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As mentioned previously, the 50 days between the holidays of Passover and Shavuos are known as the time of “Counting the Omer.” Today is the 33rd day of the count, the holiday of Lag B’Omer, which is notable for two reasons. Twenty-Four thousand students of Rabbi Akiva, the great Talmudic sage, died during the Sefira period, and our tradition is that this tragic plague ended on Lag B’Omer. This day also commemorates the passing of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai (often known as “Rashbi”), one of Rabbi Akiva’s few surviving students, and whose piety served as a blessing to his entire generation. Our tradition is that on the day Rashbi died, he revealed the hidden teachings of the Torah known as the Zohar, the basis of Kabbala, to his students.

The classic ethical work, Chapters of the Fathers, Pirkei Avos, lists 48 ways to acquire the knowledge of Torah. Each of the 48 ways – Purity, Peace of Mind, Limiting Earthly Pleasure, etc – stresses a virtue for personal growth. The commentaries note that these 48 ways correspond to the 49 days of the Sefira cycle, the last day serving as the culmination of all 48.

Interestingly, according to many sources, the 33rd day of Sefira corresponds to the virtue of “Loving Rebuke.” The Talmud and Midrash attribute the death of Rabbi Akiva’s students to a lack of respect or generosity towards each other. How appropriate it is that the 33rd day, the day the dying ceased, represents the polar opposite – showing love for another to the extent of loving their rebuke!

The theme continues with Rashbi himself. The Talmud writes that Rashbi spent 13 years with his son in a cave, evading a death sentence from the Roman government. He subsisted on the bare minimum of food, shelter, and clothing. Living under such conditions serves to erase any form of personality, of self. During this time, Rashbi did nothing but study Torah with his son. With all remnants of self erased, their Torah study was an absolute connection with G-d and His word.

What process is necessary to move from the vices of disrespect and greed, to the virtue of receiving rebuke with love? It’s the process Rashbi underwent in the cave – diminishing the self. Once we break from being absorbed by ourselves, we can be open to loving others and embracing even their criticism.

Rashbi experienced an intense level of spirituality during those 13 years, an experience through which he merited the advanced spiritual knowledge of the Zohar. The same process holds true for us. When self-centeredness fades, our soul then has room to welcome others in, especially G-d. Lag B’omer and Rashbi present the movement out of self, the key to spiritual existence on earth. (Based on Ohr Gedalyahu and Nesivos Shalom)

Happy Lag B’Omer and Good Shabbos!
Rabbi Mordechai Dixler
Program Director, Project Genesis – Torah.org

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On Monday, Paul Miller, a Senior Editor at a “technology-focused news publication” called The Verge, announced that he was quitting the Internet for a year. He’s switched to a “dumb” phone, and has pledged to neither use the Internet nor ask others to use it for him, if he can.

His reasons for this drastic move are informative. He hopes that “leaving the internet will make me better with my time, vastly more creative, a better friend, a better son and brother… a better Paul.” He said that he was spending an average of over twelve hours each day using some sort of device with an Internet connection, not even including his smartphone.

By separating myself from the constant connectivity, I can see which aspects are truly valuable, which are distractions for me, and which parts are corrupting my very soul. What I worry is that I’m so “adept” at the internet that I’ve found ways to fill every crevice of my life with it, and I’m pretty sure the internet has invaded some places where it doesn’t belong.

This is a profound statement for a person who makes his living as a technology writer, a job that will be far more difficult without the ability to research new devices online, see what others have written, and even exchange e-mail to share ideas. His previous weekly column was entitled “The Verge at work: sync your text everywhere, never lose an idea again” — which, of course, requires the Internet.

Yet after his first day, he described the experience in glowing terms. “The moment I reached down and unplugged the ethernet cable from my computer, I felt like school was out for the summer, and the simultaneous relief and boredom that last bell brings. I stood up, and I realized that I’d been anticipating this moment for ages.” The rest of his day was relaxing — including hours spent playing local multiplayer video games with colleagues.

At home I listened to records with my roommate and the peaceful boredom continued. I found myself really engaging in the moment, asking questions and listening closely, even more than if I’d just closed my computer or locked my phone, because I knew neither of those things could demand anything of me.

What I suspect he will discover is that Day 31 isn’t nearly as enjoyable as Day 1, especially given his career. But he has clearly recognized that it takes a complete disconnect in order to avoid distractions, and that other areas of our lives suffer when buried under a flurry of text messages, interesting articles and more.

It is possible, though, to take a less extreme approach and enjoy the same benefits: a weekly disconnect. It is as if the Laws of the Sabbath, which G-d called a special gift thousands of years ago, were expressly designed for our era. Now, more than ever, we need to turn off these devices in order to tune in to what really matters.

In our world, that doesn’t mean spending hours playing video games with colleagues, but devoting that time to family, friends, and spiritual growth. You, too, can experience Day One of “Life without the Internet” — each and every week.

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One finds an interesting theme in regards to the Metzora, one physically stricken with the spiritual disease of Tzara’as which causes blemishes to appear on skin, clothing, or the walls of the home. The word “Metzora”, the Talmud writes, can be understood as a contraction of the words “Motzi” and “Rah,” [one who] spreads negativity. Spreading negative details about another, Lashon Harah, is the prime cause of the spiritual malady of Tzara’as. Telling a friend about someone else’s mistake, negligence, or limitations, reveals unknown faults to the public. It is fitting that the Metzora be visibly exposed as one guilty of spreading evil. His personal shortcoming is also made public, through his Tzara’as.

The secrets of the Metzora are not only made known to others, but to the Metzora himself. Before the disease, he lived undisturbed, spreading rumors and slander without considering that his behavior was spiritually destructive. Tzara’as forces him to put life on hold and consider his hurtful ways. In essence, the disease is a gift (and so it is portrayed in the Midrash), since it served to rehabilitate the tale-bearer and motivate him to change for the better, to make “healthier choices,” as it were.

In our time, this disease does not appear for various reasons. G-d, however, has ways of letting us know that our souls are unhealthy. The difficulties we encounter, the Sages teach us, are Heaven-sent opportunities for introspection. The mistakes we make, the failures we face, make it clear that we have flaws in our inner system that need improvement. As difficult as the messages may be to accept, they are gifts from G-d that have the potential to set us on a new, healthier course. We decide whether to toss the gift in the back of the closet, or use it in good health.

Good Shabbos!
Rabbi Mordechai Dixler
Program Director, Project Genesis – Torah.org

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This week, I cannot refer to “this week’s reading” and be universally accurate. The Torah portion read this week in Israel is “out of sync” with the rest of the world, a phenomenon that will continue for another month. This is because while Israel celebrates the holy days of the three festivals on one day each, those living outside Israel celebrate them for two. Since the last day of Passover was on Friday this year, in Israel they read Parshas Shemini on Shabbos, while outside Israel, we read the special reading for the eighth day of Passover, and will read Shemini this week.

This causes a minor inconvenience for many people. Many apps and webpages written in Israel, for instance, refer to a different Torah reading than those written outside it. This week, many who are about to travel to Israel will walk to places where they can listen to Israel’s reading in order to “catch up.”

Now of course, you can find some people today who say that we really should only have one Passover Seder. This usually comes from the same sources that claim that Ashkenazic Jews shouldn’t care about eating kitniyos (legumes, rice, etc.) on Passover anymore — and that oh, by the way, the traditionalists are so monolithic! As I have written before, we should celebrate the diversity of customs that have developed over thousands of years of Jewish history, all surrounding a common core of Torah and Rabbinic legislation designed to encourage us to come closer to G-d.

For the record, I recently saw a webpage which explained accurately that the reason why Jews outside Israel observed two days of the holidays was because the community in Babylon could not receive timely word from Jerusalem concerning which of two possible days was consecrated as the new month, because this was done only based upon eyewitness testimony before the Sanhedrin, the supreme religious court. The same page, however, also asserts that this practice “continued even after mathematical models made it possible to calculate the date of the new moon.”

This latter statement is inaccurate: the mathematical models were in Jewish hands from the time that the Torah was given, to a degree of accuracy that required NASA to replicate. That is why we can still rely upon the calendar established by Hillel Sheni (the second Rabbi Hillel), although it is nearing two millenia since his lifetime. He created a set calendar not because he had developed a mathematical model, but because he recognized that there would soon not be a Sanhedrin to receive witnesses! The festivals still carry with them the message that the Jewish people has the ability to affect the entire world, spiritually, by affecting the time when the spiritual powers encapsulated within the festivals come into the world once again.

One day soon, we should hope to see the day when everyone returns to Israel, observes one day of all holidays, and a cloudy evening might affect when they are!

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In just a few days Jewish families around the world will recount the story of the Exodus from Egypt. At the center of the Haggadah, Passover’s universal guidebook, is the raising of the wine glasses in recognition of G-d’s promise to Abraham to redeem the Jews from Egypt, a promise that endures through every generation and drives one of the clearest miracles of our time – the survival of the Jewish people. After the glasses are lowered, the  Haggadah text then traces the survival miracle from its emergence in the time of Laban, the Aramean, Jacob’s father-in-law.

Laban?! Would we ever have thought that Laban was a serious threat to Jewish survival? Laban is known as the notorious swindler for his unabashed deception of Jacob, but how was he among Judaism’s greatest enemies? More troubling is what we read next: “Pharoah’s decree was only on the males, but Laban sought to uproot everything.” Our rescue from Laban’s hands was more compelling than the Exodus from Egypt!

When my first child was born I was struck by how vulnerable, and clueless, a little baby is. Do babies know when they’re about to slip off the couch onto the hard floor, or the tragic results, G-d forbid, of not being harnessed into a carseat? They have absolutely no concept of the constant threats they face.

Laban’s threat to Jewish survival is surprisingly unclear, but therein lies its eternal significance. Somehow, Jacob and his family were at risk of total annihilation, and behind the scenes was the Al-mighty protecting His children. If it were not written in the Torah, we would have been clueless. G-d’s quiet protection testifies to His eternal love, and serves as a most appropriate introduction to the account of the Exodus and recognition of the miracle of Jewish survival. (Based on the Vilna Gaon)

On a more personal level, we are like the helpless infant – truly vulnerable. Maybe you can remember many near-misses you’ve experienced, but how many near-misses did you not even know about? Was there ever a time you discovered how G-d was quietly protecting you? At the Passover Seder we’re reminded to recognize these daily miracles and express our endless gratitude. Let’s raise our glasses to that!

Happy Passover!
Rabbi Mordechai Dixler
Program Director, Project Genesis – Torah.org

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Just the first word of this week’s Torah reading contains a beautiful lesson. That word is VaYikra, “and he called,” referring to G-d calling to Moses. Vayikra indicates a connection between the two parties, whereas without the final Aleph, “Vayikar” is the way that G-d spoke to Bilaam, the evil prophet who tried to curse the Jews (see the Torah Reading “Balak” in the Book of Numbers). The commentator Rashi tells us that “Vayikar” is an off-hand, dismissive call.

When G-d called to Moses, He did so with closeness and endearment, but Moses tried to avoid glorifying himself. He wrote a miniature Aleph, to minimize the distinction between himself and Bilaam. It’s obvious that the relationship between G-d and Moses was as different from that between G-d and Bilaam “as the difference between East and West,” but even so, Moses didn’t want to claim credit. He was truly the most humble person on earth (Numbers 12:3).

How did G-d respond to this extraordinary level of self-effacement? Our Sages teach that Moses’ radiance, the light which literally beamed from his face as he descended from Sinai with the second Tablets on Yom Kippur (end of Ki Sisa), was given to Moses in exchange for the ink that he saved by not writing a full-sized Aleph.

So much of the world around us is dedicated to the opposite: to self-glorification and the pursuit of fame and honor. With only a moment’s reflection, we realize that that path doesn’t lead to happiness, it does not satisfy our souls. “Star” entertainers, whether in sports or performance, seem to as often make headlines for poor lifestyle choices as for their talents. It occurred to me recently that the only President that I can remember who was not tremendously aged by his time in office was Ronald Reagan — who, as was often pointed out, was quite aged to begin with. For that matter, his famous sense of humor included a knack for self-effacement: “I’ve already lived about twenty years longer than my life expectancy at the time I was born. That’s a source of annoyance to a great many people.”

Many operate under the mistaken belief that Judaism is about giving up happiness in this world, in order to get a better next world. This is a classic false dichotomy. Our Torah teaches how to find happiness in the world we live in — and one of its greatest teachings is the value of being small.

Good Shabbos!
Rabbi Yaakov Menken
Director, Project Genesis – Torah.org

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Ever watch a child learning to walk? While strolling along confidently, albeit a bit wobbly, he’ll suddenly drop to the floor. With admirable persistence, he’ll usually pick himself right back up on his feet and continue on as if nothing had happened.

The Midrash (Tanchuma 11) says that throughout the seven inaugural days of the Holy Tabernacle, the portable dwelling place built for G-d’s Holy Presence, Moses would construct and disassemble it two or three times each day. The Tabernacle, of course, was a large and extremely heavy structure. Many of its parts were solid wood and gold, and it was tens of feet high. To build and dismantle the entire structure 14 times, or more, in one week must have been incredibly taxing to Moses! Why didn’t he just assemble it the first day, and then leave it standing until the next time G-d instructed the nation to travel?

There was a deeper meaning, however, to the construction of the Tabernacle, corresponding to the efforts of a person committed to spiritual growth. That person drafts a model of holiness, an ideal setting for rising above material and selfish pursuits, insuring the appropriate goals and safeguards are set. As he takes his first few steps of growth, he feels a sense of pride and serenity, assuring himself that he’s on the proper course. But soon, it all crumbles. The habits of the past return, and his best-laid plans for the future appear unattainable.

The continuous building and dismantling of the Tabernacle throughout the inauguration tells us that holy structures are designed to be built and rebuilt before they are completed. The nature of spiritual growth is to move forward and fall back, repeatedly, akin to the toddler’s efforts to walk. Although a toddler first falls immediately, after just a few steps, his strength, balance, and ability improve exponentially. Don’t be afraid when experiencing setbacks on the road to spiritual growth, because we are promised that the results will come — if we get right back up and keep trying! (Based on Nesivos Shalom, Pikudei, 279)

Good Shabbos!
Rabbi Mordechai Dixler
Program Director, Project Genesis

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One of the major themes of the holiday of Purim is that events around us may not be as they seem, that this is a “topsy-turvy world” where things may be the opposite of what they appear to be. Reading the Megillah, one gets the impression that Mordechai needlessly made trouble, while the more politically-savvy Jews went to the king’s party in order to maintain peaceful relations. If Mordechai hadn’t stubbornly refused to bow down, Haman wouldn’t have become so angry, and the whole story might never have happened!

We know, of course, that the opposite was true. Attendance at the party (celebrating that the Temple had not been rebuilt, and that the Jews had been defeated) represented a dramatic spiritual failing. It was Mordechai who saw the path to redemption. But one must look deeper to see this.

When I was in college, I remember that the student mime troupe performed for Hillel before Purim. Despite the Jewish narrator and Jewish actress in the role of Esther (who had been through Hebrew school with me), they couldn’t imagine that Esther would never want to be queen, much less that she would find the very idea repulsive. Even though the Megillah tells us that Esther refused any attempt to beautify herself because she didn’t want to be chosen, their version of Esther prepared and auditioned to be queen. If one doesn’t understand the rich spirituality that is our inheritance, earthly riches seem more valuable — to them, it was only logical that she would prefer a life of luxury over a life with Mordechai.

All of us are liable to think we understand what is going on around us, that we have found explanations for why things are happening. Ultimately, however, Megillah tells us that we must look deeper, and seek the guidance of those capable of looking deeper still, if we wish to truly understand — and respond correctly.

Have a Happy and Meaningful Purim!

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What prevents us from reaching out to others? Often there are myriads of excuses that flood the conscious and subconscious when there’s a need for help: I don’t have the time, the money, the strength, the resources. There’s one excuse we don’t often hear: “I don’t have the will.”

After the Torah was given to us at Sinai, G-d asked us to build a home for Him, the portable Tabernacle sanctuary, and ultimately the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. The specifications for this home included large quantities of precious metals and many other rare, fine materials. Considering the difficulty in amassing this stock, it’s surprising to find that the donations to the Tabernacle funds were so overwhelming that Moses had to ask them to stop giving. Every fundraiser should be blessed with such problems!

“Have them set aside a donation for Me, from every person whose heart is generous you shall take My donation.” (Exodus 25:2) Why is the contribution first referred to as “a donation” and then rephrased as “My donation”? These donors were those whose “hearts were generous” but they didn’t have the means to fulfill their desire. “Since your heart is generous, you’re willing but not able,” G-d says, “your ‘donation’ will become ‘My donation’ — I will bless you with the means to fulfill your heart’s desire.” The willingness will be the conduit for G-d’s blessing, His gift. (Based on R’ Yonasan Eibishitz & Shelah HaKadosh)

Having the will to help others is key. If the need is real, one that G-d has called us to, the only true excuse is “I don’t have the will.” Once we truly desire to reach out, G-d will give us the means to fulfill our calling, way beyond expectation.

Good Shabbos!
Rabbi Mordechai Dixler

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Many people labor under the misimpression that the traditional Jewish Sabbath, (Shabbos or Shabbat, depending upon whose pronunciation you use) is a limiting experience. You can’t go places, you can’t do things, you can’t even pick up the telephone and call a friend. It doesn’t sound inviting or interesting when put in those terms. It sounds like an experience in self-deprivation, akin to the lives of Buddhist monks or the Amish — you might want to visit, but most of us wouldn’t want to live like that every week.

So how can it be that the Torah speaks about the Sabbath in glowing terms? I don’t just mean the written Torah, which tells us that it is a sign and remembrance of both Creation and the uniqueness of the Jewish people, but the Medrash, which goes much further. The Medrash describes G-d saying that He has a unique jewel in his storehouse called Sabbath, which he is giving to the Jews. Who would turn down a valuable diamond? A free and very valuable gift certainly doesn’t sound limiting.

Rabbi Emanuel Feldman recently wrote an article comparing the Sabbath to vacation destinations described in a travel column in the New York Times on January 1. These expensive resorts provide no televisions, and no Internet! [Actually, Rabbi Feldman only wrote that there's no wireless Internet, so I don't know if there are ports in the rooms to plug in laptops.] The writer identified less expensive options, including software which disables all Internet connections for eight hours in order to take time off from the world. Even further, the writer mentions friends who observe an “Internet Sabbath” every weekend, “in an effort to preserve their sanity.”

And also in the news, the well-known TV host Oprah Winfrey recently visited the Lubavitch community in Crown Heights. She was impressed both by the spirituality of the Sabbath, and the understanding of how electronic devices can pressure and limit us.

The Sabbath is something every Jewish person should visit (there’s even a website to help arrange it) … and who knows? You might find that you really do want to “live there” every week.