*Translation by Yehoshua Siskin (http://inthelandoftheJews.blogspot.com)
1. Here's a wise thought from *Dr. Rakefet Ben-Yishai*:
There is a story about a child who visited a circus and saw a large elephant tethered to a small stake. When the child asked why the elephant did not pull up the stake and run away, the circus people said: We tied him to the stake when he was small and weak and the stake was bigger and stronger than he was. In those days it was impossible for him to pull it up. Years passed, the elephant grew and got stronger but, in his eyes, pulling up the stake still seemed impossible. Even when it became clear to everyone that a little pull on the stake from the powerful elephant would set him free, his lack of awareness of his strength prevented him from trying to free himself.
In the course of describing several stages of our desert journey, the Torah portion of Chukat mentions Nahal Zered (the stream of Zered). For 38 years, our forefathers did not succeed in crossing this stream and advancing in their journey to the Land of Israel. We would have expected a stream of this kind to be more like a deep, raging, and dangerous river, yet our sages tell us that its width was merely that of a zeret (pinky finger). Amazing. The same people who crossed the Red Sea in the Exodus from Egypt were not able to cross a little brook. Such a tiny obstacle separated them from the Promised Land.
It would seem that the problem was not in the stream but in the people. The Children of Israel disparaged the Land of Israel through the negative report of the spies and they had still not rectified this sin. As long as they did not truly want to enter the Land, even the smallest stream seemed in their eyes like a mighty river that they dared not attempt to traverse. Only after 38 years of soul-searching and self-rectification were they able to appreciate their true strength, cross the stream, and finally reach their destination.
This is not just a story about an elephant and not just a quote from our sages about a stream in the desert. It is meant to make us consider the small stake to which we are tethered and the little stream that, seemingly, we cannot cross.
2.Birthdays
My birthday was this week. I generally do not write here about personal matters but *Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Jacobson* explained to me last night why it is worthwhile to publicize our birthdays:
"The Lubavitcher Rebbe initiated 'Operation Birthday' for our generation. It was important to him that people celebrate their birthdays by spreading the word with great joy. He also wrote about what we should accustom ourselves to do on our birthdays: give tzedakah, pray with greater intent, recite Psalms, make a good deeds resolution, however small, but keep it stringently, and more.
Why did the Rebbe insist we make a big deal out of our birthdays? In my opinion, one of the major challenges of our era is to discover why we are here. When we succeed in rejoicing over the day that we were sent into this world, we appreciate that we were created because of divine faith in us and in our abilities, and that this faith is renewed from year to year.
There are people today who think they are nothing, and this is simply horrible. People endure painful circumstances and may become trapped in a web of confusion where even abundance does not bring them joy.
Celebrating your birthday conveys an important message for these times: You are celebrating the fact that the Holy One blessed be He, believes in you. He rejoices in your life and in your good deeds in this world. This day is a reminder that, no matter what, infinite potential and infinite light exists within you".
Wow. Thank you Rabbi Jacobson for the meaning you have given to our birthdays. And mazal tov to you all on the day you were sent to light up the world.
3.Separating from the nation's governess
It's the end of the school year and, as we separate from those who guide and care for our children, it is appropriate that we read a Torah portion about separating from our nation's greatest caregiver, nanny, and female mentor, Miriam the prophetess. What can we learn from her?
Miriam risked her life in order to be a midwife to the Hebrew babies in Egypt. The Torah says that she possessed fear of God. Despite Pharaoh's order to kill the babies, she remained true to her values in the face of a threatening regime and did not comply with its decrees.
But side by side with her uncompromising strength, she could be soft and comforting. Rashi describes how, despite the hostile Egyptian environment, she would calm and soothe the babies and keep the children amused and happy, with special concern for the youngest among them.
Later, Miriam was the one who stood on the banks of the Nile and watched over little Moshe as he floated in his basket. In those historic moments, she showed that she was not just a babysitter, but someone who would take charge and make sure that the "Am Yisrael" ship sailed in the right direction.
In the Exodus from Egypt, while the "Song of the Sea" (Shirat HaYam) was sung, Miriam led the women in dance with the same drum that takes center stage today when kindergarteners in Israel dance in remembrance of what Miriam did when the sea split. Our commentators explain that this was Miriam's way of educating and mentoring throughout her life: to transmit her message through participatory experience, through song and dance. Ultimately, these are the educational experiences that are seared into the soul and last throughout the years.
Miriam also taught us about lashon hara (insulting speech) when she was stricken with tzara'at (a skin malady) after speaking negatively about Moshe Rabbeinu.
And in parashat Chukat, immediately after Miriam passes away, the Torah relates that the people are suddenly overcome by thirst. It's both a physical and a spiritual thirst --a thirst for Miriam's calming and comforting presence.
In memory of Miriam, praying that we will merit mentors like her, both for our children and for us.
4. Libya, Lithuania, Israel
They are not well known among the general public, and that's unfortunate. The 28th of Sivan, several days ago, marked the passing of two rabbis whose life stories are worth knowing:
*Rabbi Avraham Chaim Adadi* was among the greatest of Libya's rabbis 200 years ago. He grew up orphaned from both parents and from an early age was attracted to two things - Torah and the Land of Israel. He studied and taught and was privileged to settle in the Land three times only to be compelled after each aliyah to depart and travel extensively among Jewish communities in the Diaspora. He returned a final time to the Land he so loved, passed away, and was buried in Tzfat. In his will he ordered that people should not exaggerate in paying him their last respects. Instead, those who eulogized him should speak in praise of the Land of Israel and the idea of teshuvah.
*Rabbi Yisroel Zev Gustman* was thought of as an ilui (prodigy) from a very young age. His young son was taken from his arms and murdered by the Nazis in the Holocaust. The rabbi, his wife and daughter managed to escape and were saved. He lived in the forests as a partisan, hid among bushes and trees, and survived by eating mushrooms and other forest vegetation. After arriving in Israel, he established and headed a yeshiva in the Jerusalem neighborhood of Rehavia. His students were amazed to see him watering the flowers around the yeshiva. He explained that he did this as a gesture of thanks to the plants that saved him. Until today, a beautiful garden surrounds the yeshiva.
A few of their descendants, students, and others who honor their memory, will note their passing today. Yet it seems to me that their stories, which began in Libya and Lithuania and ended in Tzfat and Jerusalem, are part of the larger story that all of us share.
In their memory.