Some Folks Would Be Happy Just To Have One Dream Come True (Robert Hunter & Jerry Garcia- "Mission In The Rain")

          Every year at this time my son and I get to bond while we assemble our Sukkah. As he has grown older, his help evolved from sitting and talking, to tightening bolts on the bottom, to carrying supplies, to tightening bolts above, to helping put up the skach (the sukkah’s roof), and now he as a point where he offers suggestions to improve and expedite the entire operation.  While we were putting the Sukkah together he shared with me something he learned in school. He explained that one of the commandments associated with Sukkot is to be happy. As a brooding, 17-year-old 12th grader who cannot leave high school quick enough,  our son thought that commanding joy and happiness or any emotion for that matter,  violate the idea of “free will”. He suggested that perhaps we can engage in behavior that causes joy and such as those associated with Sukkot: eating in the Sukkah and waving the Lulav and Etrog. He then asked a very poignant question. “Abba how can you be commanded to ‘be happy’ if you are in mourning?” I asked him what he meant. He explained that there must be so many aveilim - mourners since Covid, how can the Aveilim be happy?” I stopped what I was doing and told him that I wonder the same thing. It is hard to be happy when you have suffered a loss. How do we do resolve the tension between how we feel due to a loss and the feeling associated with Chag Sukkot?

          Among the most spiritually difficult texts is Sefer Kohelet the Book of Ecclesiastes. We read it in its entirety once a year on Shabbat Chol HaMoed Sukkot, the Intermediate Sabbath of Sukkot. According to the tradition, Shlomo HaMelech, King Solomon, towards the end of his life, wrote this Megillah, this scroll. Tradition has this perspective because the language is not one of optimism but rather realism. This is a person who has “seen it all” – Ein Kol Chadash Tachat HaShemesh – There is nothing new under the sun! And yet there is a certain harsh realism and a certain sense of harsh optimism. The author provides us with a cold, clinical sense of comfort. He does not coddle us. He does not baby us. Rather the author shoves our faces in this “reality” and gives us a perspective on how to deal with a world that is not as wonderful a place as we might have thought of in our youth, or even a few weeks ago. The question that so many of our sages have asked, is why is such a text, a text that does not offer such explicit hope, a text that does not offer explicit comfort, and is universally recognized as a “downer” of a text, why is such a text read on the holiday that is commonly regarded as Zman Simchateinu – the time of our joy?

        In Eretz Yisroel, the Autumn Harvest is complete. We unabashedly celebrate our joy on a physical level because of a successful harvest. We also unabashedly celebrate our joy for having been judged favorably by God, (Rosh HaShanah), having been the recipients of God’s mercy (Yom Kippur). On Sukkot, we are commanded to Samachta b’Chagecha – celebrate in your holiday. Yet, this text seems to diminish our celebration. While the nature of the Sukkot holiday is to celebrate our unrestrained joy in receiving God’s blessing, we also know that very often it is human nature to forget God and celebrate our achievements and ourselves. Kohelet reminds us that, like the fragile nature of the Sukkah itself, not everything is as much in our control as we think. V’Zerach HaShemesh U’Vah HaShemesh – the sun rises and the sun sets- no matter what we do, no matter how much control we may perceive that we have, at the end of the day, we are ultimately powerless. God is the ultimate cause of all things. The sun rises and sets because of God, not mankind. Kohelet helps us maintain our perspective. Kohelet reminds us that we are not the center of the world. Kohelet reminds us that for all the physical pleasures we seek, for all the material comforts we work hard to afford, such things are fleeting.

        So how can such a text offer us comfort? Well if we have the perspective of Kohelet, then we can understand how an elderly person, who has seen everything: man’s goodness, man’s evil, the joy of life, and the futility of life, offers us comfort.  Kohelet reminds us that there is only the Here and Now. The harvest and Thanksgiving that is associated with Sukkot reminds us that there is only the Here and Now.  The next cycle of planting, pruning, and harvesting is not in our control so why bother. Rather we celebrate that we arrived at Now. Yes, we may be scarred. Yes, we might have suffered horrible losses, perhaps devastating types of losses. Be we are here, sitting in the sukkah, shaking a lulav and etrog, and that might be worth celebrating. Being in the Now just might be reason enough to be happy.

          As we finished putting up our Sukkah, I finally figured out an answer for our son. Maybe the lesson of Sukkot and the commandment to be happy, “VeSamachata v’Chagecha”, is to remind ourselves to be happy with what we have, and not focus upon what we don’t have.  Indeed,  so many people have died from Covid, and yes, there are so many people who have mourned this past year and continue to mourn. Perhaps these Aveilim and anyone who has experienced the loss of a loved one is supposed to find joy and comfort in the blessings of wonderful memories, and the laughter that results when sharing stories about our loved ones.

Peace,
Rav Yitz

There is none except for you. Except for you I swear to it on my very soul (Robert Hunter &Jerry Garcia - "Reuben and Cerise")

          Our family spent the past week visiting family on the West Coast. While on vacation, one of the common and frequent morning questions came from my wife. Approximately 20-30 minutes after our son woke up, she would remind him to put on his Tefillin (Phylacteries) and daven Shacharit (recite the morning service). Our son wouldn’t respond. Several minutes would pass and my wife would ask “Have you started to Daven?” Again, she did not hear a response. Several more minutes would pass by and our son would walk by en route to doing whatever he decided was the morning routine while on vacation: eat breakfast, play with his cousin, or whatever fifteen-year-old teenager does in the morning while on vacation. As our son would walk by, or even enter the room where his mother was, she would look up at him and this time, express her frustration with our son because he has not only failed to put his Tefillin and daven but hasn’t acknowledged his mother and her numerous requests to do so. As our son leaves and returns to whatever he was in the midst of doing prior to his mother’s requests; my wife looks at me and says: “you’re his father, aren’t you going to tell him to put on his tefillin and daven? Why do I have to tell him?” I smile and remind her that he is fifteen, he has been putting on tefillin for nearly 2 ½ years. He knows how to put it on, he knows when to put it on, he knows how to daven Shacharit, and most importantly he intellectually understands that he is MeChayeiv (obligated) according to Halacha (Jewish Law) to daven. At some point, we must refrain from reminding and hocking him to fulfill this and any other ritual obligations. Rather, he must learn to come to this moment on his own volition, and not because his mother or father asked, cajoled, complained or yelled at him. In the long run, there is a better chance of observing and fulfilling his obligations because he holds by his halachic obligations rather than his parents holding him to those obligations. Needless to say, my wife isn’t very happy with my apparent laissez-faire attitude.
          This morning we read from Parsha Vayechi. This is the final Parsha in the book of Breishit. The Parsha begins with Yaakov calling Yosef and making him swear an oath that he will not be buried in Egypt. He also blesses his grandson’s Ephraim and Menashe. He gathers his sons together and offers each son a blessing or a prophecy. Yaakov dies and his sons take him out of Egypt and fulfill their vow. They bury their father in Heron alongside Avraham and Yitzchak and Sarah Rebecca and Leah. Afterward, the brothers fear that Yosef will finally take vengeance for their mistreatment of him. Yosef doesn’t, and the brothers and their families continue to grow and prosper in Goshen. As Yosef prepares for his death, he makes his brothers vow to take his bones out of Egypt and bury his bones in Eretz Canaan.
          Yaakov’s final dying wish is to be buried in Canaan, in the Caves of the Machpela with his ancestors, Avraham/Sarah, Yitzchak/Rivka and his wife Leah. Yaakov shares this wish with Yosef. Given his position within Egypt, Yosef would be the most likely of the sons who could arrange to fulfill Yaakov’s wish. After sharing his final wish with his beloved son Yosef; Yaakov asks Yosef to swear to him that he will carry out this final wish. To demonstrate one’s “swearing a vow,” Yaakov tells Yosef: Im Nah Matzati Chein M’Einecha If now I have found grace in your eyes Sim Nah Yadcha Tachat Yereichi put, I pray of you, your hand beneath my thigh v’Asita Imadi Chesed v’Emet –and deal kindly and truthfully with me. However, Yosef does not do as his father asks; Yosef does not put his hand beneath his father’s thigh as an indication of swearing an oath. Rather, Vayomer [Yosef] said, Anochi Eseh Chidvarecha – I personally will do as you said. Yaakov, sensing his son’s hesitation, asks Yosef to swear that he will fulfill the request. Finally, Yosef acquiesces and swears an oath to fulfill his father’s request.
          Why does Yosef hesitate? The text clearly conveys that Yosef did not make a “vow” to Yaakov when first asked. Yosef did not immediately put his hand beneath his father’s thigh as an indication of making a vow. Yosef did not immediately say “I swear to bury you with your ancestors”. Why doesn’t Yaakov’s favorite son swear to his father this last dying favor? What kind of son doesn’t swear an oath if asked by his dying father to do so if it means peace of mind and a soul at peace for his father? Yosef’s first answer indicates that he will look after the request personally. Midrash explains the difference between Avraham’s servant’s behavior and Yosef’s behavior: HaEved Asa K’Avadoto Uven Chorin Asah K’Chiruto – Rabbi Yitzchak said: The servant acted like a servant and the free man acted as a free man, The servant acted like a servant, as it says ‘And the servant put his hand beneath his [Avraham’s] thigh; While the freeman acted as a free person: ‘And he said, I will do as you said’’. As a free individual, Yosef is only bound by his conscience. He is free to question. The servant, on the other hand, has no such ability. He is bound to fulfill his obligations whether forced or unforced. The Malbim, the 17th-century commentator explains that Yosef was acting as a son should. Yosef was trying to act out of filial responsibility, based upon his own free will rather than a servant who is bound by oaths.
          There are moments where one’s own volition is not enough to fulfill a final wish. Yaakov makes Yosef swear the oath because he wants Yosef to acknowledge an authority greater than his own. He also wants Yosef to acknowledge an authority greater than Pharaoh. Yaakov wanted Yosef to be completely powerless and act solely on behalf of his father. Under normal circumstances, according to ChaZaL – our Talmudic sages of Blessed Memory, the acceptance of Torah and its commandments are an acknowledgment and acceptance of an external authority greater than ourselves. Intrinsic to that acceptance is a humbling awareness that we are not all that powerful or in control of every aspect of life. Of course, as our son hears me explain that the less she reminds him, the greater the chance that he will eventually choose and then obligate himself. Of course, by obligating himself he is ultimately establishing a relationship with God and obligating himself to God and not his mother nor me. It is part of the growing up process. For me, watching my son grow up to wholeheartedly accept and fulfill these ritual obligations brings me comfort that his mother and I have done something right. Growing up to be a mentsch, a kind, and decent person is perhaps the greatest kindness that our son and his three sisters could bestow upon their mother and me.

Peace,
Rav Yitz

So Come Walking In The Sun With Me My Little One (Dave Parker & Jerry Garcia - "The Only Time Is Now")

One of the things we parents vow is to avoid repeating the negative experiences of our childhood with our children. The other thing we parents vow is to share our positive childhood experiences with our children. Perhaps that is why I have taken my kids to see my favorite band. Perhaps that is why I enjoy playing golf with my son, after all, I have many positive memories and experiences playing golf with my father and grandfather. Among the other positive experiences, I had with my father was walking to Shul with him on Shabbat. From the time of my Bar Mitzvah until I was in my mid-thirties when my parents lived near their shul when I was in their home, I walked to shul with my father. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we didn’t. However, just walking with him was my time with my dad; not having to share the time with my mother or sister, was a special time. As a parent, I wanted to share that with my children.  Living 4 ¼ miles from shul makes walking with my son an infrequent event. However, when the opportunity presents itself, and my son and I can walk to shul, it is a moment that I cherish. When he was little, I wrapped my pinkie finger and thumb around his wrist and wrapped my hand all around his. When he was little, I whistled or felt the need to keep him entertained while we walked to shul. Now, at fifteen, he is nearly as tall as me, his hands are as big as mine and he put his arm around me, sometimes protectively, sometimes just affectionately. Sometimes we speak, sometimes we don’t. While he walks with his eyes ahead, I catch myself looking at this maturing young man; I look at him and I am transported to a Shabbat when I was fifteen walking with my father, sometimes talking and sometimes not.

This Shabbat we read from Parsha VaYeira. The narrative and adventures of Avraham the Patriarch continue. While healing from his ritual circumcision, he fulfills the mitzvah of Hachnasat Orchim, (hospitality). He negotiates with God and reduces the number of righteous people that must be found in Sodom and Gomorrah in order to prevent its destruction. The narrative of Avraham is interrupted as we read the narrative of Lot, the two Angels (the same two that had visited Avraham at the beginning of the Parsha), the destruction of the city, and the impure relationship that results when the survivors think that the world has been destroyed. The narrative returns to Avraham as its focus and he and his wife Sarah give birth to a son (Yitzchak), the banishment of Hagar and Ishmael (Avraham’s firstborn son and his concubine) and the final test of his belief, the Akeidat Yitzchak – the Offering of Isaac.

The Akeidat Yitzchak, the Binding of Isaac, a narrative that is considered to be among the most important if not the most important passage in the entire Torah, encompasses 19 verses. The language is terse and the details are sparse. So when a word or a derivative of a word appears six times in a sparsely worded, minimally detailed narrative, perhaps the text is teaching us something.  The word YaChDaV, or a form of of the word, such as YaChiD, or YaChiDecha (Yod, Chet, Dalet), appears six times: 22:2, 22:6, 22:8, 22:12; 22:16; 22:19 ) Yachadav in verses 22: 6, 22:8, and 22:19 means together, as in “they walked together”. Yachidcha, in 22:2, 22:12 and 22:16 “your only son. The Or HaChayim (Rabbi Chaim Attar, 18^th century Morroco) explains Yechidcha –Your only (son) as tantamount to the sanctity of loving one’s own soul.  In singling out Yitzchak to Avraham, God describes Yitzchak as Bincha – Your son (God speaking to Avraham). However, a Ben, a son will one day become his own man. However, God also describes Yitzchak as Yechidcha – he is your only, that is to say, joined with and part of your soul.  Yechidcha suggests there is no separation or distinction between father and son between the soul of the father and the soul of the son. By using the word Yachdav as a way to describe the fact that Avraham and Yitzchak walked together, we get an idea of how they walked together. When reading the text, we might want to ask, “What did father and son talk about for three days?”  The text ignores the first two days of the journey and only picks up the narrative once Avraham sees the mountain. But because the Torah uses the word YaChDav, we know that father and son walked in harmony, united, as one soul. There would be no reason to speak. Father and son know each other’s thoughts, they are kindred spirits. Rashi, the 11th Century French commentator explains that they walk together with a singular purpose.  Isaac is Avraham’s entire world and he understands Yitzchak’s pain is his father’s pain, Yitzchak’s anxiety is his father’s anxiety, and Yitzchak’s faith is his father’s faith. As much as Yitzchak is about to be bound to the altar in preparation for the offering, Yitzchak and Avraham are already bound together. 

So a father and son walk together, quietly. Certainly, each one is aware of what is before them. One will make the offering and one will be the offering. Yet, both are bound “together” with a singular purpose. A father and son walk together. Inevitably, the father and son glance at each other, knowing each other role. They are so spiritually close that with each glance they see themselves. Avraham sees what he used to be: young, idealistic, and pure; pure enough to be an offering. Yitzchak sees an old man (the Midrash teaches that there was no such thing as looking elderly until Avraham), who carries the spiritual scars of numerous triumphs, tribulations, and numerous spiritual tests. Yitzchak sees an old man girded in the armor of his faith in God. Hopefully, when my son and I walk together to shul, he doesn’t see such an “old man” just an “older man”. Maybe when he glances upon me he looks upon me the same way I looked upon my dad.  I know that when I look upon him, I wistfully think of myself at fifteen, coming into my own physically, formulating my own ideas about the world and wanting to challenge my father. However, I am also reassured that my father was just happy and content walking together when I was fifteen. So, I glance at my son and hope that he understands that just how content my soul is walking with him to shul.

Peace,

Rav Yitz

Close The Gap Of The Dark Years In Between (John Barlow & Bob Weir - "Cassidy")

Earlier in the week, our kids had a few days off and visited their grandparents in Rochester, NY. The plan was for my parents to drive the kids back to Toronto and spend the night, see their granddaughter play in her volleyball match and return to their home the next day. The day before they were to drive back to Toronto, I received a phone call from my father. His stomach was bad, he wasn’t feeling well, and he anticipated that driving on the designated day was problematic. Rather than listen, I grew incredibly impatient and told him that I would drive down to pick up my kids have dinner and drive back. He then asked me to spend the night and head back the next morning. I gave my father an earful as I shared by aggravation with him. He must have been feeling quite ill because he said that he didn’t feel well enough to yell back at me. I may have yelled a few other choice words, hung up, and prepared for an afternoon and evening of driving. When I arrived at my parents, my mother thanked for schlepping. In fact, she thanked me far too much. My father was lying in bed, I checked in on him. Again, he asked me to spend the night. I reminded him that if he felt too sick to fight with me, why would he keep asking me such a question and start a fight? After some more choice words, I told him I planned on eating dinner and returning to Toronto. As I sat with my mother and my two kids and ate dinner, my father sat down at the table. He looked pale and drawn. He smiled weakly and started to say something. I am not sure what he said, all I know is that I became acutely aware that both my parents are aging and that I want them to see their grandchildren whenever possible. Then I apologized for the way I spoke to my father and my impatience with him.

In this week’s Parsha, Ki Tisa, we read about Moshe and a nation entering into the apology process. We read about T’shuvah. The parshah begins with God telling Moshe to conduct a census and each adult should make a donation. Meanwhile, B’nai Yisroel had been getting quite worried while Moshe was up the mountain for 40 days and nights. So they had Aaron build a Golden Calf. Well needless to say, B’nai Yisroel’s idolatry (avodah zarah) did not exactly go unnoticed. God says “Let my anger flare up against them and I shall annihilate them…” (Ex. 32:10). Moshe was just as angry. “Moshe’s anger flared up, He threw down the tablets from his hands, and shattered them at the foot of the mountain” (Ex. 32:19). Moshe chastised the people and then went back up the mountain to placate God’s anger. After everyone calmed down, punishments were meted out.  As God and Moshe began the re-issuing of the two tablets. Moshe pleads for forgiveness on behalf of the people and then descends with the second set of tablets.

 God and Moshe grew closer. God had a new found respect for Moshe and his people, and Moshe had a new found closeness with God. So much so, that Moshe uttered the words “Hodi’eini nah et D’rachecha V’Eda’acha -Make your way known to me so that I may know You…Show me Your Glory” (Ex. 33:13:14). God re-issues his covenant with Moshe, and reveals himself to Moshe. What an incredibly powerful moment! Moshe sought forgiveness, and learned how to do so in a thoughtful and honest manner. Certainly, there was punishment. Certainly, there was fear. Yet the process lent itself to a closer, more loving, respectful, meaningful and deeper relationship. Rashi clarifies Moshe’s request. “Moshe said that he had failed to understand sufficiently what God had told him and he wanted God to accompany him and Israel not God’s angel”. Moshe wanted to understand God’s way of bestowing reward. Reward was a function of spiritual proximity. Moshe’s apology was expressed in the form of a request. How do I attain greater spiritual proximity? “How do I find favour in your eyes” (Ex. 33:12)?   This closer, more awesome relationship is a product of doing T’shuvah, repentance. As a nation we had never sought repentance. As a nation, we did not even know what repentance was. As a nation, as children, we were just told to behave.  We had not tested the ramifications for not obeying. Now, B’nai Israel had made a grievous mistake. This mistake emanates from a maturing group.  However part of the spiritual maturation process, like any growth process is falling down, making mistakes, and then knowing enough to seek repentance, to do T’shuvah. Moshe did this on behalf of B’nai Yisroel. Moshe wanted to apologize not only to protect the people but also to gain a deeper comprehension in order to become spiritually closer.

            Perhaps there is no experience more humbling than asking for forgiveness.  To truly seek forgiveness, one must put aside one’s own ego, as well as one’s feeling of shame and embarrassment.  If our egos are too large, if we are too ashamed and too embarrassed then we will prevent ourselves from humbly seeking forgiveness and we remain distant As children, adults, and as a people, we all need a way to apologize in a meaningful, honest and thoughtful manner. We all need a safe haven to issue such an apology. Then when punishment is meted out, we understand that it is a result of behavior and not for being. No matter how long we remain negligent in our behavior and observance there is a way back towards God and Torah. However the impetus is upon us. We must take the first steps. We must go through some introspection, some tough honesty, and some self-reflection because that formula demands it. Otherwise the words are rather empty. Only then can we achieve meaningful repentance and stand in close proximity to God. Only then can we achieve a sense of self-contentment, inner peace and spiritual radiance. “When Moshe descended from Mount Sinai… Moshe did not know that the skin of his face had become radiant” (Ex. 34:29).

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Lipson

Steal Your Face Right Off Your Head (Robert Hunter & Jerry Garcia- "He's Gone"

          My wife and I are very different. She gets very emotional about every milestone our children reach. Normally with the arrival at a milestone, my wife will think that our child in question has grown older which of course means that she has grown older. I don’t necessarily see our children’s’ milestones as a reflection of my aging. I’m older and I feel that way. No, I can’t believe that we at the milestone, I can’t believe that the child in question is really old enough to achieve this milestone, and I wonder if reaching the milestone will give them a sense of maturity and becoming a person. Three of our four children reached milestones this week. Our 12^th grader had to make a decision about college/university. So she will spend a year in Israel and with the intention of going university in the U.S. Our 10^th grader just turned 16 and she will be taking her G1 test (permit test in America) before the end of the May. Since we had already sent a daughter to college and we have had two daughters turn 16; I wasn’t too emotional about either milestone. However, I was happy for both daughters who reached their respective milestone. However, it was the milestone of our son, our youngest child, which I found most meaningful. Since the second night of Pesach, as is the custom associated with Sefirat Ha’Omer (The Counting of the Omer); I haven’t shaved until this week which was the 33 day of the Omer (L’AG B’Omer). So I prepared to shave. However for 13 years 8 months and 23 days, our son has never shaved. So on L’AG B’Omer, he and I bonded in a way that he could never bond with his mother. I gave him his first shaving lesson. He shaved his upper lip. I shaved my face.

This Shabbat we read from Parsha Emor. In the four chapters that comprise Emor, the first deals with the Kohanim and their very different way of striving for holiness as compared to the rest of the nation. For example, because of the Kohen’s function within society, he must remain in a perpetual state of purity. He is restricted in terms of who he can marry. He is restricted in terms of for whom he mourns. He cannot go to a cemetery. He cannot make sacrificial offerings if he has physical abnormalities. The second chapter reminds B’nai Yisroel that all animal offerings must be blemish free. These offerings must come directly from the individual making them and not from “the hand of a stranger” (Lev.22:25). Both chapters deal with the holiness of certain people, the Kohen and his family, and certain animals, those designated for sacrificial offering. The third chapter of the Parsha deals with the designation of holiness in regards to seasons and the calendar including Shabbat, Pesach, Shavuot, Sukkot, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The fourth chapter offers a narrative in which the son of an Israelite woman and Egyptian man, and another Israelite man get into a fight. The son pronounced the forbidden name of God and was charged with blasphemy. The Torah tells us the punishment for blasphemy is death. This is the same punishment for an individual who commits murder. 

As the Torah upon Holiness and perhaps even Perfection, we learn that striving for Holiness and striving for Perfection requires creating a distinct separation from the mundane, the ordinary, and the less than perfect. The Torah reminds the Kohen, “Lo Yikrechu Korcha B’Rosham U’Fa’at Z’Kanam Lo Y’Galeichu UVivsaram Lo Yisr’tu Saratet- They shall not make a bald spot on their heads, and they shall not shave an edge of their beard; and in their flesh, they shall not cut a gash (Lev21:5). Rashi, the great 11th-century French commentator, explains that certain tribes that lived in Biblical Canaan, as well as Ancient Egyptians, would engage in these types of behaviors while mourning the death of a loved one. Literally, the Torah reminds the Priestly class to be sure and NOT behave like other people, don’t mourn like other people, don’t worship like other people, don’t behave like these ancient tribes of idolaters. The Chatam Sofer, one of the great 19^th century Central European Rabbis, explained that the verse has a homiletical meaning as well. The Torah reminds us not to create a bald spot upon our head, we don’t create an emptiness on our head. The Chatam Sofer understands the emptiness as ignorance, a lack of learning. The head should be filled with Torah, with mitzvoth, with doing good things in the world, and making sound, thoughtful, and intelligent choices. Sometimes that requires the person to be just a bit separate, distinct and apart from those who create an emptiness in their own respective heads. We strive to fill our heads knowledge, with Torah. We avoid creating “empty spaces”, bald spot, in our heads, knowing that what our heads are filled with or not, will be expressed in our behavior, our attitudes our relationship with our loved ones and with God.

So there we stood in front of the mirror. As I looked into the mirror, for a brief moment through the steam of the hot water, and as the mirror began to fog over I saw my father standing with me all those years ago showing me to shave. I saw my grandfather telling me to grow a mustache like he has in order to avoid shaving. My son wiped the mirror clear in order to see and the images of my father much younger than I am now and the images of my grandfather healthy, vibrant, smiling at me was wiped away. As my son and I stood there, I thought about what I had learned from these two men and wondered I would transmit all that I learned from them to my son. One thing is for sure, I won’t wait until our son has to shave his upper lip for the next time to offer them the wisdom of his grandfather and great-grandfather.

Peace,

              Rav Yitz