The Jewish Link

Sometimes, people get spooked by things or are easily frightened, and we’ll say they’re afraid of their own shadow. Well, I’m not generally a fraidy-cat (no offense if your name is actually Fraidy Katz) and usually I investigate first. Then I might get scared.

One day I was in my kitchen and I glanced out the glass patio door. That’s when I saw it. A huge monster was on my deck, just a few feet away from my table. I couldn’t actually see the monster; I could just see his shadow. Now, I’m not one to be afraid of a shadow, so I went to check it out. And that’s when I saw it: an eensy-weensy spider who probably couldn’t have climbed up a… up a … well, let’s just say it was tiny.

He was climbing up his web, or maybe going down it, I don’t know, I’m not an expert in things arachnid, and though he was physically barely larger than a speck of dust, the afternoon sun made him cast a huge shadow. Like most things, it got me to thinking.

I thought about the fact that though he was a tiny spider, he was able to make a much bigger impact on me. Though physically small, the shadow he cast was many times larger than he was. How many times have we walked with children who point with glee to their shadows and say, “Look! I’m taller than you!” Now, in my case, at a whopping five feet, seven inches tall, that isn’t a big deal, but for a five-year old, that’s huge.

It would seem, then, that shadows can teach us a lesson about physical limitations. The truth, it turns out, is that empirical evidence is not generally a determining factor in environmental impact. I may be just one person, in a specific locale (currently at my computer with no one else around,) but I can still reach others and my shadow-like sphere of influence is many times greater than my physical sphere would be, for example if I tried speaking or calling out to whoever could hear me.

R’ Moshe Feinstein z”l, was a giant, even though I don’t think he broke the five-foot mark. He said he feared that when he got to Heaven they would ask him if he had spread enough Torah, so he began writing seforim. A book can travel much farther than he could, can be in multiple places at one time, and can last for years, reaching people he couldn’t physically have reached. That’s the shadow effect, helping someone to be larger than life and greater than their physical dimensions.

Say you had to go to the hospital with someone on Shabbos. You might find Kosher food and drink there because someone thought about setting up a hospitality room for such circumstances, even when they wouldn’t be there in person. If you compliment someone, or teach them something, your words could live on in their memories for years or decades, maybe even a lifetime, affecting their behavior, and even what they pass on to others. That larger-than-life result can be attributed, once again, to the shadow effect.

That also got me to thinking about how shadows are made. We don’t have shadows in the dark. That’s because in order to cast a shadow you need a light source. I remember one night when I went to pick my daughter up and left the car running as I walked to her friend’s home. The headlights made my shadow HUGE and I looked taller than the house. It seems that the closer you are to the light source, the bigger a shadow you will cast. And that fits in exactly with my lesson from the spider and R’ Moshe.

Have you ever tried to catch a shadow? You can’t do it because a shadow isn’t tangible. In essence, a shadow is just a measure of how great the object between you and the light source is. It’s the effect that object has in blocking the light and casting its shade on other things.

Throughout the Torah, shade is construed as a form of protection, and a sign of closeness. Lot said the visitors had come to the shade of his roof beam and so he was bound to protect them. Moshe said that Betzalel must have been “in the shadow of HaShem,” i.e. very close to Him, to have such a deep understanding of how to build the Mishkan. In Tehillim, Dovid HaMelech says, “HaShem is your guard; HaShem is your shadow upon your right side.”

The greatest light source in the world isn’t the headlights of a car, it’s not the spotlight on a stage, and it’s not even the sun. In truth, the greatest source of light is HaShem, Himself. And, the closer to Him you get, the bigger your shadow, the bigger your potential influence on others.

Sometimes this influence is misused, when people in leadership positions take their opportunities for guiding people and use them for personal gain either financially, emotionally, or otherwise. You may have people coming to a Rebbe, a Rabbi, or even an entire movement of Judaism seeking enlightenment but simply being put more in the dark then they were before. Those are the people in front of an artificial light source.

The truly great people are the ones who are close to HaShem. The closer they get to the real source of enlightenment, the bigger shadow they cast. Like R’ Moshe, they use their shadow to comfort people, protect them, and guide them. They don’t block the light. They reflect it themselves so it spreads even further and we who see them get a sense of their greatness by how far the shade of their protection spreads.

We all have the ability to cast a shadow, and we all have the ability to make it spread as far as possible by coming closer to the Light Source. We have a responsibility to go beyond our perceived limitations and realize that we can influence more people than we imagined by recognizing how our shadows work.

So, am I afraid of my own shadow? Not at all. I’m in awe of it.

By Rabbi Jonathan Gewirtz

Jonathan Gewirtz is a freelance writer whose work has appeared in publications around the world. He also operates JewishSpeechWriter.com, where you can order a custom-made speech for your next special occasion.

For more information, or to sign up for the Migdal Ohr, his weekly PDF Dvar Torah in English, e-mail info@JewishSpeechWriter.com and put Subscribe in the subject.

© 2013 by Jonathan Gewirtz. All rights reserved.

In just a short time Shavuot will be upon us and we will once again rejoice in the marriage of the Jewish people with the Torah and our G-d. The concept of unity—with G-d, as a nation, or as a couple—is foundational to the Jewish experience and to our personal experience in this world. From the time most are little there are dreams of finding our beshert, the one destined for us, and we daydream about who he or she is, how we will meet, and what our lives will look like together. Will there be a big wedding or small? Will there be good familial relations between in-laws? Will there be children? If so, how many? Who will they look like? Where will we live? The questions are endless, as is the subject of marriage and unity throughout the Torah and our most revered texts. Given the importance of marriage both in our personal lives as well as our religious paradigm, I’d like to spend some time with you in this article exploring various facets of Jewish marriage in modern day as I see it through my lens of being a married observant Jewish woman who also works with couples in private counseling practice. Let’s start with one of the most anxiety-producing subjects related to marriage . . .

WHERE IS MY BESHERET??

Or, am I married to my besheret? Or, is he The One? Or, am I The One? The truth is there is only one answer to these questions: Only G-d knows. I know that’s not what we want to hear, but there is no way for us to know who is destined for us, what our soul’s path requires, and if we will merit our true “soulmate.” However one thing I do know for certain is that one of the best ways to draw our partner to us—married or not yet married—is to focus on our own personal spiritual work of becoming the best versions of ourselves and to focus less on what the other person needs to fix (if married) or on what we want our ideal mate to be like (if not married yet). We have no control over others or over G-d’s greater plan, but we do have some control over the person we are and are working to become. Somehow the magic happens and . . .

HURRAY! THE CHUPPAH IS FINISHED, SHEVA BRACHOT DONE!

Mazal tov! You found him or her and you’ve stomped the glass! All was (hopefully) delightful and now it’s time to send thank you notes and start to build a home together. At first things are amazing. You’re sharing time together, learning about each other more, and getting into a married-life rhythm. There are challenges here and there but you face them as a team and feel that together you can take on the world! Until that first major conflict . . .

I HAVE MADE A HUGE MISTAKE.

You are upset. You feel a knot in your stomach. You feel a bit nauseous. How can it be that this person, my other half, my “you complete me”, doesn’t do exactly as I say? How can he be so insensitive? Does she think I’m her child to order around? What happened to that perfect person I fell in love with and married? Was he or she replaced with an evil twin? After the initial shock of a first major argument one comes to realize that in fact our spouse is a person, and like all other people, he or she has strengths and weaknesses. We all have wonderful character traits and some wretchedly awful ones too. The beauty of marriage in its rawest form is that there is no hiding. Mistakes will be made. Words will be said. Regrets will be created. However there are blessings in everything and so the trick is to take those mistakes, words, and regrets and squeeze the lessons from them. It’s important to never get stuck in those less-than-perfect moments and consciously shift your view to see the glass as half-full . . .

OKAY, I’VE GOT THIS.

Somewhere within those first years of marriage the three parties who married under the chuppah—the bride, the groom, and G-d—will start to coalesce and gel into something that becomes its own creation, different and unique than any of the individual parties prior to the chuppah. This new formation or unit must find its own feet to stand on, its own code of ethics, its own pattern of living. For a Jewish couple, this can be done using the technology of Torah and mitzvot as foundations. Once this entity called “couple” begins to have its own unique identity, the work really begins. Much like a person drawing closer to G-d, working to draw closer to a spouse requires focus, dedication, empathy, attachment, vulnerability, willingness to admit wrong-doing, and generally an attitude of “I’ve got this.” In marriage you will be witnessed—for better or worse. You will be tested. You will be elated at times and at times brought down low. Regardless, marriage is the ultimate classroom, your process with your spouse is the ultimate curriculum, and shalom bayit (peace in the home) is your ultimate goal and reward.

HAPPILY EVERY AFTER . . .

Okay let’s just pop this bubble right now: “Happily ever after” is a Disney story, a completely fictitious affair. Got it? Get it out of your head that marriage can be, should be, or is . . . EASY. Most of us have a hard enough time managing our own ups and downs let alone those of our spouse and children. In today’s divorce-ridden society we simply do not know what will be, and the truth is we don’t need to know. What we DO need to know is that it is up to each and every spouse to show up—day in and day out—and to hold on to the idea in our heads that as long as we give 100% in the marriage then whatever the outcome it will ultimately be the best result for all involved. No matter what, if we fail to see that we are accountable to our spouse in marriage, it is imperative to be clear that we are accountable to HaShem in every moment of our lives.

Whether you wish to get married or are married, or wish to get un-married or re-married, take time this Shavuot to appreciate the ultimate marriage—that of HaShem to us, his people—and ask yourself how you are doing with that marriage in order to draw the strength you need to merit meeting and/or building a home with your partner in life. Part of the process of effective personal growth and relationship development is to take time to deeply reflect on lessons learned and lessons yet to be learned. The holiday of Shavuot provides a beautiful time and energy to do just that. Chag sameach!

 By: Mia Adler Ozair

Mia Adler Ozair, MA, LPCC, NCC is a licensed clinical psychothera- pist and educator
with a private practice in Beverly Hills, California. Mia is licensed in both California and
Illinois and she can be reached through her
web- site at www.bhcounsel- ingcenter.com,
e-mail at mia@bhcounseling- center.com, office 310- 464-5226, or followed on Twitter
@MiaA- dlerOzair

Over Pesach, my daughter told us that we call it Pesach because we’re focused on what HaShem did for us (passing over the houses) while in the Torah it is referred to as Chag HaMatzos, because HaShem focuses on what we did, leaving so quickly that we couldn’t even let our bread rise.  It reminded me that being focused on and proud of the achievements of the other party is a wonderful tool for strengthening any relationship.

It was therefore curious to me that in Shemona Esrai, throughout the Yom Tov, we say Chag HaMatzos.  Shouldn’t we continue the idea of praising what HaShem did for us and call it Pesach?  It was only on the seventh day of Pesach that I was inspired with an answer.

We don’t just call it Chag HaMatzos.  Instead, we have a complete phrase, “Chag HaMatzos, Zman Cheirusainu,” meaning, “the festival of Matzos, the time of our freedom.”  What, I kept asking myself, is the connection between matzah and freedom?  On the contrary, we call it the bread of our affliction, poor man’s bread, and don’t think of it as a shining symbol of liberty like some glorious light-brown circular flag blowing in the wind.

Well, if we define being rich as not one who has a lot, but one who needs little (which we do – check out Pirkei Avos), then freedom could be defined not as one who is in control, but as one who is not controlled by external forces and desires.  In other words, the less I need, the less others have control over me.

Of all foods, I thought, matzah needs the fewest ingredients.  It only needs two, flour and water, and is even missing a key ingredient in all other types of bread – TIME.  Yes, when the Jews took their dough out of Egypt, they didn’t allow time for it to rise.  They were told to go immediately and that’s what they did.  They didn’t worry about the fact that they didn’t have the time they needed so their food would be ready.  They just left, and that is a great aspect of freedom.

People are always complaining that we don’t have enough hours in the day. There’s too much to do and not enough time.  Even Chazal said it, “The day is short and the workload is large.”  It’s easy to get discouraged, but instead of stressing about the fact that there’s not enough time to get it all done, let’s remember the end of the Mishna – “It’s not your responsibility to finish the job, but you are not free to neglect working on it [with whatever time you are given.]”

The freedom we experienced from the matzos was the ability not to worry about the finished product, and just to do what we need to do now.  We left the results up to HaShem and got matzah, which is even better than bread because it can be eaten for much longer without going bad.  In fact, in the desert heat it probably stayed light, crispy and tasty.

I remembered this thought one day as I was driving behind a v-e-r-y s-l-o-w driver.  I was trying to get to shul for Mincha, and this guy was making his way ever so slowly down the one-lane road, with no opportunities to pass him.  He was doing about ten miles an hour below the speed limit.  I started to get annoyed and angry, then told myself, “It’s up to G-d whether I make it in time.  At this moment, I have to recognize that I’m not in control.”  It worked.  I calmed down, and drove without getting road rage or showering him with “blessings.” (I made it to Mincha.)

We’re now in the period of Sefiras HaOmer, and we count each day.  We don’t say, “Today is fifteen of fifty,” we say, “today is fifteen.”  Part of the lesson that we learn from Pesach and Shavuos, including the interim weeks, is that we don’t have to worry about finishing the job, but rather making the most of the time we are given to work with.  Each day should be a goal and each day should be an achievement.  “Am I doing what I am supposed to do at this very moment?”  If I am, then I am free.  I am not beholden to an end result that is beyond my reach, and I am not bound by a need to fill twenty-four hours in a day with thirty-six hours’ worth of work.

In our lives, we will not have the time to do everything that must be done in the world.  However, if we spend time worrying and lamenting that fact, then we’ve wasted some of the precious time we HAVE been given.

This lesson is one we learned from HaShem when we relinquished control and left with the unrisen dough.  It was G-d who gave us the matzah which taught us this special lesson about freedom and life, and that’s why we focus on this gift during Shemona Esrai, seeing it as just one more of the myriad billions and trillions of things He does for us on a daily basis.

Freedom is about time.  It’s about knowing that at this moment I’m exactly where I should be.  This knowledge about time is a gift – that’s why they call it the present.

By Rabbi Jonathan Gewirtz

Jonathan Gewirtz is a freelance writer whose work has appeared in publications around the world.  He also operates JewishSpeechWriter.com, where you can order a custom-made speech for your next special occasion.

For more information, or to sign up for the Migdal Ohr, his weekly PDF Dvar Torah in English, e-mail info@JewishSpeechWriter.com and put Subscribe in the subject.

© 2013 by Jonathan Gewirtz. All rights reserved.