— Rabbi Aryeh Levine, from A Tzaddik in Our Time (1972)
GOALS should not be high. They should be impossible.
Sir Alexander Korda was born Sandor Keller in 1892 in Turkeve, Hungry, poor, unknown. His goals were to belong to the most important nation, to become rich, marry the most beautiful woman and be world famous.
In 1945, after having been knighted, he said:
“I’ve done all those things. I became a British subject, I founded my own film company, I owned a yacht, Winston Churchill is my close friend, I married Merle, I was knighted. . . . Now . . . now I’ve no more dreams left. . . . If you accomplish all your ambitions, there is nothing left.”— from The Great Escape: ?Nine Jews Who Fled Hitler and Changed the World (2006)
JEWISH law conspires to shorten its periods of mourning. On the day of the funeral, if one arrives late from the cemetery and sits shiva for just a fraction of the day, it counts as the whole day.
On the last day of shiva, Jewish law applies the rule, “a part of the day is like the whole day”; one gets up from shiva not at the end of the day, but in the early morning.
If a loss occurs just before a major Jewish holiday, the holiday interrupts and cancels the shiva from that point onward. If, for example, a loss occurs a day before Shavuos, one sits shiva for one day only.
Likewise, if a death occurs a week before Shavuos, then the second stage of mourning, “thirty days,” is also interrupted and canceled by the holiday. One’s thirty-day period is reduced to a week.
All this is on the one hand.
On the other hand, it is common during shiva to feel as if one is still holding on to the departed. A shiva is a connection. The spirit of the deceased hovers, is almost palpable. This is heightened by the articulation of memories of the deceased by the visitors who console the mourners.
For many, one doesn’t want the shiva to end, even though one dreads it.
So it is with the sheloshim (“thirty days”) period, and all more so the final parting, when the year of mourning for parents ends. It should never have come, yet it is hard to let go of.
THE most exalted character trait is humility. Should I humble others, degrade them and speak ill of them? It’s good for them to be humble, no?
If the lowest character trait is vainglory, shouldn’t I derogate and dishonor others? I’m helping them improve their character!
Rabbi Israel Salanter (1810-1883) said the reverse is true. I must apply the highest character trait only to myself. I strive for humility, but must apply just the opposite to others. I must strive to increase their reputation.
He calls this an ethical principle, “a trait and its opposite.”
It posits that all character traits are equivocal. I should diminish my acquisitions, but increase the acquisitions of others. I should see my limitations, but others’ greatness. I should flee from honor, but give honor to others.
A trait and its opposite.
— from Tevunah (1861)
THE Elder of Novorodock (1849-1919) said: The secular Jews say to the religious Jews: “You’ve decided to take the next world and to abandon the pleasures of this world. You opt for spirituality over physicality. We opt for physicality over spirituality. We’ll take this world, you take the next.”
Secular Jews have it backwards. Do we, the religious Jews, have a portion in the next world, the eternal world with G-d? Maybe, maybe not. Who knows?
How can we evaluate our service of G-d? Only G-d knows if it’s pure enough to merit eternal reward.
But the pleasures of this world? On this, there is no doubt. The pleasures in this world — via mitzvot — are ours alone. Absent mitzvot, there is no true pleasure in this world.
THE body is governed by natural law; the soul is ruled by a higher law. Not so, said Rabbi Yechezkel Levinstein (1885-1974).
He survived the Nazis, the Communists and the Japanese through perilous escapes, reaching Shanghai, where he shepherded students in the Mir Yeshiva during WW II, as they learned the fate of their families.
“We feared we would not survive. We were fugitives, constantly dreading exile to Siberia or worse, not knowing the dangers each tomorrow would bring. Yet, we have survived — and none of us show any sign of infirmity or debilitating aftereffects.
“To survive this one needs to be made of iron, but in truth even iron would melt from such hardship. We have clearly been shown that the body is above natural law.
“Not true for the soul.
“The Sages state that the soul is as easily destroyed as glass. Should one take his mind off spiritual matters, they flee at once. Just as fine crystal cannot be left unattended for fear that it will shatter, so too the soul needs to be protected lest we lose the spiritual accomplishments we have so painstakingly created.”
The body is superhuman, not the soul.
— from Reb Chatzkel (2007)
‘I told you a million times, don’t exaggerate!
—Avi Shulman
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