Sunday's Salanter Selection

Rabbi Yisrael Lipkin of Salant


Like a bird, man can reach undreamed-of heights as long as he works his wings. Should he relax them for but one minute, however, he plummets downward.


From Tenuas HaMussar (The Mussar Movement)

A great resource to make your Shabbos table even better...

With all of the blogs out there it's easy to find something new to read.  A recent "find" of mine has been a blog called "Geshmavk Dvar Torah of the Week".  The author of the blog consistantly has great d'vrai Torah that are insightful and perfect for your Shabbos table.  This week's offering can be found here.

The blog is well worth putting onto your RSS reader.

As posted two years ago...

...Have a good uh legal-holiday.

Mixed up mussar

Driving my kids to school is usually pretty a constant diet of deciding what music should be played or what "book on cd" to listen to.  This morning, however, I attempted to show them that life lessons can be found everywhere.

Yesterday  on the drive we saw a concrete mixer truck and it was full.  How did I know it was full?  Because the drum was turning around and around and around.
I asked the kids why the drum was turning and my uberson said that, "If the cement stops turning then it gets hard."

My uberdaughter then said that, "If it gets hard then it is useless."

I told them that each of us are like the cement and the cement mixer.  If we are not constantly in motion trying to be better Jews doing Mitzvos like helping our friends and serving Hashem then our neshamos will get stuck like hard cement and it will be difficult to build ourselves up and be better people.

Did the get it?  Sort of.  My 4th grade son told over the moshul to his Rebbe and got a "zechus ticket".  My 2nd grade daughter told her younger sister that if she didn't share then her neshama would get stuck like cement.

Finding your direction via your computer

There are three links I recently saw I hope to be using for my personal Jewish growth in Avodas Hashem.

The first one was suggested to me in an email exchange with R Micha Berger.  It's an online growth-based community called madrega.com, created by Modya Silver.  This online community allows on to work on specific middos within a two week period.  I've been on for less than a week and have found it very helpful on a number of levels.

The second link, is actually to something that R Micha Berger posted on his blog regarding a new AishDas eVaad sponsored by the Aish Das Society.  For details about this new venture please click here.

Third is The Mussar Institute, run by Alan Morinis.  You can subscribe to their monthly mussar newletter here.
There are great interviews with Mr. Morinis as well as information about their distance learning programs.

Sunday's Spark of Mussar

Rav Naftali Amsterdam

Generally, R' Naftali treated his chevrusa as if he were his rebbe, and humbled himself before him.

From Sparks of Mussar by R Chaim Ephraim Zaitchik

Abuse Survivors: Please Do Not Suffer Alone (link)

Please read the current post on Rabbi Maryles' blog, written by Rabbi Yakov Horowitz and Dr. Benzion Twerski .  Please click now.

Home on the Range

Sometimes I kid myself and think of this is a "mussar blog".  It's really just a personal blog with a bit of mussar that I give to myself thrown in from time to time.   Like now, for example.

Just over two weeks ago was the first time I had been back in my hometown of Wichita, KS in exactly twelve years (to the Parsha). My dad a"h had been hospitalized and based on what I had heard from family members and at the suggestion of my wife I flew out to be with him.

Waiting to board the plane in Chicago, people were dressed up in costume (as it was October 31). I was even asked if I was "dressed as an Orthodox Jew"? That in and of itself made the trip worth it, as a mussar lesson. After an hour and twenty mintues I landed.

As I got off the plane and walked past the TSA check-point, I could only smile, remember the dozen water guns that I had packed for family vacations in the 70s and 80s and how all of those water guns had been confiscated. At the time, it seemed like a big deal. In retrospect, most airlines would probably welcome a water gun these days. Not much had physically changed in the Wichita Mid-Continent Airport since I had been there last. They still had coat hook right inside the restrooms (which implied that crime was still low in the city) and the chairs throughout the airport were still the same. The phrase that came to mind was, "if it isn't broken, then don't fix it".

A majority of my time was spent at the hospital with my family. Driving back and forth to the hospital I looked at the streets and buildings. Some had been torn down, many businesses had closed, with others opening up in their place. Certain professions seemed to have stayed afloat over the years. Most accounting, real estate, and dentisty businesses seemed to have stayed the same. Several indepenant "fast food" places closed only to have similar businesses open in their place. Aside from having several Starbucks locations not much had really changed. I drove past my old house, the flood prevention program (really it was a creek in my neighborhood that provided my bother and I with hours of adventure), and my old schools.

I also connected with a few close family friends from when I was growing up. One of them actually gave a beautiful hesped for my father a'h. I was reminded about the importance of community, specifically a Jewish community. The community in Wichita is pretty much made up of about 1000 Jews split almost down the middle as either reform or traditional. It's a close knit community where people connect as Jews. Not so much in terms of observance or rituals, but because they are serious about their Judaism.

All of my aunts, uncles, and cousins came in for the funeral, as well. Most of them I hadn't seen since my own wedding almost 13 yrs ago. It was comforting to see them, even under the above mentioned situation. Family comes together when it's important, but you have to make it important (a lesson I'm learning now).

The morning after my father a"h was niftar I stopped off to buy a copy of the local paper at Starbucks (to have a copy of the obiturary and an article that was written about him) and the young man behind the counter introduced himself to me and said that he was sorry to hear about my dad. The manager at the Starbucks was also working and introduced herself as the wife of the Reform Rabbi in town. She also expressed her deepest condolences. That's the community were I grew up.

My family lived in Wichita for 35 years. My father a"h went to the same shul with many of the same people for 35 years. To me that was impressive. Talk about lifelong friends. Wow. I hung out with two old friends that I had lost touch with years ago. We all had good memories growing up of our families doing things together. I'm fortunate that my kids have similar memories with close friends of ours here in Chicago.

I ended up spending a just under a week in Wichita. Had it been under better circumstances, I probably would have gotten together with a few old friends from high school. Instead I simply came back to where I was from and now I'm trying to move forward.

Sunday's Spark of Mussar

Rav Nosson Zvi Finkel, the Alter of Slabodka

If it happened that an acquaintance fell sick, R' Nosson Zvi knew no rest.  He prayed, he was upset, he sent people to care for the sick person and to stay by the bedside, he found out which doctors were experts in that disease and what medicines helped, and he did not take his mind off it.

From Sparks of Mussar by R Chaim Ephraim Zaitchik

My hesped for my father a"h

Delivered last Wednesday (Nov 4th) in Wichita, Kansas

I want to thank everyone for being here today. It's a true testament to the type of person that my father was.
It is written in the Ethics of our Fathers, Pirkei Avos that:
"Rabbi Shimon used to say: There are three crowns--the crown of the Torah, the crown of the priesthood, and the crown of kingship, but the crown of a good name surpasses them all. (Pirkei Avos 4:17)"

I cannot stress how many of you have spoken with me about the high level of respect and love they had for my father. Growing up he was just my dad, who shlepped us to the Gypsum Hills and other exotic sites on Sundays, Shocker games, family gatherings, and always took us to great places to eat that were well "off the beaten path". I was blessed to have not only know him as a father, but also as a grandfather. Grandpa, as we called him, loved his grandkids. He would always talk about sports with my son, and loved to watch my daughters dance, sing, and play. He was very proud of their Jewish education. My Dad and step-mother always made the most of their visits , even their last one in July when we spent an early morning at a flea market and then the rest of the day and evening at Six Flags. But there was another side of him that was fairly public, despite his attempts to keep it private.

He was a person who truly lived up to his Hebrew name, Avraham.
Avraham, Abraham, is known in the Torah and throughout Rabbinic writings as embodying the essence of Chessed, the Hebrew word for Kindness. My Dad never was one to seek out fame and pats-on-the-back for his deeds. He quietly, and many times behind the scenes, did many acts of kindness for everyone he came in contact with. No matter if it was a smile, a greeting when you came to into the Synagogue, offering advice, maintaining the cemetary erev Yom Tov, before a Holiday, making sure food was prepared just right, or simply thinking about how he could help someone else, he was constantly doing chessed. Even when it came to shipping out artwork sold on eBay, he would take time to make sure that each piece was packed in a way that it would arrive intact to the buyer. The truth is, most us of will never know of the chessed, the kindnesses, that my father did for others, as he was not one to ever broadcast what he did. That was the type of person my father was, thus, earning the "crown of a good name" as a brother, husband, father, uncle, friend, and especially as a grandfather.

There is a book in my dad's basement titled "The Bar Mitzvah Treasury", printed in 1954, that was given to my dad as a Bar Mitzvah present. In it there is a story is the following story about Rabbi Israel Salanter, a Rabbi who lived in the 1800s and started an Ethical movement within Judaism. It seems that one day, even though there was a full pail of water in the house, he used very little of it to wash his hands prior to eating bread. His pupils were quite astonished that their revered Rabbi, know for his pious acts, did not perform properly the commandment to wash thoroughly before eating bread.
Hesitantly they turned to him and said: "Please forgive us for asking you this. But we cannot understand why you used so little water to wash your hands."

Rabbi Salanter replied: "I saw that their maidservant delivers this water to the house from a far-off well. She, poor creature, bends low under the heavy load when carries the yoke on her shoulders. I do not think it is right to perform a Mitzvah at the expense of some else's shoulders!"
This story totally encapsulates my father. Always thinking of others and not wanting to burden anyone.

As my step-mother said to me last night, and I quote, "Random acts of kindness don't only change the world but they elevate people."

The true greatness of a "Ba'al Chessed", the Hebrew term we give to a "master of Kind Acts" is that even after he leaves this world, his acts of kindness continue. I am truly blessed, that even at this difficult time, he has allowed me to reconnect with family and friends whom I was very close with when I was growing up. The crown of his good name, Avharam ben Zorach, Albert Lyon Harris, can live on in each of us, if we simply think about what we can do to help someone else.

Thank you for davening

Thank you for davening for my father, Avraham ben Zorach a"h, who returned tonight to the Olam HaEmes.  I appreciate everything.

There will be no other postings this week.

Please daven for Avraham ben Tzipporah

I had sent out messages via email and facebook, so the only medium left (with the exception of Twitter) is this little piece of lint in the pocket of the jBloggosphere.

If you have time, please try to daven, say tehillim, or have a little extra kavana when doing a Mitzvah, as a zechus for a Refuah Shelayma for my father, Avraham ben Tzipporah.

Thank you.