By the Grace of G-d
Dear Friend,
My wife is from Los Angeles. Her parents and many members of her family live there. Thank G-d they are all safe and well. Naturally, we have been following with trepidation that unfolding of events during the past few days.
The fires raging in the Los Angeles area have wreaked devastation that is being described as apocalyptic. Thousands of homes have been burned down leaving charred remnants.
Only G-d knows why this devastation is unfolding. It is not for me or you to try and explain the ways of G-d.
The Baal Shem Tov thus teaches that we must try to learn and grow from every single thing that we hear about or see.
Since everything that happens in the world is orchestrated by Hashem we cannot just ignore it as being irrelevant to our lives.
One of my close friends in Los Angeles shared how his family put together emergency bags in case they would have to run from the fires. As they were packing it dawned on them that this was a powerful moment of clarity about what is important in life. When all one can take with them is what they can carry in their hand what does one take. What things really matter?
In a Synagogue it would be the Torah scrolls that one would carry to safety.
For a Jewish family it would be the tallit and tefillin for daily prayers. The original Ketuba marriage document.
Passports, birth certificates and other original personal documents. Jewelry and precious items that can be hand carried.
This is a very sobering thought.
It ought to teach us vital lessons on what is important in life.
Too often we spend inordinate amounts of time and energy pursuing things that are not significant in the bigger picture of life.
If we peel away the outer layers of excess and indulgence and just focus on the core items, we may be much better off.
That is not to say that we need to live life with one suitcase. The Talmud teaches that nice furnishings expand the experience of life.
It does mean that we shouldn’t make ourselves sick with stress in the achievement of these non-vital accoutrements.
A visitor of the Maggid of Mezeritch was surprised by the very Spartan way the tzaddik lived. “Where are your possessions?” he asked.
The Maggid responded, “Where are yours?”
“I am just a visitor here. I’m just passing through,” answered the visitor.
“So am I. This world is transient—I am just a visitor, just passing through.”
The Maggid understood that this world is not “home”; we are just sojourners on the road to the World of Truth. So if an activity or possession is not helping you serve G‑d, then it’s really not necessary. For at the end of the day, all we will take with us into the next world are our mitzvahs.
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Here is a story from Midrash.
A Torah scholar was once traveling by ship together with many merchants, each transporting his wares. To while away the time, they took turns describing their goods and boasting of their business acumen. Finally they turned to the scholar, who had been busying himself with his studies.
“Where is your merchandise,” they asked mockingly. “We don’t see that you have anything with you.”
“Oh,” replied the scholar looking up from the scroll he was examining, “My product is far greater than yours.”
The men looked around in surprise, but saw no packages on board belonging to him. Convinced he was bluffing, they scoffed at him and his invisible business.
Suddenly, their banter was disturbed by a shout. Pirates had attacked and the men scrambled in all directions, each struggling in vain to protect his precious cargo. But to no avail. The ruthless bandits carefully scoured the ship for anything of value. Only once they had taken everything aboard the ship did they allow the frightened passengers to disembark.
Upon dry land, the sorry, bedraggled group made their way to the closest city. They had nothing at all with them, not even a loaf of bread or a change of clothes.
The Torah scholar went directly to the study hall, where he immediately struck up a conversation with the learned Jews gathered there. The locals soon realized he was an accomplished scholar, and they offered him a respectable position. Within days, his needs were cared for and his newfound flock respectfully accompanied him whenever he went out.
Word reached the woebegone merchants of the kind stroke of fortune that had befallen their erstwhile travel companion.
At their behest, he spoke to the local authorities and vouched for their genuine need.
He then chided them gently, reminding them of their conversation aboard the ship. “Isn’t this what I told you? My business is greater than yours, for it endures forever.”
This, says the Midrash, is the meaning of King Solomon’s words: “For I give you a good portion, do not abandon my Torah.”
Torah and Mitzvahs, they are the things we take with us.
Rabbi Yehoshua Gordon shared the following story on Chabad.org.
A beautiful story is told about a great rabbi who lived many hundreds of years ago in a Muslim-majority country. He was a man of great wealth and substantial influence. Over time, he was even appointed advisor to the caliph, with whom he enjoyed a very close relationship.
The caliph, however, had other advisors who were antisemitic. They harbored a strong hatred for the rabbi and constantly sought ways to undermine him. At every opportunity, the other advisors spoke ill of him to the caliph, calling him a dishonest crook and accusing him of hiding money.
Finally, the caliph summoned the rabbi and asked him point-blank how much he was worth. “25,000 gold dinars,” responded the rabbi. Knowing full well that the advisor’s net worth was closer to two hundred and fifty thousand gold dinars, the caliph was understandably upset. “The accusations are true,” he thought, and he had the rabbi imprisoned.
Several weeks later, still troubled by the whole incident, the caliph visited the rabbi in the dungeons. “You’re a good man,” the caliph began, speaking softly and earnestly. “I know you’re an honest man, and I cannot understand why you lied and told me you’re only worth 25,000 gold dinars. We both know that you have at least ten times that amount.”
“Your Highness,” responded the rabbi. “You didn’t ask me how much money I have; you asked me how much I’m worth. I am only worth the amount that I have given away to charity. Everything else could be taken away from me at any moment.”
The only thing of real value that we can accumulate in our lives is what we give away and do for others.
Our mitzvahs—including the mitzvah of charity—are all we truly possess. So let’s create massive piles of them!
Our prayers and good wishes to those fleeing and suffering loss from the Californian fires.
And of course our eyes and hearts are with our brothers and sisters in Israel.
May Hashem bless Am Yisrael with peace, the safe return of our hostages, the secure homecoming of our soldiers and those who have been displaced and the healing of the wounded.
May the entire world finally be blessed with the coming of Mashiach and the utopian peaceful state when ‘the wolf will lie with the lamb’, AMEN.
Shabbat Shalom
Rabbi Yosef Kantor