ba'al teshuvah – The Tree of Life

Elul Preparation: Day 5

“Then shall the virgin rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old together; for I will turn their mourning into joy, and will comfort them, and make them rejoice from their sorrow.” – Jeremiah 31:13, JPS 1917 Tanach

When the Holy One forgives the sins of Israel, there will be cause to rejoice. The Bnei Yissacher explains that the “young” refers to the baalei teshuvah (penitents) who become like new after a complete teshuvah, returning to G-d in all their ways. The “old” refers to those who were righteous from their early years, and were able to maintain their righteousness with G-d’s grace. Both will be on the same level, so that the penitents will have the same status as those who had always been on the derech (path).

He notes that elsewhere it is mentioned how the righteous will praise their youthful years, in regard having had the opportunity to learn Yiddishkeit from an early age, preventing them from following a wayward path. Conversely, the baalei teshuvah will praise their latter years, because those years compelled then to atone for their youthful waywardness. As mentioned above, “the young and the old together” will rejoice, both those who praise their youth, and those who praise their latter years.

Referring back to the verse mentioned above, I would posit, that “the maiden” can be understood as a reference to K’lal Yisrael. The young and the old, may refer to all balei teshuvah, and those who followed the path of righteousness from the beginning of their years. So, that there is no distinction, between those who returned to G-d in their later years, and those who have always been on the derech. We will rejoice together at the Geulah when all of our sorrow will turn into joy (Psalm 126). Until then, we struggle in Olam HaZeh (This World), guarding ourselves against negative influences, and seeking reconciliation with G-d, especially during Elul.

*based on Bnei Yissacher: Elul 5

Gotta Be Me

“Judaism is a gift of G-d. It is not something that we inaugurate, not our attainment, but our inheritance, the accumulated experience of ages. It is to be acquired, not produced.” – Abraham Joshua Heschel, Moral Grandeur & Spiritual Audacity

On my own personal spiritual journey, it was as if G-d was calling me, drawing me closer to Him. The ideal understanding that reached my heart was from my own learning and personal endeavor to comprehend the faith of my heritage, by seeking G-d in a manner that appealed to my Jewish sensibilities.

I began my journey as a ba’al teshuvah, as an individual quest. Today, it continues to be an individual plight, despite my connection to community; in fact, I have never actually felt the need to be dependent upon community. While it is true that community is meant to enhance one’s personal devotion to G-d, there is a dynamic continuum between self and community, wherein friction sometimes results.

Yet, on certain occasions, community has the potential to enhance one’s experience beyond expectation, despite any differences. Case in point, this past Shabbos I remained at shul all day until after havdallah. Three hours of conversation with some friends followed an early minchah. After they left, I had a late seudah shlishi (third meal) in solitude in the social hall. This was truly enriching to me, like a blessing from Above. Half a dozen of us gathered for a quiet maariv, where I was able to daven with kavanah at my own pace – another blessing.

Then, followed havdallah with the same people who davened maariv. As soon as we finished, some chasidim showed up and conducted another havdallah. They sang my favorite tune; so, I joined in for a second havdallah. I believe that H’Shem has shown me, that despite my recent concerns, and existential religious crisis, the spiritual journey, like life, is often bittersweet. I am fortunate to have been able to transcend the bitterness, if only for that one Shabbos.

Shavuot Reflection 5782

To some extent, the nature of Judaism very well may appear to be a smorgasbord of various beliefs, practices, and minchagim (customs). Nowhere is this more clear to me, than at the shul (place of worship) that I frequent on Shabbos and yom tov, as well as other, holidays. Where I live, a lot of out of town Jewish visitors show up, especially for yom tov.

Inasmuch that I became an observant Jew in 2005, I took upon myself as a ba’al teshuvah, specific modes of yiddishkeit, based upon what I learned from others. Moreover, about twelve years later, I learned that my grandfather was a Chassidic rabbi. Thus, through my lineage, I am a Bolechover chasid, my ancestors on the paternal side of my family, being from Bolechov, Poland.

So, I prefer not to conform, nor model my sense of Yiddishkeit, roughly translated as “things Jewish,” after the type of Chassidism being promoted where I attend services.

To make matters more complicated for me, when observant Jews from out of town visit, any sense of “localness” dissipates into the mountain air, as the priorities of the visitors seem to supersede the local congregation. Case in point, when I facilitated the yizkor service on the second day of Shavuos, one of the visitors, who was holding the Torah, as required during the Yizkor (memorial) service, took it upon himself to start without me.

Mind you, I was standing on the bimah, in the middle of the sanctuary, and hadn’t yet even opened the Yizkor book. Instead of beginning the service anew, with an opening paragraph in English, I picked up where he left off, by abruptly reciting the same prayer in English that he had recited in Hebrew. This dueling for control of the service continued, whereas I was in a position that required assertion on the one hand, without offending the visitor on the other hand.

Was there a misunderstanding, whereas he felt responsibility for leading the service, because he was holding the Torah? To some extent, I showed deference to him, even though I was designated to lead the yizkor service, and had been doing so since the fall holidays. Yet, it seems at times that some visitors would like to run things according to their own ways, irrespective of showing respect to the place where they are visiting. Not that I mean to make a generalization; however, this does seem par for the course, based on various other observations I’ve made over the years.

I absolutely have no sense of belongingness where I attend shul, because if it ever had been about the local congregation, it no longer is. True, the local congregation dwindled significantly after the pandemic began to proliferate; so, there are a number of extenuating circumstances, that compel those in charge to focus on out of towners. Nor, do I have anything against out of town visitors, because I am always fascinated by the Chasidim from Borough Park and elsewhere that visit.

However, I feel as if I stand alone amidst K’lal Yisrael, in a variegated melting pot, that never truly coalesces. No sense of community, like I would ideally envision for a congregation. Not that any congregation would be ideal, anyway, especially, because I am somewhat unique in the values that I would emphasize as crucial to a communal sense of worship, and spiritual growth. Only H’Shem knows, what the future holds for me, or this congregation.