A few years ago, I took up rappelling, the art of descending sheer cliffs by rope and harness, so that we could explore the red-rock canyons of Southern Utah. After I had begun to learn the basics, Steve, our guide, said to me, “You’re one of those people who wants to speed up when your adrenaline starts to flow.”
Some things in life have to be earned, and some things cannot be. We can earn respect and reputation by our behavior, but sometimes we need help, or forgiveness, or just a break, that we haven’t earned and don’t deserve. And we can also give to others gifts they don’t deserve and don’t have to earn. That sort of undeserved kindness is captured by the word Hesed, often translated as lovingkindness.
The other day I had coffee with Hal, the father of one of our chavurah members. He had just written his second novel, this one based on his amazing experiences as a Jewish-American soldier fighting the Nazis in World War II. We got together to talk about his book.
One of the current terms of religious discussion that I’ve grown to suspect is “spirituality.” I’m tired of hearing people say, “I’m not religious; I’m spiritual,” which often means I don’t have any outward signs of religious or transcendent life, but, trust me, I possess many lofty sentiments.
Chesed or loving-kindness is an essential human attribute, but it’s first of all a divine attribute. If we want to cultivate chesed, we should pay attention to how Hashem exercises it. And God’s chesed is on display at the conclusion of the Haftarot of Comfort, the passages from Isaiah that we read during this period between Tisha B’av and Rosh Hashanah.
Back in the early 1990's, an unknown figure named Erin Brokovich emerged. She was a single mother of three, working in a law firm in California, who wanted to know what medical records had to do with a real estate file. What she found out led to the biggest settlement on record for a civil class action lawsuit.
Many people have a hard time with silence. It makes them uncomfortable and they feel they have to fill the void.
For those who are aquainted with snow in winter, you know what I mean when I say that all the world is filled with silence when it snows. There is nothing like a snow-covered land. The cars make less noise, everything glistens and everything is pure: pure white and insulated.
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this week's podcast highlights the reunion of Jacob and Esau after many years apart. Each values the material world and wealth differently. As we enter this coming holiday shopping season, consider the middah of frugality as it relates to our own material resources, wealth and what we truly value in life.
I recently added email to my cell phone capabilities and discovered that waiting in line will never be quite the same. If it looks like the line might hold me up for more than a few minutes, I flip out my phone, click a couple of times, wait while the little icon spins around for a few seconds, and then start doing email.
Living in Seattle, I take very seriously the concept of not only preserving resources, but making sure that every bit can be recycled or composted. Normally our recycling and composting outnumbers our trash by probably ten to one. Taking out the trash in our house would be an easy job; instead, my teen sons get the hefty job of taking out the recycling.
The Hebrew word for frugality is keemutz. Keemutz translates to thrift, economizing, frugality, retrenchment.
If any of us have difficulty with being truly frugal, many times it has to do with the concept of there being an innate dissatisfaction within ourselves that we have difficulty quelling. We always have this fleeting wanting, wanting, wanting.
Frugality and moderation are not the most popular virtues in the age of consumerism in which we live. Rabbi Mendel tells us, “Be careful with your money. Do not spend even a penny needlessly.” In the afterglow of the recent global economic meltdown, this looks like good advice. But it also has the potential to derail the global recovery, since today’s economy depends on the opposite of frugality, on free and ever-expanding spending.
Once a very rich man, Yossele, was considered a stingy, mean miser. Everyone was sure that he shared his wealth with no one, never gave to anyone – ever. Everyone in the ghetto where he lived knew how much he had and how he hoarded it, and everyone judged him for not doing something to help the suffering and need of the women and children and the elderly. But he never made public donations...
