Reb L's G-dcast

It's been almost two months now, and the pain is still there. I do keep thinking that he hasn't really gone. The first words that we learn, or instinctively say - even before we have an understanding of our surroundings, are Mummy or Daddy - Abba or Ima. They are the comfort, the pillows (Kariot in Hebrew - and you just thought it was a tasty Israeli breakfast cereal!) that cushion us from pain. Without them, we are exposed and in pain. The Gemoro tells us that the child begins to call these words around the time that it begins to 'taste wheat'. This is the beginning of Da'as - knowledge, understanding, connection. It is Da'as which allows us to really live. But it is Da'as that also enables sin, as without it, we are blameless. This is what brought death to the world - the first 'chet' (etymologically similar to chita - wheat). It is what stopped when the Torah was given, and then abruptly restarted with another 'Chet', of the golden calf. The original three weeks, which should have been weeks of intense happiness were inverted in a moment, to a history of pain and exile. We look to regain it in the month of Av - literally 'Daddy' - where the pain will dissipate and we will be reunited with our Father.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, or so it said. Ah...the ubiquitous apple. This expression is used to denote the way that our behaviours reflect the things that we learned from our home environment. Nature or nurture, we have traits which originate from the previous generation. Like it or lump it, we're stuck with it.  It is no accident, that this same fruit is the one borrowed by certain people - not of the Jewish persuasion - to express the rather depressing notion that we are condemned to be tainted by sin, just by being born in the physical world. The original Adam's 'apple' - stuck in the throat of the first human being (and as expressed through even the purest archetypal fairy-tale characters - think Snow White) means that we are born sinful, they say, redeemable only through a belief in 'he who must not be named', rather than actions. Yes, like it or lump it, it leaves a lump in our throats - literally and metaphorically. It is a distortion of Chazal's understanding of how Adam's error is really manifest and rectifiable. The Gemoro which identifies that first fruit, mentions four possibilities - none of which is the apple - a probable mistranslation. But the apple still has its place in Midrashic and Talmudic literature. Let's explore some fascinating ideas in this mysterious area. 

Yes - deliberate misspelling. What is so special about the apple? In the UK, it is seen as a pretty regular fruit. Tasty, but ordinary. According to the translation that we will use today, the Tapuach is the apple. Vilified by many in its identity, yet its song is a sweet recall of the special relationship between Hashem and His beloved nation - taken from Shir Hashirim. When others were not interested in the responsibilities of what the Torah might demand of them, along came a downtrodden nation and embraced it before knowing what was in it. This apparently impulsive move - criticised by some, is lauded by Hashem as typical of the trust placed in Him. That same depth of relationship is alluded to elsewhere in Shir Hashirim, when talking of the determination of the nascent Jewish nation (in particular the mothers) to ensure continuation and relationship. Let's see what secrets it may hold at its core.

I would like to dedicate this podcast to our father ר' יהודה אריה בן ר' יצחק מאיר - הריני כפרת משכבו, as we reach the end of the Sheloshim period. Please feel free to listen and forward to as many people as possible. Anything positive gleaned from here, should be a merit for his Neshomo. (Anything else - blame on me). It is also the reason for the double length feature. We are about to discover some of the secrets of the date palm. Unique, in it being a member of both the 4 Minim of Succos, and the 7 minim of Israel, it is also the only one of the sweet 7 which the spies - having praised its sweetness (the Midrash confirms the date as being the source of the honey with which the Land flows, along with the milk) - did not dare bring back. Perhaps that would have backfired for them. We will learn about ego, or the lack of it thereof.  Which is more than appropriate when thinking of out father - a special man who only lacked one thing... ...An ego. 

'I'm stuffed! I'm going to burst!' The phrases that we say when we are uncomfortably full... possibly because we couldn't resist the great food that was available...we feel like we are about to explode. Rimon - the fruit that appears stuffed with seeds, bursting with goodness... (Fun fact of the day - Rimon is a hand grenade in Modern Hebrew). What is the idea of the song expressed by the stuffed pomegranate? Fyi...a paper by a non-Jewish doctoral student of computer science at Columbia University. He shows that pomegranates from six test countries have on average 613 seeds. Curious. http://www.aquaphoenix.com/misc/pomegranate/ This is the link to his CV http://www.aquaphoenix.com/about/

The song that the pomegranate sings is an interesting choice. Referring to the beauty behind the veil, the verse from Shir HaShirim hints to the modest humility of one who does need to show off. Their beloved knows of their virtues. When works on oneself on the inside, you need not say anything...the positivity can be seen on the outside too. What treasures lie within? Take a peek behind the veil...

It is often quipped, that it is unclear if choosing free will is determined, or accepting determinism is a choice... You may have heard the idea compared to a game of cards: The hand that you are dealt is comparable to determinism - you couldn't do anything about it. The way you play the hand...is in your hands. That is free will. There are obviously questions on the analogy. And there is an overlap with the nature/nurture debate - to which we have alluded. Essentially, however, as we have noted, Viktor Frankl speaks of it in terms of the situation in which you may find yourself placed. It may not be of your choice. But how you respond - that is in your hands. We receive the Torah in this week's sedra - Yisro. He made a careful evaluation and chose to connect. Like the owner of the fig tree - watching and observing the right choice at the right time. Will we use the same careful evaluation? Or will we continue to make excuses?  It's your choice...

Teacher: 'Why did you shout out?' Student: 'He/she told me to...' or...  2) 'I can't help it, it's my nature' Teacher: 'Would you do that at home?' (Cheeky student - 'Yes'... Respectful student...eyes downcast and embarrassed) We're quick to blame - it could be home, peer pressure or our own personal characteristics...but perhaps there is a way to harness one's nature - understand how to channel it. Being aware of the fruits of my actions will allow me to nurture my nature...

The fig is a very interesting fruit. Sometimes seen as cheap in the Gemoro, it takes time to ripen, and spoils easily. It requires constant vigilance...or should we say figilance. Yet, it is one of a select few that is seen as a praiseworthy feature of the land of Israel. What is its secret? It's about time. Literally...

This Shiur is in memory of a great woman - Reizel bas Moshe. She should be a Meilitz yosher for us all, and her children should continue to be a source of Nachas for her. It's Shabbos Shira this week. Some will feed the birds - give these creatures of song a little taste of something. What is the secret of the song? Why do we sing by the Yam Suf?  We will see how when one puts the individual notes together - just like each individual grape  of the Gefen - the vine - is not worth much. But together they form a cluster worth saving. So too, one note does not a symphony make, but together it forms harmony and sweet music. No pain - no gain. Yet, when we know the reason for that gain, we are willing to bear some of that pain, as all the maybes become definites.  Today, we will reveal the secret of טעם - the Hebrew word for reason. And musical note. And taste...

What is Tu Bishvat? A chance to sing happy birthday to the trees? We know we are not just tree huggers for the sake of it, so there must be more to it than that. The vine sings a song of togetherness. Isolated, we are as good as worthless. It is strength in numbers - not necessarily quantitatively, but in the nature of being together with others. We cannot do it alone. And when we can acknowledge this, it is the biggest blessing of all...

Part 2 of The Song of The Trees explores Hoshana Rabbo as a culmination of the Yomim Noraim, its relationship with Yom Kippur, Neila and its connection with our growing relationship with Hashem - as children, rather than servants. I dedicate this episode to the Woodlands people, where I originally 'wood' have said these words at Neila.

Chapter 3 begins with the song of the trees of the field. They sing of Hashem judging the world. What have trees got to do with justice? And what potential connection is there to the months of Elul and Tishrei - where we are told that 'the King is in the field?' The clue is in the familiar fact that we sing about our impending sentences for the coming year - serious, yet happy...tune in for the first installment of the message of the trees.

As the last few hours of the year pass; as the last day of Elul passes, it is time to reflect on the craziest year in most of our lifetimes. How has it been? Do we feel closer or more distant? What should we feel? Part of the secret may lie within the concept of Elul itself. Embedded in source after source, we need to explore what our task is over this period of time. The Gemoro In Bava Basra relates how Iyov suggested that he was suffering because, perhaps, Hashem mixed up Iyov with 'Oyev' - meaning 'enemy'. Amongst the responses that Hashem gave to Iyov, was one where He said:  “Who has divided a channel for the torrent of rain, or a path for the lightning of thunder”?  I have created many drops of water in the clouds, and for each drop I created its own channel, so that two drops should not emerge from the same channel. If two drops were to emerge from the same channel they would destroy the earth and it would not yield produce. Now, if I do not confuse one drop with another, would I confuse Iyov with oyev? Now, amongst the many ideas behind this deep passage, is the fact that Hashem controls every single individual raindrop. He is aware of every placement. This is remarkably reminiscent of the famous prayer of Unesaneh Tokef which we will say over Rosh Hashono and Yom Kippur. There, we describe the precision with which Hashem scrutinises every individual, like sheep.  He maintains an exclusive relationship with every single one of us, and we receive exactly what we should. But if we desire a positive connection, we have to make the first move. As we have noted before, the first few steps of AA express the need to acknowledge that we are powerless and need the assistance of 'a Power greater than ourselves'. If we want that connection, we have the opportunity to grab the reins, by recognising who is holding the rains. Have a sweet, inspiring and healthy year ahead!

'Such Gashmiyus!'  One of those annoying phrases you hear when you're tucking in to a particularly tasty piece of food....It's calculated to rile you - makes you feel guilty for enjoying the physical too much. But is it a crime? The Gemoro tells us that after 120 years, we will have to give an accounting for the physical pleasures that were permitted to us, and we did not partake thereof. A more careful examination will show us that a key part of our prayers is asking for rain - particularly in Israel, but a key part nevertheless. It is intimately connected to financial and economic wellbeing. That doesn't sound very spiritual, does it? Well, think again. Our prayers for the physical, are a bridge to the spiritual. And Hashem's response? The rain - a bridge from the spiritual to the physical. Geshem - rain. The root of Gashmiyus...

I wonder if you ever found yourself in a situation where you complained about something, and had the tables turned on you. You were the one charged with the mission to rectify the situation. Gulp - we might just retract that complaint.. It's one thing to complain. It is another to act upon that complaint. We find the paradigm of such a character in Shoftim. Unsurprisingly, Gidon became a Judge over the Jewish nation. His qualification? He cared. When he complained about not experiencing Hashem's presence, he is not being an armchair observer. He genuinely cares - which unlocks his potential. He is then given further instructions - and answers to the call of duty. We find the dew waiting for us in the morning. Like our Beloved - that Shlomo describes in Shir Hashirim, who is willing to wait outside patiently, for us to let Him in - hair wet from the dew that He has been sleeping on. Hashem promises to be the fresh, protective dew that not only protected the Manna in the desert, but kept it fresh, vibrant and ready  - dew is a symbol of revival and life. This is why Gidon asks for a sign in this area. He goes with the strength of wishing to protect his nation, whilst understanding that it is ultimately in Hashem's hands. With his tiny army of 300 - against almost 150 thousand, he goes to war - armed with nothing but torches, jugs and Shofaros (The Midianites had confiscated all metal from them). There can be no hope to win such a battle... ...but he does...Next time we are called to stand up for something, are we going to accept it as our own call of duty?

Apologies for my absence over the last few days. I’m back…Like the Rose of Jericho, when all seems dead, a little bit of water, and it’s back to life. I write these words as rain – the subject of the next song after the dew – is hammering down on the sun-drenched, sun-hardened, parched earth. This can cause flash floods. Not so with dew. Dew is always welcome. And always present. It is fresh, constant and used as a motif for unconditional blessing from Heaven by no less a personality than Yitzchok, and indeed Moshe too. Not everything in life is unconditionally free. In fact, very little is. The rain is not, but the dew is. The dew which is a symbol of revival – and therefore survival. The Jew may wander far away. But the Jew is just waiting to be awoken, by the little splash of inspiration that the dew can provide.

Have you ever held a resurrection plant? Perhaps you know it as a dinosaur plant? Or a Rose of Jericho? We have a small version of it at home – bought in a desert shop in Israel. A shriveled up flower on a rock. It can stay that way for years. But here comes the miracle. Add a few drops of water…4 hours later – a beautiful flower is in full bloom. You can get them online. Unless attached to something, they are blown about in the wind in the desert - a type of tumbleweed (though they are not dead - it's complicated). They look dead though. The Jewish nation in exile. They have also looked dead from time to time. A little bit of water, life, Torah…and suddenly in the desert of Golus there is a resurgence, a reemergence and a return of the nation. We call that Teshuva. This is the song that the dew sings. The dew revives. It is a blessing. And it sings a song from Hoshea – from the chapter dealing with Teshuva – Return to Hashem O Israel. Yet in this verse, Hashem says that He will stick by us in any case. Wow! Another early example of Unconditional Positive Regard. Lucky us! Maybe it’s time to return the compliment…

Valentine’s Day? Absolutely Not! Barely heard of, and painfully misunderstood when it has been heard of, Tu B’Av is not Cupid drawing back his bow to fire the arrows of romance into the hearts of hopefuls. It has nothing in common with a whole mish-mash of a pagan fertility festival with the martyrdom of three saints (of whom one used to perform clandestine marriages – until he was caught). Nor has it anything to do with American gangsters – Al Capone and Bugs Moran, their rivalry or associated massacres on that day and beyond... No. Instead, it becomes the happiest day in the calendar, to rival Yom Kippur (which itself need an explanation). How can it be on par with Yom Kippur and what is so inspiring about the day? Ah – inspiration – that is the key. A bolt of lightning to illuminate the skies. Lasting barely a moment, if you are looking, it directs you. Now let it direct us…

Do you know anyone called 'Menachem-Shilo-Yinon-Chanina'? You do? My bet is that they were born on Tisha B'Av. This would be the parents' attempt to ensure fame for their little 'Tzaddikel'. The truth is, since when are we so deterministic? If you don't have at least one of those names, then you can't be Moshiach? And if you were born on any of the other 353 days, then forget it? Obviously, this brooks further investigation. What is the significance of these factors? And why does it have to be the worst day in the year that heralds the potential best day ever? The beginnings of the answer lie in the song that the wind sings, in order to call in the exiled Jewish nation from the four corners of the globe. That same wind which dispersed, is connected to the spirit of Moshiach himself.