friend wearing a dress that I really like, I can’t be jealous and want the same dress, even if I don’t say anything to my friend?

Answer:
We are all jealous. It is impossible not to be. As long as we are human, we see what others have and wish we could have it too. But that isn’t always bad. There are three types of jealousy. Wicked jealousy, dangerous jealousy, and good jealousy.

If you want your friend’s dress and you don’t want her to have it, that is wicked. Why should it bother you that your friend owns something nice? Even if you want the same thing, you should be happy for her that she has it. To want it instead of her is plain mean.

So let’s say you don’t mind that she has her dress, just you want one too. Is that ok? Well, it’s not wicked, but be careful. When you focus too much on what other’s have, it leads to being unhappy with what you have. Instead of being satisfied with all the good G-d has given you, you always want more. This has no end. Eventually you’ll have bad feelings toward your friends when you can’t have it all. So this type of jealousy is not wicked, but dangerous.

But then there is a jealousy that is good. That is being jealous of someone else’s good deeds or fine character. When you see a friend who is kind, generous, forgiving, disciplined or trustworthy, and you say “I wish I were like that,” this is good jealousy. In fact, this is why we have jealousy in our nature. It can make us want to be a better person.

The Talmud teaches, “The world cannot exist without jealousy.” Without it we would have no drive to become anything. It just depends how you use it. Be jealous, but for the right things. Your friend’s dress will one day go out of fashion. Goodness never will.

Thanks for a great question. I wish I asked such good questions when I was eight years old. I am glad you are my daughter. Otherwise, I’d be jealous.

Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Moss