Death and a Wedding

Yesterday, the corner of Kingston and Eastern Parkway was the scene of a life’s tragic end. A young Jewish man’s sudden death was witnessed by bystanders, who came out of the subway station screaming. The police and ambulance were called and sirens flooded the streets. Shomrim arrived, with their faces white, and soon after, Hatzalah and Zaka, to collect the body for burial.

Upstairs in my museum office, I head the sirens like I always do, not bothering to look outside. When a phone call alerted me to look outside, I saw the flashing lights and crowds surrounding the subway station stairs. I ran downstairs.

From all sides of the street, fellow Jews saw the crowds of skirts and black hats and drew near. First, there was shock, then confusion, followed by an intense sadness that lingered in the air for hours. Pacing back and forth and waiting for details - for a name - bystanders stood frozen in time.

People stepped aside when, finally, the body was lifted from underneath the ground. Everything around me rhymed with pain. I stood still while my insides shook. And just then, when the pain had reached its raw peak, a beautiful melody was heard.

The Alter Rebbe’s niggun.

Right there, a mere few steps away from death and unbearable pain, a wedding was underway in front of 770. Mocking our chaotic hearts and minds, the tune was a symbol of life, of joy, of a future. At first piercing the throbbing pain, the Chuppah song slowly became intermingled with the sorrow spreading all over the street corner.

Tears of sadness erupting aside tears of joy.

Mazel Tov!

Baruch Dayan HaEmes.

The crowd from the subway meshed with the crowd from the Chuppah. Suddenly, the line between life and death was very blurry. Suddenly, happiness knew no limit, and sadness was eternal – all at the same time.

I felt like I was going to explode.

-----

At that very moment, G-d was both a dear friend, and a bitter enemy.

You want the whole world to stop and recognize the loss, but weddings will go on. Babies will be born. Cake will be served at the birthday party.

And when all you want is to experience unbridled joy, lives will be destroyed. Fires will consume. Lives will end.

What does G-d want from us?

There’s no way a human is designed to balance these opposite poles.

But G-d conducts a world where both pain and happiness are ever pressing realities, forcing us to respond to fortune and catastrophe all at once. And it’s striking, that, even when G-d stops the world from turning, it is speeding forward at the same time.

-----

G-d, you stretch out your hand, yes you do.

You do it to strike and you do it to heal.

Yes, you are the ultimate giver.

But you give tears just like you give smiles.

You create fire, and you make it both to consume and to warm.

G-d, please reveal the fusion, the interconnectedness. Where is the beauty in the breakdown? I want to see it, but how can I? What do you expect, G-d? You weigh us down with bricks, and expect us to play hide and seek? You smash us with your hands, and demand us to rise. You burn our core, and request we feel light. You mark frowns and creased brows, but wait for our smiles.

And sometimes I feel like I just don’t know you.

But, one thing is certain. When you are my enemy, you allow it. You never cease to validate our pain. And more than that, you still let us use your shoulder to cry on. After being screamed at, you still hosts our tears. You are behind it all. When we want to escape you, you are there. When we want to embrace you, you are there. And there's no greater harmony than that.

While we may often struggle with the placement of our reactions and emotions, let us pray that our happiness is always more demanding than our pain. May feelings of true growth and gain be more potent than feelings of loss, and may G-d draw near a time when all sorrow will permanently vanish in the face of our joy.

Two Minutes

On the way.

Niggunim are playing.

The vintage tape is unclear, but the Rebbe's voice is strong. Relevant. Urgent.

Out my window, the Jewish faces zoom by.

We have begun the march.

We're on our way.

There's a lot of traffic for 10 pm.

"Are they going to the Ohel?"

"Don't think so. They're black."

"Ya, you'd be surprised."

The Rebbe was everyone's Rebbe.

We are quite the flock.

Parking.

I'm trying to prepare.

I'm thinking, "Who is the Rebbe? What is this all about?"

I'm thinking, "Who am I? What am I all about?"

In line.

So it's not just me.

We all want to be Chassidim.

The men. The women. The young. The old. The bearded. The shaven. The skirt. The pants. No one's claiming rights here. G-d wants us all, and the Rebbe proved it.

I watch the policemen.

While they see a graveyard, we see life.

Crazy crazy Jews.

I write my letter.

My heart spills in black ink.

From, Miriam bas Leah Simcha.

Your proud soldier.

I open my Tehillim. Always the right words.

All of a sudden, someone wants to use my phone. There's no such thing as strangers in a line like this, a line with this purpose. Sure, here's my phone. And here's my pen. And I have paper, too. Hi Doris from Iran. Nice to meet you. My name is Mimi, or Miriam.

A baby is crying. We all feel the mother's needs. Afterall, Chassidim are one family. Come here, nurse your baby. We'll block you. The crying stops. The family of hundreds feels calm again.

Inching closer. No rush. A calm focus.

A young boy rests his head on Tatty's shoulder. Tatty is telling a story to an older man. It seems to be this man's first time. His eyes are glistening.

The Rebbe is on the video. He is talking. He is singing.

I want to pluck him from the video.

Rebbe, why are you on a screen?

A pain in my heart longs for closeness.

And suddenly I am being rushed in.

I hold the line to drop some coins.

And here I go.

Inside.

In the womb.

I look around.

Two headstones surrounded by life.

Absorbing.

Prayers. Tears. Gratefulness.

Hashem, look at your children.

Just look at us.

We always show up.

Even for two minutes.

And two minutes is enough.

We're on Rebbe time. Each second is packed.

Besides, when you're face to face like this, the truth comes out.

Time forces honesty. No words are extra.

The depths come rushing to my lips.

Hashem, I just want to be good.

I want to be good.

Throat tightening.

Eyes wetting.

Hashem, I want to be good.

Lips tighten.

A tear.

Hashem, I want to be good.

Cheeks flushed.

Eyes moist.

Hashem, be with me.

I want to be good.

And here's what I'm going to do.

A holy conversation. Tehillim.

I read my letter. I scatter the pieces.

Tehillim.

And I'm being rushed to my left.

Outside.

I feel humbled.

I feel light.

I feel strong.

I feel heard.

I feel close.

Going home.

Niggunim are playing.

The vintage tape is unclear, but the Rebbe's voice is strong. Relevant. Urgent.

Out my window, the Jewish faces zoom by.

We have begun the march.

We're on our way.


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General info/stories/etc:
The Rebbe

My piece from last year:
The Rebbe Unplugged

One groups visit to the Ohel:
Return of the Souls

Dear Basya: G-d is One

Our Key Largo classroom

A few months ago, a girl named Basya commented on my blog, reacting to my notions about Chabad being “the truth.” Her questions inquired into my reasoning for promoting the Chabad way of life, and the learning of Chassidus.

While I can only say I try to live a Chabad life, and I wish I learned more of the Chassidus I so passionately preach, Basya pointed out that I may have had some experiences that can serve to answer her questions, which she says no one has ever properly answered.

I have had brief interaction with her via e-mail, and have decided – especially by the demand of other Hilltop enthusiasts – to start responding to her on my blog. This way, a larger audience can benefit from our interaction.

Basya’s question was personal. Therefore, so is my response.

The following is the first step.

-----

Dearest Basya,

To begin answering your question, I must take you back in time, and then to the present, to highlight what I want to propose as the foundation to this discussion.

Over two years ago, I was sitting in a non-Chabad classroom in Har Nof. The teacher’s elbows lay on both sides of a Hebrew text. He taught us enthusiastically as we took notes. It was nearing nightfall, and the trees could be heard moving through the window in the back of the classroom.

Suddenly, one of the students pointed our attention to the beautiful display of intense colors that the sky was showcasing. The sun was setting in Israel, and the Har Nof mountains made for no humble exhibit.

Naturally, we all got up and rushed to the window. Camera’s came out, and our wonderfully overwhelmed sounds filled the room.

In an effort to get girls back to their seats, our teacher was suddenly heard yelling out, "Girls, come on! We're learning Torah here!" He smacked the text with the back of his right hand to elucidate his point, but did not succeed in deterring a group of eighteen year old girls from marveling at a beautiful sky.

The teacher did not scream, nor was his reaction overboard in temper. However, it was what he said that is so troubling.

While our fascination with the sunset clearly interrupted classroom decorum, it was Torah itself that the teacher pointed out as being victimized by our inattention to the text.

How is it that a supposedly Torah-learned man has come to view Torah as something separate from the very world which it seeks to describe and illuminate? The fact that this Rabbi was hired to teach and inspire girls is worrisome, and that he represents a larger group of people is even worse. Although the incident seems subtle, and almost understandable, I have come to learn that it reflects an ideology owned by a lot of people who, in Torah’s name, maintain a rather warped view of the world.

The Rabbi’s words represented a huge portion of world Jewry that don't view the world as one entity in which G-d dwells in everything.

Flash forward some years to about a month and a half ago.

I am in Key Largo, learning Chassidus with women from all over the world. As you can imagine, the scenery in Florida is splendid.

During one particular class, about twenty students are gathered around Rabbi Manis Friedman, feeling his words like needle points in and out of the fabric of their lives. It’s evening, and we're sitting cozily in the lobby, with only a closed curtain behind our teacher separating us from swaying palm trees and the glistening ocean. We're talking about love. We're talking about G-d. We’re talking about our forefathers. Torah's wellsprings are spilling forth, and quenching the thirst of its drinkers.

Suddenly, Rabbi Friedman gets out of his seat.

In all the hours I've spent in Rabbi Friedman's classes, I have never seen him make any unnecessary gesture, movement, even eye contact.

He turns his back to the group, and, with a sweep of his hand, pulls the curtain all the way open to reveal a bright sunset, warm with orange and darkening in purple hues.

And with that, he takes his seat and resumes the class,

Something about Rabbi Friedman's action felt so right, and moved me to my core. While the sunset and deep lessons blended to form an almost euphoric experience, my mind went searching for the root of what I found so beautiful in Rabbi Friedman’s decision to open the blinds during class.

-----

It was a passing moment that defined the eyes through which Chabad views the world.

The core differentiation between the two classes is what I always knew was different about being Chabad. No matter where I was personally holding, and how much I was actually learning, I always sensed that these were the eyes I wanted to have.

If something is going to be teaching me truth, it better be in line with the world around me – the world I walk in, the world I breathe in. If you’re going to illuminate Torah for me and inspire me to serve our creator, it better happen without leaving a trace of his craft out of my hold.

And, at the root of my fascination with Chassidus, is this very idea – that the whole world is G-d, and G-d is the whole world. G-d is invested in everything. It’s not one G-d and one world. Rather, it’s all G-d.

The Chabad Rabbeim were brave enough to reveal a vital aspect of Judaism’s most essential prayer - the Shema. They saw the word “Echad” and revealed what it truly means. “Echad” means a oneness that encompasses and includes all existence, unlike “Yachid” which implies a one that allows for the existence of a second, a third, and so on. When our Rabbeim unraveled the true definition of the Shema, they revealed a oneness that is about unity, and not numbers.

I have experienced this distinction to be at the heart of the difference between the Chabad and non-Chabad world. To not believe in G-d’s unity is to believe that things exist by themselves, on their own. It means believing that G-d is separate from existence. And when you believe that, you can be a very learned Jew and feel like a foreigner to the world, like the world is out to get you – like a sunset is the enemy.

Part of my decision to strongly pursue the study of Chassidus was to ensure that I would never be learning from a Rabbi who is threatened by the world outside his window.

I found people who learned Chassidus to be extremely humble, for they knew that the world we live in is real and huge and relevant. While I saw other teachers swell with ego, my Chassidus teachers were eager to hear our insights - they understood that the truth that they were teaching were sitting inside the hearts and minds of their students. While the study of sources and texts were vital, it was never seen as something separate from the world, our experiences, and the rhythm of the universe which G-d created.

Chassidus is the only thing that has actually showed me that G-d is one. Everyone else only talked about it. And talked and talked some more - like a preachy sermon in a church. As Jews, we know that we have to believe in one G-d. For me, no one ever challenged this belief to its depths until I really learned Chassidus.

And no, it is not the invention of the so called Lubavitch movement. It is the essence of Judaism. However, Chassidus is the study which confronts, explains and enlivens G-d’s oneness, so that it truly comes to life, changing the eyes through which we view the world, and each other.

So, you ask, Why Chassidus when you can be frum without it? Yes, of course you can be frum without Chassidus. Chassidus isn't about being religious. It's about understanding the makeup of the world and our creator with clarity and truth. It's about tuning your eyes to the G-dliness in the world, inherent in everything and everyone.

For me, this theme is the beginning point necessary before dissecting all the aspects of Chabad that inspire the tone you hear in my writing. I hope this serves as a strong foundation for the rest of our discussions which will, G-d willing, be enlightening for the both of us.

All my best,

Mimi

Dating?

The question makes me feel awkward right away.

I hear it.

I pause.

I smile uneasily.

I stumble on my words.

I basically look totally confused.

My answer completely dodges the inquirer's real question.

I always just end up saying, “Yea, I want to get married.”

I just can’t give a yes to the dating inquiry.

Listen.

The last thing I want to do is date.

Ever.

----------

When someone hears I’m 20, their response is immediate.

“So, are you dating?”

Just hearing the word “dating” sends me into complete bewilderment.

I am completely baffled, actually.

Dating?

Did someone just ask me if I am dating?

Is dating something people actually do?

It’s like they know about this trendy thing that all the Jewish youth are getting into.

But, really…

Since when do Jews date?

Who invented such a thing?

I guarantee you, it wasn’t a Jew.

Why?

Because Jews don’t care about dating.

We care about finding our soul mates.

Dating just doesn’t exist in our world.

Whenever someone gets engaged, you always hear those people who say, “Wow, I had no idea that s/he was dating.”

Well, this is exactly why.

It’s because they weren’t dating.

And because they weren’t dating, they got engaged.

People who date don’t get married. They get to tour some nice hotel lobbies and drink water from fancy bottles. They sharpen their dining etiquette. They may even get to cruise in a nice rental car.

People who date meet people. Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy.

But I’m not interested in meeting a boy.

You have come up to me and said, “Mimi, there’s a great guy I want you to go out with.”

But, come on.

You know I don’t “go out” with guys.

Instead of offering someone you want me to date, why don’t you offer someone you want me to marry?

Just say, “Mimi, I have someone you may want to marry.”

Nothings wrong with that.

That’s how Jews talk.

-----

Last night, someone said to me, “You’re 20?”

“Prime age. You should find your husband very soon.”

Now you’re talking.

Yes, I am looking for my husband.

Not a guy.

Not a boy.

And most definitely not a date.

Myth #7: Chabad Goes to the Middle of Nowhere

I was visiting some friends from a non-Chabad seminary and found myself in a class on the subject of Jewish outreach. The teacher was dispensing a lot of struggling advice and inspiration on the topic. In all her explaining and descriptions, she aimed to encourage the young women in the class to be involved in outreach in some form.

Then, she said something that I had hear many times before, but, in this particular context, caught my attention.

"However you want to reach out, you can do it" she said, "you don't have to be like Chabad and go out to the middle of nowhere."

Everyone looked at me - the Chabadnik in the classroom.

I cracked a smile, partially for the sake of some response, but mostly because I love nothing more than the feeling of being a notable Chabadnik.

Of course, the Chabad mention got my attention - but, inside, the teacher's words had me thinking.

Chabad goes to the middle of nowhere, eh?

Why are people who believe in a place called "nowhere" giving classes on spreading Judaism to the world?

------

What the teacher meant to say is that she believes in a place called nowhere, and - never having visited a Chabad emissary herself - finds it very hard to suggest to her class to do such a thing.

But, the teacher is right.

Going to the middle of nowhere is indeed one of the most absurd things I've heard.

The truth is, I wouldn't suggest it to anyone myself.

I mean, if you are nowhere, you're going to have a pretty hard time reaching out.

So how, then, does Chabad do it?

The truth is, Chabad goes to places that everyone else thinks is nowhere, and shows the world how it truly is a somewhere .

Chabad does this because we can't tolerate that there is an actual place - not a "nowhere!" - without Jewish influence. It is our strong adversity to this nowhere concept that sends us into farm towns, ice worlds, and the seemingly empty spaces of the world.

It's like we have some insider information. While everyone walks around ignoring the reality of all kinds of hometowns by referring to them as "nowhere", Chabad just knows that there must be a house to buy, a building to turn int a shul, and Jews to invite for Shabbos - all in this place that everyone insists doesn't exist.

You refer to a place as "nowhere," and the Chabadnik doesn't get it. Nowhere just isn't in the Chabad language.

Nowhere is when you're lost in a car, and your friend asks you on the phone, "where are you?" You're completely lost and have to admit, "I'm nowhere."

Nowhere is the place you were when you walk in past curfew and your mother asks, "where have you been?"

But, really, nowhere is what you call other places when you think that where you are is the only place that is worthy of being on the map.

------

When the Rebbe sent emissaries to various places, he was saying, "There exists a place. A somewhere. Go there."

Because Chabad doesn't go to the middle of nowhere, the most barren cities have Mikvahs.

Because Chabad doesn't go to the middle of nowhere, Jews in Fairfield, Iowa have pictures of the Rebbe next to their Menorah.

Because Chabad doesn't go to the middle of nowhere, there is Kosher meat for a growing Jewish "hick town."

Because Chabad doesn't go to the middle of nowhere, you can be stranded anywhere in the world and still have a place for Shabbos.

Because Chabad doesn't go to the middle of nowhere, a Shliach has to tell his visiting ambassadors to take a left at "Conshohocken Rd."

Around the world, Chabad emissaries are uprooting the notion of nowhere, even among the cities own inhabitants.

Dave has been living in his small southern town for quite some time now. Although he likes the quiet life, he often things about moving to a somewhere, a city bubbling with more life - and certainly more Jewish life. One day, he walks into the local dry cleaners and finds a Rabbi picking up his suit. They get to taking, and - you know the rest of the story. Later, he reports how awesome it was to run into a bearded Jew in the middle of nowhere. He recalls that, at that very moment, he realized that his little hometown is a somewhere. He doesn't have to move to New York now. There is a Chabad house right around the corner - he aint goin', well, nowhere.

In Eugene, Oregon, a Rabbi teaches the Parsha to college students. In Bellingham, Washington, Jews are being treated to the most celebratory holiday parties. In Guatemala City, traditional parents are able to send their children to a fun Jewish camp. In Aiya Napa, Cyprus, Israeli's are hearing Kiddush for the first time. In Amersfoort, Netherlands, family purity is becoming a reality for many Jewish women. In Omaha, Nebraska, Jews are getting answers to their biggest questions.

Meanwhile, an uninformd teacher in Israel is referring to such places as "nowhere."

Someone needs to clue her in to the fact that there are thousands of these so-called-nowheres that have Chabad houses open for visitation 24 hours, 365 days of the year.

------

When our Rebbe sent the first Shliach to a place without a synagogue, without a Jewish school, and maybe even without a normal grocery store, the newly designated Shliach would pause in a moment of deep contemplation, unable to imagine the vacant scene in which he would soon arrive.

"Wow," he would think to himself as his eyes widened, "the Rebbe is really sending me somewhere."

From our own living rooms to the expanive fields in the south to the crowded streets in Bejing, the Rebbe's vision made every square inch of this world into a place where magic happens. He forced us to change the way we think of a happening place, a place worth being inhabited. He challenged us to spread holiness and give, no matter where we make our steps. The Rebbe saw a world where there was a home for every Jew - so that, when a Jew finds himself feeling like he is in the middle of life's nowhere, he will still find a Chabad house - somewhere.

Trauma Aboard Flight 1016

I, too, am a woman. Or so I thought.

He’s just your average college dude.

School team hat. Beaten jeans and sneakers. Blonde hair.

He sits to my right.

He is a boy.

I am a girl.

This girl and this boy are on flight 1016, both excited for their arrival in Miami.

They are sitting way too close for comfort, and this trip’s battle over the armrest takes an easy loss on the side of the girl.

We’re in the air.

The boy spreads out as much as he can, reclines his seat, and shifts his hat to cover his eyes.

Something’s holding me back from relaxing.

No, not something.

A boy is holding me back from relaxing.

I’m not accustomed to sprawling out and resting in such proximity to a college lad.

So this girl is sitting upright.

There is no plan of action when you're stuck in 5 square feet and thousands of feet in the air. She'll just have to deal.

Soon enough, the young mister starts moving.

Ever so nonchalantly, our young man pulls out a magazine from his stuff.

And, no, it's not Newsweek.

They call it "Men's Health Magazine."

Apparently, a tan and barely clothed model in an extremely creative position has something to do with men's health.

I glance over. I have to see the expression on his face.

Is he seriously about to peruse through this magazine with a young lady seated right beside him?

This girls cheeks are probably a little flushed.

So he opens it.

The flashy pages totally grab my glances in this empty, crammed, and temporary space.

And now, every time he turns the page, I naturally look over…almost against my will.

The pictures. The vulgar headlines.

This men's magazine is totally dedicated to the objectification of women.

Women - for men’s viewing pleasure.

I am utterly amazed.

Does this boy not realize?

I, too, am a woman.

I am a feminine being.

I have the same body parts

I may even wear the same lipstick.

And the boy sits beside the girl, turning the pages ever so casually.

This guy is acting as if I am a separate creation. As if I have nothing to take personally.

He is effacing my gender.

The lack of embarrassment is startling.

How could he not be uncomfortable?

I have within me all those things that put women in men’s magazines.

And, who does he think he is – making me aware of this?

Who does he think he is – exposing me to this?

Aisle 21 has never been the scene of so much squirming. I am cringing from within.
This girl wants to cry.

On a flight to Miami, I am forced to face the harsh reality of the nature of secular usage of the female body, the truths of our all-too-often shameless society, and the horrors of a world with no respect for boundaries.

As I sat in 21E, this girl realized that people have become all too comfortable with their own perversions.

There’s no such thing as “behind closed doors” anymore.

And not just that, but our young fellow has lost touch of the world. He doesn’t even realize he’s sitting next to a woman.

When he opened the magazine, I became an object.

That was the only way he could open the magazine without being guilt-ridden, without it feeling wrong.

After all, who opens a men’s magazine with provocative pictures while seated an inch away from a young lady?

This girl feels a little taken advantage of.

She feels a loss of innocence.

And all because of your average college dude.

School team hat. Beaten jeans and sneakers. Blonde hair.

He sits to my right.

He is a boy.

I am an object.

Oh, Aish.

http://www.aish.com/societyWork/salomonSays/Menorah-less_in_Seattle.asp

Some Rabbis just seem bored. Like, scary bored.

Follow the link above to watch a video of an Aish Rabbi in real confusion about the purpose of Chanukah.

I had no idea that someone can make a case against public Menorah lightings, and try and show 9through Torah's lense!) that it's actually "counter intuitive to Chanukah itself."

Two words, buddy:

Persumei Nissah.

Publisizing the miracle.

So, we take it seriously.

You don't.

Fine.

It's funny how some people - supposed educators - can spend time knocking the efforts of others. I mean, this guy actually posts a video.

Ridiculous.

How come I've never seen a Chabadnik put so much effort into questioning and putting down the efforts of another "sect" of Jews?

The answer is simple.

Chabad is too busy spreading good and paving the way for redemption.

Yea, I hear them outside my window right now.

They're driving out of Crown Heights in Menorah-topped cars, with music blaring.

I would like to hear this guy on the video ask his pathetic ego-toned questions to the thousands that have transformed their lives because of a public Menorah lighting. Underlying his message is a total disregard for other Jews. It's grotesque.

When he says that instead of public menorah lightings, "we should look within" and "make sure we're as strong as we can be" - what does he propose?

Besides, how do we do that without all the other Jews in on it with us? Do you believe in the Jewish people or not?

And since when does "looking within" mean the exclusion of care for the "outside"?

It's shocking.

Again, some people just seem a little bored.

It's almost like they got Rabbinical ordination just so they can make lame preachy home videos.

Things like this make me incredibly grateful for the Rebbe, who's eternal guidance and vision always gets to the core of the issue. When you have the Rebbe to look to as an example for real action, there's no time to waste with such silliness.There's no time to be bored.

This Rabbi really should go catch a Menorah lighting somewhere.

You know, step outside. Get some fresh air.

Might do him some good this holiday season.

Color me true

It's very exciting for me to be in New York, a place where having many nail salons lowers the price of a manicure to $6, half as much as it costs in Seattle.

The nail salon on Kingston was quiet when I walked in with two friends the other day.

The arduous mental task of picking a color was all that stood between me and my seat in front of a sweet, middle aged, non-English speaking Asian.

I looked at the wall of colors.

Does anybody actually wear lime green nail polish?

Probably not, but they have it anyways.

It’s all there, to create a beautiful rainbow on the wall of potential colors that can have you standing for hours trying to decide.

My eyes go directly to the row of reds.

Red nail polish is so fun.

Red is boldly feminine.

Red is eye catching.

Red is dramatic.

Red is alluring.

Red is…

Gosh, you know the word I'm trying to get at.

I pick up the red.

I’m excited about this.

But something keeps me looking.

I am being held back from committing to the color.

The voice within is talking.

It’s saying, “Red is just too hot.”

It’s saying, “Red is a statement.”

It’s saying, “Be attractive, not attracting.”

In contrast, the friend I was with decided on red rather easily.

The pressure kicked in, and I told her about my inner struggle.

She said, “Yea, who cares? Do what you want.”

I say, “I should go with my intuition, right?”

She agrees.

But what is my intuition?

One part of me is saying, “Do what makes you feel good.”

The other is saying, “Don’t be so loud.”

I decided to end the inner battle by going with my initial attraction to the red.

I fell for its flames, and, with an excited smile, went to get the show on the road.

I sat down, and started chatting idly with the lady who was now dipping my hands in blue liquid and filing my nails to a square.

The whole time, I’m looking at the red positioned next to her hands, and glancing back at the color well.

The thoughts are still like waves in my head.

Would I wear red nail polish on a date?

Would I feel comfortable wearing it in front of the people I admire?

Does it give off a false impression? Portray a boldness that I just don’t relate to?

My hands are now ready for the polish.

The lady is shaking the bottle.

She is twisting the cap.

My hands are limp at her whim.

No joke – a second before the brush is about to hit my nails, I pull my hands away.

“Wait, I’m so sorry, but I am going to go get a different color!”

The color of nail polish should not bring forth such a mind battle.

Either it fits, or it doesn’t.

I took it as a sign that I really am uncomfortable with the red.

Right then and there, I decided - I am going to show my true colors.

I quickly ran back to the color wall and picked out something lighter, a warm peachy color.

For me, no matter how attracted I was to going for the bold red, it didn’t sit well with me.

I had to question my motives. I had to hear the stronger voice. I had to be honest.

When it came down to it, something overrode my attraction to the red.

I have not formulated a strong opinion about red nail polish.

I am not making broad claims about the nature of those who wear it.

This was just me being forced to make a personal decision, and trying to be true to myself, and where I’m holding.

I don’t want to be a person who doesn’t care.

If I had to tell myself “I don’t care” to go with it, then I couldn’t do it.

With my decision against red that day, I decided to have a conscious about even the seemingly insignificant choices I make all the time.

Everything about my outer appearance, yes – down to the color of my nail polish – is meant to blend and jive with who I am beneath it all.

So, I spent that Shabbos with a polish color that was more “blah” than “wow.”

And the funny part is that, deep down, what nobody sees is that I am very attracted to hot red nail polish.

I am wearing lighter shades, but little do you know, I hurt my head deciding against red.

“Mimi doesn’t wear red nail polish.”

Yea, so what? I don’t wear it. But I am attracted to it.

In the end, does my choice of color point to my modesty?

Modesty starts from within, but within - I want red!

There, the truth is out there.

Don’t be deceived.

Yes, in the end, though – I didn’t go for the red.

And what does that say about me?

It’s not so clear.

But one thing is for sure.

While my nails may not be painted a bold red, the decision I made left me feeling pretty brave.

Steppin' out

A bachur steps out in New York

I have yet to hear the details.

I was Gmail chatting with my brother online today when he had to interrupt to go do something.

"Stepping out..." he said.

I asked, "“to where?"” but he was already gone. I resumed my work at the desk, typing up flyers, calling people...

My brother returned a half hour later to answer me.

"Well, turns out...I was stepping out...to make a Bar Mitzvah. First time Teffilin for a guy I just met in the store."

So this is what happens when the Rebbe's soldiers step away from their computers.

Just like that.

A Jew steps out.

A Bar Mitzva takes place.

A Jew steps out.

A man is reconnected.

A Jew steps out.

And our nation is a little more whole.

----------

Imagine if we all just stepped out a little more.

The Rebbe'’s lasting vision lives through us almost effortlessly sometimes.

It was just one small step for a Bachur, one giant leap for mankind.

Myth #5: The Rebbe never went to Israel

People love asking the question. It's as if Chabad is perfect, but they have the pin, the fine point that's going to pop every Lubavitcher into smithereens. There's always a chin-up ego type of stance in the person asking the question. They're thinking, "yea, how's he gonna answer THIS one?"

Why didn't the Rebbe ever go to Israel?

Behind the question is a deeply rooted missionary mindset. It’s a holy checklist. Like no one is seeing the soul of what it's supposed to mean to go to Israel.

What encourages this twistedness is when the Chabadnik being asked actually answers this weak "why?" question by opening their answer with, "because.."

There is no "because..."

The real response isn't an answer. It's a halt on all the questioners premises.

Not only did the Rebbe go to Israel, he was there all the time.

And no, he did not fly El Al. He did not have jet lag, and did not have to deal with the time delay.

His trips were more direct than that.

He didn’t go to Israel, he lived Israel. He breathed Israel.

The Rebbe lived Israel through all his thoughts, speeches, and actions.

His involvement was real, sacred, and always on target.

Get the facts, people.

__________

Because the Rebbe lived Israel, he was able to stand in line for hours and, with his clear vision and positivity, encourage questioning travelers to travel to Israel no matter what the situation.

Because the Rebbe lived Israel, he was able to tell thousands of people not to fear.

Because the Rebbe lived Israel, he was able to turn the shame of crippled Israeli soldiers into deep respect, admiration, and praise.

Because the Rebbe lived Israel, he ensured everyone’s safety when the country was barraged with missiles. No one person was hurt.

Because the Rebbe lived \Israel, thousands of people put on Tefillin for Israel’s safety.

Because the Rebbe lived Israel, everyone became a soldier. Even tiny children marched.

Because the Rebbe lived Israel, his mourning for a soldier’s death was real. After one particular massacre, the Rebbe didn't leave his room for days. He felt everything.

Because the Rebbe lived Israel, he was in continual contact with leaders and politicians. In many ways, the government was in his hands.

Because the Rebbe lived Israel, he knew the issues. He was unafraid to be real about G-d’s instructions.When things got hazy, the Rebbe simple told the world “we’re not allowed.” He wasn’t afraid to say, “This is what G-d wants, this is his will.”

Because the Rebbe lived Israel, he was able to convince two members of Perez’s cabinet to walk out, and Perez never became Prime Minister. The Rebbe would not sit idly and allow him to win with plans to give Arafat the whole West Bank.

Because the Rebbe lived Israel, he was able to give information to hundreds at farbrengens. He knew exactly where American money was going, what the Arab nations next moves were, and the physical details of the Mideast terrain.

Because the Rebbe lived Israel, newspapers were eager to herald the Rebbe’s prophecies, directives, and comfort with the world.

Because the Rebbe lived Israel, everyone there knew his voice was the strongest. When the Rebbe had a stroke and couldn’t speak, Rabin said, “now we can do what we want.”

Because the Rebbe lived Israel, there are countless stories of how Israel was saved through his intervention, his speaking out, his unwavering strength and clarity.
__________

The list goes on. We don't even know the half of it.

The Rebbe had a fiery clarity and focus when it came to Israel and the needs of our nation in times of crisis. He felt every vibration. He didn’t miss a beat.

Ask a Shliach in Israel, "What do you think about the fact that the Rebbe never came to Israel?" and he will answer, "What? Never came to Israel? Where did you hear that?”

Ask a soldier in Israel, and he will smile and whip out his picture of the Rebbe, kiss it, and say “The Rebbe is here, my friend.”

For Israel, the Rebbe was a true leader, a freind, a healer, a truth ringer. It is his message and light, the realness of G-d’s truth in this world, that are the only positivity in Israel today.
__________

The real question is whether the Rabbis who do indeed appear to live in Israel are actually present in the land. They seem to be there, we hear of them every now and then.

Our ‘leaders” in Israel. It’s laughable. All they do is whisper.

The Rebbe got children to rally.

As the Rabbis in Israel whispered.

The Rebbe refused to be passive.

As the Rabbis in Israel whispered.

The Rebbe cried.

As the Rabbis in Israel whispered.

The Rebbe called the Prime Minister.

As the Rabbis in Israel whispered.

The Rebbe said it like it is, and loud.

As the Rabbis in Israel whispered.

The Rebbe himself is known to have asked, “Where is the voice of the religious?”

And, well, the Rabbis in Israel just whispered.

__________

So, this question about the Rebbe visiting Israel. It’s got to go.

If you ever get asked this question, just smile.

Then hit them with the truth.

Conversation #1: "Chabad is hard to copy"

(Picture approved by G-d)

(Visiting a non-Chabad seminary, I find myself in a class headed by a small, glasses-wearing, wide-eyed Rabbi. The following conversation is abbreviated, there being much more details, but everything mentioned here is true.)


He introduced the topic by saying, "I would like to discuss the advantages of the Chareidi community over the Modern Orthodox world."

I'm thinking, "Who sits and entertains such distinctions? Does anyone talk about Judaism anymore?"

But that wasn't part of the conversation. The conversation started when....

He said: In order for Chareidi communities to remain G-d fearing and Torah-focused, they must have a certain amount of intolerance to other Jews.

I say: But wait, Torah is one. Do you believe that?

He says: Yes, of course.

I say: G-d asks us to fear him and to learn Torah. He also asks us to love our fellow Jews. Who are you to deny the unity and symmetry - the interconnectedness and harmony - of G-d's commands? G-d asked both. Therefore, we are capable of both.

He says: Yes, but, um, yea, but, well, it seems to be that intolerance is a necessary evil in Torah-true communities.

I say: Necessary evil?

He says: Yea, meaning to say, that you need this intolerance to truly create a Torah community.

I say: But how can you actually have a Torah community with intolerance to other Jews?! Intolerance to other Jews isn't Torah at all!

He says: Well, it seems to be that only the Gedolim can really pull off this balance.

I'm thinking, "Well, all you're gedolim are sitting in secluded neighborhood - what kind of a harmony are they ever asked to strike? And was Torah only given to these so-called Gedolim? Were G-ds commands not meant for the nation? And beyond that, why put all the weight on the Gedolim? Have you tried? Aren't you meant to copy their ways?"

I'm thinking, "This is twisted", but I let him continue his talk to me and the other 5 girls I am only visiting.

When he is done, all the girls thank him and leave. Just like that.

I, the stranger, stay behind.

I say: I'm still confused. Are you saying that G-d's command to be G-d-fearing and Torah learning can't be fulfilled while following out the command to love every Jew?

He says: Um, well, yea - with exception of the Gedolim, yea, aha.

I am bursting. I just have to.

I say: So what do you think about Chabad?

He says: What do you mean?

I say: I mean how they are observant, G-d fearing, learned - all while maintaining a very natural and all-embracing attitude of openness towards all Jews. How do they pull it off?

He says: Well, uh, what you have with Chabad, is uh...something very hard to copy.

I say: But clearly if Chabad does it, it means it's possible. They didn't make it up, or copyright it. It's Torah.

He says: Well, yes, but, they have their losses too. I mean...we (non-Chabad/Litvish folks) definitely have more Talmidei Chachamim.

I suddenly realize I am dealing with an ego.

I say: Well, I guess not everyone in Chabad is struggling to become a Talmid Chacham.

He moves his head and rolls his eyes in an "Okay, fine" sort of way.

And then, there's not much more to say.

Conversation #1 ends here.

After parting ways, I'm left thinking, "Is Chabad the only thing out there that believes Torah is one and true?"

-----

As the next Rabbi gets up to speak to the girls, I hear him begin his speech on the premise that, "Girls, we are all here to be Gedolim!"

And so I'm left there, sitting, marveling at the inconsistencies of a struggling and swaying philosophy that the student - robots dare not notice.

--------

Make your own conclusions.

This has been Conversation #1.