From Behind the Lines

Let's talk about this blog's title.

What's the battle? Where's the battle? Why do I think I'm a warrior? Who is fighting?

Okay, so clearly, shidduchim is not a battle, nor a battlefield, in a literal sense. It isn't a fight. But I do feel like this stage of my life is often a struggle for my own sanity, my own sense of self, my own confidence in myself and what I'm doing, and a battle of wits (sometimes).

If we really have to break it down (though I personally like the ambiguity in it, because it leaves something for each of you to interpret), the warriors are the singles who are forced into the foray of battle. Regardless whether they want to fight or not, regardless of whether they've found their armor or not, they will take hits. Maybe not all. Maybe some will get to the other side unscathed, but if they are forced to stay in this war long enough, they will have to nurse some wounds at some point.

The fight is for self. The fight is for not losing what is dear to one's sense of worth, his values. Perhaps a tad dramatic, yes, but think about it. This journey forces one to take a look at himself/herself and decide what he wants to keep and what he wants to let go.

The struggle is dealing with everyone else that pops up along the way. Perhaps it's a well meaning friend, shadchan, random whoever, who unwittingly hits you where it hurts. Because in battle you're always on guard.

The battle is inside the head and heart of the single. S/he can choose to ignore, mute, disregard, compartmentalize it. S/he can exaggerate, exacerbate, and emphasize it. We all have that choice. Perhaps at one point one way is better than the other. Sometimes the battlefield is quiet, and sometimes it's deafening. Sometimes it's dark, and sometimes it is light. Sometimes we fight alone, and sometimes we have others by our side.

We all have armor of some sort hopefully, and while I choose to often fight without parts of it, perhaps you show up with it on. No two experiences are alike. We're all just doing our best to get through this unharmed.

Be True to You

Stay strong
And be true
Stay disciplined
Be you

Don't let life
Bog you down
With all its
Valleys and its crowns

Keep trucking
Along
Write your own lyrics
To your song

Live life
With intention
Don't just coast
Not paying attention

No decision
Is a choice too
Just 'cuz it's hard
Doesn't mean it's out of true

We're all in own cars
Even if on the same street
Different experiences
Punching a different time sheet

You only have
One life to live
So much to do
All this to give

Parshios Acharei Mos and Kedoshim

(The Segulah of Learning Zera Shimshon)

Acharei Mos

The pasuk tells us "Happy is the man whose sin Hashem doesn't hold against him, and in his spirit there is no deceit."

If someone has sinned why doesn't Hashem hold him accountable and if he hasn't sinned why would there be deceit in his soul?

It is referring to someone before they go to sleep at night. If someone confesses his aveiros before he retires at night and doesn't wait for Hashem to tally up his deeds of the day, there is no deceit in such a person. Such a person has laid out his heart and soul to G-d and thus is praiseworthy.

Kedoshim

"Kedoshim te'heiyu ki kadosh Ani," "You should be holy because I am holy."

The Midrash in Yalkut Shimoni (Remez 546) writes that this means that just as Hashem is removed from physical pleasures, so should we be. The question here is that how can we remove ourselves from all things physical, because we are in fact physical beings –– with a neshama –– but still physical.

The idea here is to remember that despite our physicality, we have this spiritual piece inside of us and although our ruach, our spirit, and our nefesh, our mind-body connection, can sin in thought and action, our actual neshama remains pure. It is a piece of G-d that is closeted within our physical body, and it is removed from our thoughts and actions. It remains pure and urges us to follow after it.

Source: Zera Shimshon Parshios Acharei Mos, Kedoshim

Parshios Tazria and Metzora

(The Segulah of Learning Zera Shimshon)

Tazria

On Yom Kippur, white signifies purity and atonement. With tzaraas, however, the person is considered impure when his blemish is white. The Gemara in Sukkah (33b) points out that black blemishes start out red but fade to black. Red/black blemishes are a sign of purity. On Yom Kippur, red signifies the sins of Bnei Yisroel (Yeshaya 1:18) What is pure with tzaaras, these red/black blemishes, signifies sin on Yom Kippur.

Why do we have these contradictions?

The Gemara in Pesachim (50a), says that people who are prominent in this world will not have the same recognition in the World to Come and vice versa. Someone who was "black" in this world, meaning that he did not have recognition or wasn't treated with respect, will be "white" in the World to Come. He will get his just rewards. The opposite is true as well; one who is "white" in this world may be "black" in the next.

A black blemish is pure, because it means that he will be "white" in the Next World. A white blemish is impure, because he will be "black" in the Next World.

On Yom Kippur it is the opposite, because on the holiest day of the year we are compared to angels. It is as if we are already in the World to Come. On Yom Kippur white is purity and black/red is impurity. 

Metzora

The Gemara tells us that there is no atonement for someone who speaks lashon hara; so great is this sin. The Zera Shimshon explains that perhaps the person himself cannot himself rectify his wrong, but when he enlists the help of the congregation he can be forgiven. He cries out "Tamei, Tamei," so that everyone sees his affliction and his pain and can daven for him.

The Gemara in Rosh Hashana (18a) says that if there is a signed decree against a tzibbur, if the congregation davens and beseeches Hashem to annul the decree, the decree can indeed be abrogated. The Zera Shimshon extends this to include the tzibur's tefillos for an individual. Even if there is no hope for someone, perhaps someone who spoke lashon hara and is afflicted with tzaraas, combined prayer can overturn the decree against him.

Source: Zera Shimshon Parshios Tazria, Metzora

Where is the Sun?

Waking up this morning, the world is devoid of sun. It’s bitter and dreary. Yesterday there was radiant sun, shining brightly, highlighting all the beautiful things in this life. Today, clouds blanket the sky, obscure the brilliant light. Big fat raindrops periodically splatter my windshield, stopping and starting at random. There's fog so dense, it is hard to navigate from just point A to B. The heat of yesterday's sun shrouded, the day chilly and uninviting.

The world muted and painted in grays. Everything feels irritating, smiles and grins hidden. Where there was happiness there is gloom. Where there was light and laughter there is melancholy and despair.

Is the weather just random? Where is the sun? 

I can go turn on some lights, even cozy up by a fireplace, perhaps even pull out a rarely used lantern, and go check out the lights in the city...I'll find some artificial illumination for now. 

Maybe the sun will come out tomorrow.

Parshas Shmeini

(The Segulah of Learning Zera Shimshon)

Aharon is commanded to bring a calf as to atone for the Egel Hazahav. We know that "a prosecutor cannot become a defender" (eg. the Kohen Gadol doesn't wear gold on Yom Kippur as to not "remind" Hashem k'vyachol about the Golden Calf). Why then is Aharon HaKohen commanded to bring an egel, a calf as a korbon?

The Zera Shimshon explains that the fact that Aharon is asked to bring a calf is proof that he didn't do anything wrong. Cheit HaEgel was not his fault. This is, in fact, why Aharon is ordered to bring a calf to show everyone that the involvement he had with the egel had nothing to do with worshipping it, and the cheit was not on his hands.

Aharon HaKohen was commanded to bring a calf, while the rest of Bnei Yisroel was commanded to bring an olah to atone for their sins.

Source: Zera Shimshon Parshas Shmeini

Don't Do Unto Others

A flight attendant was serving a respected rabbi on a plane. Recognizing his religious garb she asked him, "What is Judaism? What do Jews believe?"

The rav, without missing a beat, replied, "Don't do onto others what you don't wish to be done to you. That's the foundation of Judaism."

The attendant wanted to know what that had to do with being able to eat or not eat certain things.

"Okay," said the rabbi, "I'm sure you've noticed Jewish travelers checking food packages for a specific symbol, correct?"

"Yes, I have! But what does that have to do with respecting others?"

"Jews are trained not to just eat something because they want to. They don't just say something because they want. They don't just do something because they want to. By checking packages, they're showing it's not about them. They're following a moral code, and they're trained to see the needs of others."

Pesach we check packages. Sefirah, we work on seeing others. 

(Paraphrased from Mishpacha Magazine's Calligraphy, original article by Yisroel Besser)

I don't usually read Mishpacha, as you may know if you've been with me for awhile. Yet, against my better judgment I read this Pesach's story supplement. Shoot me. I'll even make a plug here for Rikki Ehrlich's "The Exit Interview." IMHO it was quite the worthy read. Everyone should read it. But that's not what this post is about.

It's interesting how sometimes bein adam l'makom is clearer, easier than bein adam l'chaveiro. We work on both during Sefirah, but bein adam l'chaveiro is a special focus. We mourn the deaths of the students of Rabbi Akiva who died because they didn't treat each other with respect. Crazy, almost, if you think about it. How much do we focus on respect of others nowadays? How much do we judge and gossip? How much do we judge and stigmatize?

Also not the point of this post.

Or maybe it is. What freedom do you take from Pesach? Supposedly the chometz represents yetzer hara, which we are free from for the entirety of the Chag. The aveiros we do –– hergel, habit. I'm not sure who this idea is attributed to, but it's interesting for sure.

There is so much pressure in this stage of life. While dating for some is just a passageway from young adulthood to what comes beyond that (in the form of marriage, responsibility, and family), to others it is a stage in it of itself. It's Mitzrayim, it's narrow and constricting. No two people's experiences are the same. While some may have sagas of heartbreaks and "almosts," others may have stories of emptiness for months or years on end.

No judgements. No need to compare. Can we see others as is? Empathy, not pity. Freedom, not slavery.

Happy Counting.

Single Lane Ahead

Being single during yuntif isn't the greatest feeling in the world. It drives home the fact that we're not meant to be like this.

Rephrase, Yiddishkeit is about family. (It goes without saying that if this is where I am right now in life, this is where G-d wants me to be. As long as I didn't mess things up through my own free will –– bigger topic outside the scope of this post.)

It feels so crowded, yet so empty. So overwhelming, so much noise, but so so lonely. So many cute nieces and nephews, too many siblings, siblings in-law, and just one person missing. The space doesn't really stretch to make room for everyone, all the different personalities. Even if we can mostly get along now that we've all grown up a bit. I too need someone to take up for me, have my back, sit next to and talk to when everyone else is involved with their own nuclear families.

I'm not the hired help. Just because I don't have a husband and kids to look after, I'm busy too. I should be on vacation too. In fact, while they're off galavanting on this Chol HaMoed trip or that, I'm going to work every day, working my normal hectic schedule. Yes, Baruch Hashem for that. Some normalcy in my life. A place I feel productive and normal, not like an outcast and a pitied anomaly.

Despite them not trying to rub it in my face, it happens inevitably. It's the nature of the beast. 

Read some of the discussion here that further fleshes out this point.

Chag sameach.

Yearning for Freedom

Zman Chaeruseinu. Freedom.

Hallel, Nirtza. Praise, song.

What to sing for?

What freedom?

Salvation from Mitzrayim?

How, when life feels so bitter, so narrow?

Echad M'yodeia? We know numbers. Numbers of months, years we've been playing this game. Numbers of guys/girls that we've met, that have entered and left our respective lives. Numbers of heartbreaks. Numbers of days, months we've waited to hear from someone with a "yes," go on a date.

Sefirah. Counting. Counting down the days until this will all make sense, this will all be worth it.

Leil HaSeder, Leil Shemurim. A special night of protection. Hashem tells us that He's close. We need to let Him do what He does.

Shackled, but free. Stuck, but looking forward.

Pesach is a time of slavery and freedom. They coexist. Bitterness and hope mingle together. 

Salty and sweet. Hardship and triumph. Heartbreak and hope. Slavery and miracles.

Aching lonely heart. Beating living heart.